Irregular Lives by Kim Krisco

Author:Kim Krisco
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sherlock Holmes, mystery, crime, british crime, sherlock holmes fiction, sherlock holmes novels
ISBN: 9781787050334
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2016
Published: 2016-12-07T00:00:00+00:00

As the carriage departed, Watson shared what he had learned: “Rottenberg calls himself a hematologist. He’s published several papers on the typing of blood. Are you familiar with the practice, Holmes?”

“Yes. An Austrian - Landsteiner - is attempting to classify blood into several types. Certainly, such a process would prove useful in criminal investigations.”

“Indeed, the theory is that there are three or four types,” Watson added. “In addition to blood-typing, Rottenberg published an article in The Lancet with a rather novel and fantastic theory that new blood can revitalize degenerating organs in the human body.”

“Fantastic, possibly, but the idea is far from novel. In the late sixteenth century, Pope Innocent VIII was said to have been given the world’s first blood transfusion to keep him from aging.”

“A legend, surely, Holmes!”

“One would hope so, for it was said that Innocent drank the blood of ten-year old boys.”

Watson’s body stiffened in fear.

“Yes, Watson.”

Holmes’s eyes shot to Archie, who seemed lost in thought.

As Tux was an itinerant, finding him was no simple task. However, the three seekers were not surprised when the costermongers, and the Covent Garden flower women, pointed them to a public house set in the center of Whitechapel Road. Sitting as it does, at the great east-to-west artery of the city, this ancient establishment served as a hub of dubious commerce.

As Archie, Holmes and Watson approached, they observed a mixture of good and evil countenances lined up along the benches outside. Leaning against one corner of the public house stood a gentleman sporting a brilliant red scarf and a slouch hat. A steel hook protruded where his left hand should have been.

“’Ooky, we’re lookin’ for’ Tux,” said Archie. “’Ave you seen ’im?”

The man twisted himself around. “Yes, Archie - round the back. Is Benjie at ’ome?”

“No, Alf. That’s why we need the old geezer.”

They stepped around to the rear of the inn. There sat Tux hunched over a mug of ale - foam dripping from the ginger-gray whiskers that wrapped around his jaw. His once white jacket was smudged, torn, and buttoned high upon his chest, as it was too small to enclose his great pear-shaped belly. When he saw Archie, he lowered his head and made himself small.

“Tux, these are my friends, Mr. ’Olmes and Dr. Watson. We need to talk to you about Benjie.”

Tux shook his head, and pushed away the mug. “Poor Benjie. I can tell you, guv’ner, this ’ole business ’as knocked me off my perch.”

Holmes and Watson took seats adjacent to the musty man. Archie stood behind them. “Tell us what you know about the house where you left Benjie.”

Tux’s head lifted, and his brows knit together. “It wasn’t me as left him, guv’ner. ’Twas Benjie’s choice. Gotta respect a man’s choices, Doctor.”

“Benjie is a boy,” Holmes said. “Nonetheless, what can you tell me about what you found at the house on Aubrey Walk?”

Tux settled back in his chair. “Not what you might call fancy goods - but first-rate glass, fine cork from an old ice box one time, an’ clo’es like new - soiled is all.

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