Read Online Andrea Frazer - Holmes and Garden 01 - The Curious Case of the Black Swan Song by Andrea Frazer - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrea Frazer
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we?’
Both of them had availed themselves of the notebooks that Holmes had fortunately brought with him, so now each had a note of, not only their own, but each other’s conversations during the evening, and now applied themselves to a good two fingers of fine malt.
As the inches evaporated into their willing throats, the talk turned to the circumstances of what had led them to their present situation. More malt followed, and the talk became a little rambling in places, a little too vehement in others, as is the effect of such an intake of whisky. The air above them had turned a hazy blue with the smoke they had both added to the atmosphere, and Holmes opened a window when both of them began to cough. It was only a small room, and could not cope with a pipe and someone who chain-smoked when he drank more than usual.
When they had each consumed about six fingers and Holmes was surveying the depleted level of amber liquid in the bottle with a rather blood-shot eye, they decided to call it a night. Plans had been set for the next day during this conversational jumble sale of personal information.
They would hang around the hotel in the morning in the hope of speaking to a few more people and do a bit of undercover eavesdropping. After lunch, they would slip off to view the office in the town then, to really get the ball rolling, they would call at John H.’s home and expose all to his mother. This would entail collecting his things and taking them to Holmes’ apartment.
After that, they would need to get back to the hotel, as murders didn’t investigate themselves, and that should just about fill the whole day. For now, though, the target was getting Garden back to his room safely, and getting a few hours’ sleep to dissipate the effects of the large intake of alcohol, to which neither were accustomed.
‘I’ll see you back through the maze,’ offered Holmes, with one eye shut to aid his focus.
‘Thanks very much – very decent of you,’ accepted Garden, similarly focussing with only one eye. If he opened both there were two Holmeses, and he didn’t know which was the real one.
‘Here, take my arm, and we’ll walk together,’ suggested Holmes, as a good wheeze for keeping both of them upright. Alone, they would probably stagger like drunken seamen.
They set off, turning left at Holmes’ behest, wandering back and forth across the corridor, both of them frequently putting a finger to their lips and making loud shushing noises to keep the other from, probably, breaking into song. Finally Holmes drew to an unsteady halt, almost causing Garden to pitch forward on to his face, and pointed dramatically at the door in front of them.
‘’S room twen’y-seven. ’S your room,’ declared Holmes with a flourish, waving an arm at the metal number on the door.
‘’S righ’. ’S my room. Con … congra … well done, ol’ man,’ replied Garden, a tear of gratitude forming at the corner of one eye. ‘Couldn’ have done i’ withou’ you.’
‘Nonsense. Stout fellow. Could do anything. Goo’ nigh’.’
‘See you inna mornin’.’
Holmes turned and left Garden rifling through his pockets for the door key, happy that today had seen the formation of a momentous partnership. Garden just hoped he could find his key, and wouldn’t have to crawl back downstairs in search of Reception for a replacement.
For Holmes, it was another story. The amount of whisky they had imbibed had robbed him of his sense of direction, and he tottered from corridor to corridor, staggering from side to side and all but pinging off one wall to bounce off the other.
Never before had he become this lost inside a building, and he managed to visit many fascinating places on this unplanned sojourn. He found the boot cupboard where Sinatra was still in residence, and remembered not to attempt to pet him. He found the small room in which the committee of the Ladies’ Guild must have had their meeting. He found an unused
Both of them had availed themselves of the notebooks that Holmes had fortunately brought with him, so now each had a note of, not only their own, but each other’s conversations during the evening, and now applied themselves to a good two fingers of fine malt.
As the inches evaporated into their willing throats, the talk turned to the circumstances of what had led them to their present situation. More malt followed, and the talk became a little rambling in places, a little too vehement in others, as is the effect of such an intake of whisky. The air above them had turned a hazy blue with the smoke they had both added to the atmosphere, and Holmes opened a window when both of them began to cough. It was only a small room, and could not cope with a pipe and someone who chain-smoked when he drank more than usual.
When they had each consumed about six fingers and Holmes was surveying the depleted level of amber liquid in the bottle with a rather blood-shot eye, they decided to call it a night. Plans had been set for the next day during this conversational jumble sale of personal information.
They would hang around the hotel in the morning in the hope of speaking to a few more people and do a bit of undercover eavesdropping. After lunch, they would slip off to view the office in the town then, to really get the ball rolling, they would call at John H.’s home and expose all to his mother. This would entail collecting his things and taking them to Holmes’ apartment.
After that, they would need to get back to the hotel, as murders didn’t investigate themselves, and that should just about fill the whole day. For now, though, the target was getting Garden back to his room safely, and getting a few hours’ sleep to dissipate the effects of the large intake of alcohol, to which neither were accustomed.
‘I’ll see you back through the maze,’ offered Holmes, with one eye shut to aid his focus.
‘Thanks very much – very decent of you,’ accepted Garden, similarly focussing with only one eye. If he opened both there were two Holmeses, and he didn’t know which was the real one.
‘Here, take my arm, and we’ll walk together,’ suggested Holmes, as a good wheeze for keeping both of them upright. Alone, they would probably stagger like drunken seamen.
They set off, turning left at Holmes’ behest, wandering back and forth across the corridor, both of them frequently putting a finger to their lips and making loud shushing noises to keep the other from, probably, breaking into song. Finally Holmes drew to an unsteady halt, almost causing Garden to pitch forward on to his face, and pointed dramatically at the door in front of them.
‘’S room twen’y-seven. ’S your room,’ declared Holmes with a flourish, waving an arm at the metal number on the door.
‘’S righ’. ’S my room. Con … congra … well done, ol’ man,’ replied Garden, a tear of gratitude forming at the corner of one eye. ‘Couldn’ have done i’ withou’ you.’
‘Nonsense. Stout fellow. Could do anything. Goo’ nigh’.’
‘See you inna mornin’.’
Holmes turned and left Garden rifling through his pockets for the door key, happy that today had seen the formation of a momentous partnership. Garden just hoped he could find his key, and wouldn’t have to crawl back downstairs in search of Reception for a replacement.
For Holmes, it was another story. The amount of whisky they had imbibed had robbed him of his sense of direction, and he tottered from corridor to corridor, staggering from side to side and all but pinging off one wall to bounce off the other.
Never before had he become this lost inside a building, and he managed to visit many fascinating places on this unplanned sojourn. He found the boot cupboard where Sinatra was still in residence, and remembered not to attempt to pet him. He found the small room in which the committee of the Ladies’ Guild must have had their meeting. He found an unused
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