Read Online Femme Fatale by Carole Nelson Douglas - Free Book Online

watched me, waiting for the next grape, or even a head pat. Casanova settled down on his perch and edged to my side, cocking his head and watching me as vigilantly as Messy.
    Lucifer was nowhere in sight, a cause for worry in the wise.
    “Well,” I said. Their heads lifted at the sound of my voice, a not unpleasant reaction. “There is more to this reversal of course regarding America than anyone is telling me. I imagine that is what married people do: make mysterious decisions behind closed doors. I do think that Godfrey, or even perhaps Irene and Godfrey together, also have concluded that an ocean voyage would do me good after the unhappy events of the past spring. Their maneuvering is pathetically transparent. They wish to remove me from my more recent unhappy memories. Will you get on without me for a few weeks, my little friends?”
    They did not answer, of course, but their eyes were bright upon me, and I realized that I would miss them, whether they would miss me or not.
    At that instant I felt other eyes upon me. I turned to find Irene poised on the stoop, watching me and my menagerie. I couldn’t be sure of how much of my monologue to the animal congregation she had overheard.
    While I flushed with guilt, trying to recall what I had blathered about, she found her voice.
    “I have decided I must go. Godfrey says you have agreed to accompany me.”
    “Well, yes, certainly. If you must go. Must you?”
    “I don’t wish to, but I fear I would regret it if I didn’t. I am not about to leave my history to explication by the likes of a stunt reporter like Nellie Bly. Consider this a mission of self-defense, Nell.”
    “I consider that acting in one’s self-defense when it comes to Pink’s actions is not only necessary, but wise.”
    “Then we both have reasons to go to America and stop her before she does us harm.”
    “My cause may be lost,” I said, “but I think yours may still be saved.”
    She came over to me and twined her arm in mine. “Nothing is lost unless we allow it to be.”
    “Cut the cackle!” Casanova screeched, edging down his perch to bawl the order almost into our very ears.
    Irene grinned at the parrot. “Good advice. It’s time to act. A pity we cannot import the parrot to America. He would give our forthcoming voyage a piratical flavor. I have always fancied wearing an eyepatch.”
    “An eyepatch, no! The small cigars and cigarettes are enough!”
    “This we can debate on shipboard,” Irene said, turning and escorting me back into the house. “A week at sea should do very nicely to settle the matter.”

4.
    Calling Cards

    “Let me see,” said Holmes, “hum! Born in New Jersey in
the year of 1858. Contralto—hum! La Scala! Prima
Donna Imperial Opera of Warsaw—Yes! Retired from
the operatic stage—ha!”
    —SHERLOCK HOLMES, “A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA,” 1891,
THE STRAND
    F ROM THE DIARIES OF J OHN H. W ATSON , M.D.
    “There are gentlemen waiting,” Mrs. Hudson informed me when she admitted me to the Baker Street foyer.
    “Holmes expected to be back from his Continental wanderings by now.”
    “He did, and he is, Doctor, but he is not back from an errand about town. If you like, you may wait in my parlor.”
    “No, I doubt that’s necessary. Whatever their business, I can hold the fort, as they say in America.”
    I started up the stairs, certain that Holmes would not mind my entertaining his clients until he arrived.
    “Oh, Dr. Watson!”
    I paused and looked back. “Yes, Mrs. Hudson?”
    “One of them is . . . rather colorful.”
    Thus forewarned, and mildly intrigued, I made my way to the door at the top and knocked, not wanting to take Holmes’s guests by surprise, though these rooms had been my home as well.
    A tall, strapping man with a full red beard meticulously trimmed opened what had once been my own door.
    A redhead. Was that what Mrs. Hudson had meant by colorful?
    “I am Dr. Watson, an associate of Mr. Holmes’s. Since I too expected to visit