EQMM 1980-02 by Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine

Author:Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine [Magazine, Ellery Queen’s Mystery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The Adventure of the Patient Resident

by Robert L. Fish

© 1979 by Robert L. Fish.

A new Schlock Homes story by Robert L. Fish

The “vorld’s vurst conzulting detectiff” detects again, and if it is possible to conceive, the one and only Schlock Homes outdoes himself. Above the top of his form, the Great Schlock blazes with deductions and theories, and comes to some of the most startling conclusions of his “conzulting” career…

It was when interesting cases were either rare or non-existent that my friend Mr. Schlock Homes found life most difficult to bear, nor was he loath to pass on his feelings of frustration to me. It made for uncomfortable moments for me, but at the same time the hiatus in work allowed me the necessary time to bring some order to my voluminous notes regarding the many cases I was privileged to share with the man a German acquaintance of ours called, in his delightful accent, the “vorld’s vurst conzulting detectiff.”

I recall in particular one warm sunny afternoon in June in the year ’77, with the shadows just beginning to creep across the ceiling of our quarters at 221B Bagel Street. Homes and I had recently returned home from a visit to France. There, in the chief city of the departement of the Rhone, my friend had successfully tracked down a miscreant using the sewers of the city to give the place a bad odor. I was in the process of putting my notes together under the tentative title of The Adventure of the Lyons’ Main, while Homes, bored almost to distraction by not having a problem to occupy him, was slouched in the basket chair with his violin, playing what even to my untutored ear sounded like An Err on the G-String. I had just decided that some liquid refreshment might aid in my literary efforts, when there came a diffident knock on the door and a moment later our page had entered with the late afternoon post.

Homes quickly put aside his instrument, eagerly taking the packet from the boy and tearing the letters open in order, anxiously seeking some missive that might indicate a problem to test his enormous energies and massive brain. With a sigh I brought my attention from the sideboard to watch, wondering what new adventure for us might be concealed in the formidable pile of correspondence; but as Homes tossed aside piece after piece once he had perused it, and as the smiling look of anticipation on his lean face slowly turned to one of growing disappointment, I shook my head and returned to contemplating the sideboard. Suddenly there was a muffled exclamation from my friend and I looked over at him once again to see Homes gripping an envelope in his hand and staring at it with concentration.

“Homes!” I cried. “What is it?”

“Later, Watney,” he said impatiently, and reached behind him for one of his reference books. He brought it down, found the page he sought, and ran his finger down a column; but

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