Read Online The Adventure of the Skittering Shadow: Sherlock Holmes in Space by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sam Gamble - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sam Gamble
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been some time since your sister died, and the crime scene is gone.”
“No one has set foot in either bedroom since that morning,” Helen Stoner swiftly interjected. “I’ve been staying at capsule hotels around the city since my sister died so everything in the apartment is exactly as the police left it, if a trifle dustier. And I have copies of my sister’s medical records from both before and after her death. If any of that will help?”
“Immensely,” murmured Holmes, leaning back in his chair. He crossed his legs at the knee. “You say that you and your sister had never parted. Tell me about your lives.”
“Julia and I were born on an asteroid,” began Miss Stoner, her gloved fingers worrying at a loose thread in her skirt. “At the time, our parents were part of a team that was setting up an automated mining station. Our father died soon after we were born, and I have no memory of him. When we were two, our mother remarried to a medical doctor named Dr. Grimesby Roylott, who also adopted us. From what I remember, he was a good doctor and he had a passion for robotics, but he was also an awful, brutal man with a vicious temper. He was the terror of every mining camp, rig, and moon colony that we ever lived in. Our mother often had to raise money to pay his legal bills, silence his victims, and cover his gambling debts. Eventually, we got lucky, and, in a fit of rage, he beat a man to death.”
I grimaced, inadvertently interrupting the flow of our visitor’s narrative as she noticed my response and, responding to me directly, said, “I know how calloused that sounds but at ten I was a selfish little thing.” She made a wry little face. “I didn’t consider the dead man or his family until I saw them in court.
“Our stepfather received a life sentence for his crime, and that was the last that Julia or I ever saw of him. The night that our mother said that our stepfather would not come home again for several years, I felt the most profound sense of relief that I have ever known, before or since. He did, however, leave his mark. Most notably, Julia and I never slept without locking our bedroom doors.”
“Never?” demanded Sherlock Holmes.
“Never,” said Miss Stoner firmly, her fingers very briefly stilling. “We would not have felt safe otherwise. Even the night that my sister died, we locked our bedroom doors before bed. I remember hearing her lock snick shut. When I went to fetch her for breakfast, I had to use her pass code to get into her room. I remember it, because it was unusual. She was usually up before then.”
When Holmes inclined his head, Miss Stoner resumed her tale, her fingers tapping against her thighs.
“We immigrated to Mars after earning our respective doctorates, mine in astrophysics and astrogeology and Julia’s in robotics and biochemistry. I found work as an astrogeologist for an asteroid mining company, while Julia went into government research. Sometimes, she brought home bits of code to work on, but I never saw her projects. We rented apartments around Nerio until we had enough saved for a down payment on an apartment of our own. Our apartment is about a hundred and fifty square feet and has one entrance. It also has a window in each bedroom. The windows were locked the night that Julia died.”
“What happened to the apartment’s ownership after your sister died?”
“We bought the flat as joint tenants, and at her death I automatically inherited her undivided share. She died without a will so everything else will go to Dr. Roylott.” Miss Stoner scowled. “He’s only interested in her money. The doctor has already sent a routing number for a bank back on Earth.”
“What about your mother?”
Miss Stoner shook her head. “Our mother died in an accident last year.”
“Then to summarize: Your sister, who led a relatively quiet life and had no enemies, died alone, in a locked room, and without
“No one has set foot in either bedroom since that morning,” Helen Stoner swiftly interjected. “I’ve been staying at capsule hotels around the city since my sister died so everything in the apartment is exactly as the police left it, if a trifle dustier. And I have copies of my sister’s medical records from both before and after her death. If any of that will help?”
“Immensely,” murmured Holmes, leaning back in his chair. He crossed his legs at the knee. “You say that you and your sister had never parted. Tell me about your lives.”
“Julia and I were born on an asteroid,” began Miss Stoner, her gloved fingers worrying at a loose thread in her skirt. “At the time, our parents were part of a team that was setting up an automated mining station. Our father died soon after we were born, and I have no memory of him. When we were two, our mother remarried to a medical doctor named Dr. Grimesby Roylott, who also adopted us. From what I remember, he was a good doctor and he had a passion for robotics, but he was also an awful, brutal man with a vicious temper. He was the terror of every mining camp, rig, and moon colony that we ever lived in. Our mother often had to raise money to pay his legal bills, silence his victims, and cover his gambling debts. Eventually, we got lucky, and, in a fit of rage, he beat a man to death.”
I grimaced, inadvertently interrupting the flow of our visitor’s narrative as she noticed my response and, responding to me directly, said, “I know how calloused that sounds but at ten I was a selfish little thing.” She made a wry little face. “I didn’t consider the dead man or his family until I saw them in court.
“Our stepfather received a life sentence for his crime, and that was the last that Julia or I ever saw of him. The night that our mother said that our stepfather would not come home again for several years, I felt the most profound sense of relief that I have ever known, before or since. He did, however, leave his mark. Most notably, Julia and I never slept without locking our bedroom doors.”
“Never?” demanded Sherlock Holmes.
“Never,” said Miss Stoner firmly, her fingers very briefly stilling. “We would not have felt safe otherwise. Even the night that my sister died, we locked our bedroom doors before bed. I remember hearing her lock snick shut. When I went to fetch her for breakfast, I had to use her pass code to get into her room. I remember it, because it was unusual. She was usually up before then.”
When Holmes inclined his head, Miss Stoner resumed her tale, her fingers tapping against her thighs.
“We immigrated to Mars after earning our respective doctorates, mine in astrophysics and astrogeology and Julia’s in robotics and biochemistry. I found work as an astrogeologist for an asteroid mining company, while Julia went into government research. Sometimes, she brought home bits of code to work on, but I never saw her projects. We rented apartments around Nerio until we had enough saved for a down payment on an apartment of our own. Our apartment is about a hundred and fifty square feet and has one entrance. It also has a window in each bedroom. The windows were locked the night that Julia died.”
“What happened to the apartment’s ownership after your sister died?”
“We bought the flat as joint tenants, and at her death I automatically inherited her undivided share. She died without a will so everything else will go to Dr. Roylott.” Miss Stoner scowled. “He’s only interested in her money. The doctor has already sent a routing number for a bank back on Earth.”
“What about your mother?”
Miss Stoner shook her head. “Our mother died in an accident last year.”
“Then to summarize: Your sister, who led a relatively quiet life and had no enemies, died alone, in a locked room, and without
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