Steam, Smoke & Mirrors-- from the secret journals of Professor Artemus More PhD (Cantab) FRS by Colin Edmonds

Author:Colin Edmonds
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Steampunk fiction
Publisher: Caffeine Nights Publishing
Published: 2017-01-12T00:00:00+00:00

~15~

“Arrested?” said Michael and Phoebe together.

This was now the second time in fifteen hours they had been paraded before Superintendent William Melville of the Special Branch, only on this occasion they were not standing in his makeshift office in Buckingham Palace . No, this time it was his real office. In Scotland Yard. And a very disappointing affair it was too; a wood panelled cell of a room. You know the kind. Dark, oppressive and smelling of polish, and enlivened only by colourful, detailed maps of Metropolitan police districts and major British ports. Melville sat behind his desk. In front of him lay three open dossiers, one for each of the Connie Dill murders, each containing scenes of crime diagrams and photographs of the victims, presumably filched from their homes. The files had been compiled with impressive speed.

“Indeed,” said Melville, quietly. “Arrested.”

“On what charge?” demanded Phoebe, with about as much indignation as, well, you might imagine, perhaps even more. Melville, of course, wore his mask of calm, unflappable control.

“On suspicion of murdering or being complicit in the death of Fek Yu Tu, thankfully also known as Sidney Picket, the death of Lez Warzo and the death of Annie Saunders.”

“This is an outrage!” fumed Phoebe.

“It so often is…” sighed Melville, patiently.

“Okay. Here’s what happened,” said Michael. “Yes, we went to the Olympic to see Sid, and then to Lez’s house and to Annie’s, to tell them about Connie because they deserved to hear it from me. With Sid and Lez we were too late, and with Annie we were that close to saving her. Mister M, these were my friends. Why would I kill them? And if I wanted to, do you think Pheebs would let me? She puts up with a whole heap of stuff, but even she draws the line at my being a murder.”

Melville was calm and easy as ever. “I do not think you were in any way involved in the murder of those poor unfortunates.”

“You don’t?” Michael affected that frankly baffled, frown look he always used when he was, well frankly, baffled.

“In which case,” chipped in Phoebe, “this might be an odd question, no, under the circumstances I don’t think it is odd! Why are we here?”

“I rely on my experience, knowledge, but also like Mister Magister, I trust my instinct, and to believe that you were responsible for the murders is ludicrous. However, the same opinion is not shared by certain other officers within my department.”

“Skindrick,” hissed Detective Inspector Pym.

“Detective Inspector Skindrick, is an unbending pragmatist, an officer with little time for the fanciful. The concept of the grey area is entirely unknown to him. All matters are either black or they are white. So, let us now examine the facts in stark black and white as he would view them. Currently with no other suspect in clear purview, and with witnesses describing you and your vehicle at all three murder scenes, what other conclusion might he draw? And I could not defend you.”

“Put like that…” was the best Michael could offer.

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