My Daily Nature Walk

About three months ago, I had a full knee replacement (including a repair to my knee cap). After the first month, as part of my physical therapy, I was to walk 30 minutes a day. In Texas, that means early morning before it gets too hot (we've had some 90+ days, but we'll hit 100 some time within the next month, I would guess). Our house overlooks a green area with a manmade pond and a sidewalk that goes around it, including a low bridge. For at least a year, I hadn't been able to walk around the area because my knee would hurt too much. Now, I get a chance to enjoy its beauty every day (unless it's raining, then I ride my recumbent bike). I thought I'd share some of what I encounter on my walks.

I've seen ducklings with their mama, a baby rabbit with his, a turtle (I checked, not a tortoise), and a heron. There are also geese (they'll hiss at you if you get too near) and squirrels (they plant acorns in our front yard). And plenty of bluejays, robins, and other birds. I'm never fast enough to get a photo of them. Because I'm never sure what I'll see, my daily walks are always interesting.

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The Magnate’s Mysterious Disappearance

More than a year after I married my dear Mary Morstan, I arrived from my surgery at the end of a cool October day to be taken aback by Mary adjusting her hat over her blonde curls in the mirror by the front door.

“Do we have an engagement I’ve forgotten about?” I asked.

An uneasy feeling roiled in my stomach. What social commitment had I forgotten? I immediately sought a plausible excuse to beg off and let Mary make my regrets. After a long day with patients, I’d anticipated a peaceful dinner and reading by the fire with my wife. Just the thought of an evening of whist with the neighbors brought on a slight bout of indigestion.

“No. This is a new request.” Possible excuses were still rolling through my thoughts, but before I could express any, she gave me a knowing smile. “From your friend Holmes.”

That was a completely different situation. The excitement of his summons surpassed even the most high-stakes game of whist.

“And,” she said, handing me a telegram, “he’s requested that I join you two as well.”

This was truly an uncommon summons. The “Come at once” order was familiar, but the addition of “Bring Mary” was unexpected.

She took my arm and guided me to the front door. “I can’t wait to find out what this is all about. We mustn’t keep your friend waiting. As he is wont to say, ‘The game is afoot!’”

By the time we arrived at 221B, the sun had set, and a damp fog enveloped the street. Mary gave a little cough as I assisted her from the carriage. The wheeze disturbed me because it persisted no matter what I prescribed. Perhaps I should have insisted on coming alone? The night air most likely was aggravating whatever currently ailed her. But Holmes requested her presence, so how could I deny this rare opportunity for her?

Upon entering, the room appeared just as I had left it. The armchairs by the chimney were as comfortable and inviting as ever, the fire crackling in the grate gave off a warm, cozy feeling, and a slight acrid scent drifted from his chemistry equipment in the corner. The one new addition was a young woman already seated in the basket chair Holmes reserved for visitors. Her posture was erect; her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun; and her dress, utilitarian in cut and muted colors. Whoever this client was—for who else sat in the basket chair but a client?—they were special because Holmes had Mrs. Hudson set out her blue periwinkle tea set and scones on the table. Clients rarely received such an elaborate fare.

“Dr. and Mrs. Watson, so good of you to come,” he said, rising from his seat by the fire. “Allow me to introduce you to Miss Hannah Brown of the Brinkman Agency of New York.”

“Brinkman?” I asked. “I’ve heard of Pinkerton, but—”

“We consider ourselves more discreet than Pinkerton,” she said in a very strong American accent.

After exchanging the customary greetings, Holmes waved his hand to direct everyone to a chair and returned to his own seat. “Miss Brown contacted me upon her arrival today, but I waited until you both were here for her to share her case with us.”

I couldn’t help but let my gaze stray to the tea service behind the American detective. Having left the house the moment I arrived home, I’d not had a chance for any repast after my day at my surgery. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Holmes’ scowl, but he waved toward the table. “Oh, go ahead, Watson, help yourself while she begins.”

Hunger conquered both my annoyance at his remark and my embarrassment, and I helped myself to both a cup of tea and one of Mrs. Hudson’s scones while the American launched into her explanation of her visit.

“A Miss Claire Vincent hired the Brinkman agency to investigate the death of her father, George Vincent.”

I swallowed a gulp of scalding tea and nearly dropped the cup and scone in the coughing fit that followed. Mary rushed to my side, taking both from me while Holmes ignored me and encouraged her to continue.

Before she could, I choked out, “The George Vincent, the shipping tycoon?”

Even in England, far from the former colonies, the papers reported on the owner’s disappearance and presumed death, despite the absence of a body. 

“Without verifying his death, his organization is in disarray. A recent audit of company records also shows several million dollars are missing,” said Miss Brown.

“Embezzlement?” I asked.

“A possibility. Complications increased because he and his long-time private secretary, James Simmons, departed the country together. Vincent, however, never arrived. The authorities suspect Simmons murdered Vincent and fled with the funds. We know Simmons arrived in England, but I need your help, Mr. Holmes, to find him. I’m afraid I’m out of my element here. I could follow the man without attracting suspicions in America, but here, I’m afraid, I will—as we say—stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Which is why I asked Mary to join us,” Holmes said, nodding to her over his steepled fingers. “You will be the most perfect assistant to Miss Brown, helping her to move about the city without attracting notice as a foreigner. In addition, you are already familiar with my methods, for I’m certain Watson has shared more than he shares with the public in his little accounts.”

“I have, but she has also observed them in her own case,” I said.

His brow creased at the mention of The Sign of the Four case. “Not the ending I had planned, I’m afraid.”

“It was not completely unfortunate,” she said, sliding her gaze toward mine. “I found its conclusion quite satisfactory.”

“Then you agree to help me?” Miss Brown asked, unable to hide the relief in her voice. “When shall we start?”

To Be Continued.....

Until July!

Best,

Liese

The links again:

Star-Spangled Murder, here.

Death of a Hero, here.

Mystery and Suspense Giveaway, here

Murder Mystery Giveaway, here

Sherlock Holmes and the Great Lady Detectives, here