The deceased was profoundly deformed, bent almost double even in death and possessing great and unnatural quantities of hair, as of those sported by certain simian denizens of the animal kingdom. That there is something freakish and abnormal in the business surely lies beyond all reasonable doubt, and the discovery of this ill-fated “Monkey Man” has already excited all manner of speculation.
Detective Inspector Arnold Blakeley, who is investigating the mystery on behalf of Scotland Yard, professed to this correspondent that his investigation is in its earliest stages. He considers the likeliest suspects to be found in the worlds of the circus and the carnival. It is in these disreputable quarters, he says, that all his energies shall be expended and he is confident that a plausible solution shall in time emerge.
Sent: 30th January 1913
From: Mycroft Holmes
To: Panjandrum
Noted with interest thorough failure of your Presbury project. I expect to learn shortly of its total cessation.
Sent: 30th January 1913
From: Panjandrum
To: Mycroft Holmes
Expectation unfounded. New alternatives soon to be explored. Suggest you consider retirement at earliest possible opportunity.
Sent: 30th January 1913
From: Mycroft Holmes
To: Panjandrum
Retirement impossible while such men as you defame good name of Empire.
Sent: 30th January 1913
From: Panjandrum
To: Mycroft Holmes
Not defamation; rather necessary protection. Project ongoing. Will brook no opposition.
Sent: 30th January 1913
From: Mycroft Holmes
To: Panjandrum
Useful phrase, much used by younger brother: Game is afoot.
A FLASH IN THE PAN
William Meikle
Shinwell “Porky” Johnson is a former criminal who appears in “The Adventure of the Illustrious Client”, in which he protects Kitty from Baron Grüner’s henchmen and provides Holmes information on the best way to get into Grüner’s secure residence. He is muscle for hire, and when I was asked to write for this anthology, the image of him standing at the door of a music hall as Holmes and Watson ascended the steps came to me almost immediately – from there the story came to me all at once, and I had a lot of fun writing it.
They call me Porky Shinwell around town on account of me carrying a bit too much meat on my bones – at least most people do. But there is one gentleman that doesn’t – one that has always treated me as if I mattered, and I shall never forget that kindness. I was at the door, making sure no undesirables got inside, and it had been a while since I had seen him, so I almost didn’t recognise him in his tall hat and frock coat. I had only ever met him on the job before, but it was him right enough – Mr Sherlock Holmes himself, coming up the steps to the Gaiety Theatre for the evening show, with the doctor at his side.
“Mr Johnson,” he said. “It is good to see you in gainful employment for a change. And I note you have been following Watson’s advice. A bit more lime in the mixture though – you will see better colour in your gums.”
Holmes was the main reason I decided to go straight several years back. Having seen how he could just look at a man and see the history of his misdeeds writ large, I knew that I would never feel safe on a job after that – the old nerves would not take it. And here he was, at it again – how in blazes he could tell from where he was stood what manner of antiscorbutic I had been using for the scurvy I shall never know. But, damn him to hell, he was right. Mr Sherlock Holmes is always right, even when you think he is wrong.
I expected that to be the end of it, for we were in a public place and neither of us was overly keen to draw attention to any relationship between us, wishing to stay on opposite sides of the fence as it were. So Holmes surprised me when he leaned closer and, under the guise of passing me a tip, whispered in my ear.
“Keep an eye open, Shinwell. There are dark deeds afoot here tonight, and I might have need of you before the show is over.”
He said nothing more, and was off and away into the foyer before I even thought of a question. Besides, there was little enough I could do at that moment – I had to watch the door, let the gentry in and keep the rabble out until the show began. So it was that it was nearly twenty minutes later before I retired to the foyer and shut the house doors behind me. As Holmes had asked, I kept my eyes peeled, but for the life of me I could not see what had drawn him here; I did not have him pegged as a man to enjoy the musical frivolities of The Spring Chicken. I had seen no one pass me whom I would consider capable of what Holmes had called “dark deeds”, but both Holmes and I knew from our respective backgrounds that appearances could be most deceptive.
I did a tour of the foyer and saw nothing out of the ordinary, then went inside to stand at the back of the house. Up on stage Gertie Millar had them eating out of her hand as usual, but Holmes seemed to be the only one immune to her charms. I spotted him in a box near the stage on the right hand side, and he wasn’t watching Gertie at all – his complete attention was on a box directly opposite him.
I followed his gaze. There were two gentlemen in the box, and both had their opera glasses fixed firmly on Gertie. I didn’t recognise either of the men – out of my league if you catch my drift, all starched shirts and oiled hair – but if Holmes was watching them that closely, I decided I had better do the same. When Gertie’s big song came to an end, one of the toffs left his seat before the applause died down. I made sure my blackjack was snug in my hand and hurried round the stairs to that side of the house. I was just in time to see the toff reach the stage door. Sleepy Jack was manning that one – or so I thought – but the man opened it and went through without stopping. I saw why seconds later when I reached the door myself. Jack was sleepy all right, addled with what smelled like cheap gin, slumped against the wall. I suspect he’d been bribed, but I had no time to cogitate, for the toff was already walking away, past the wings and towards the dressing rooms at the rear. Given the ferocity of his gaze when he’d been eyeing Gertie just minutes before, I was starting to fear for the singer’s wellbeing.
I was almost running by the time I got to her dressing room. I burst in, blackjack in hand and immediately realised I had made a damn fool of myself – and not for the first time either. Our Gertie was a married woman. I knew her husband well, and the man she was wrapped around wasn’t him, but was indeed my mystery toff.
Luckily they were too involved in the kiss to even take note of me so I was able to back out without any fuss, only to almost bundle into Holmes and Dr Watson who were coming along from the other direction.
“Did you see him, man?” Holmes said.