The Case of the Exploding Speakeasy by David E. Fessenden

Author:David E. Fessenden [Fessenden, David E.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas
Published: 2016-04-21T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Captain Bill pulled out his pocket watch and said, “Well, gentlemen, the day is far spent, and I needs be gettin’ home. What say we continue this conversation over dinner? I’ll just have Maggie set three more places at the table.”

“We wouldn’t want to impose upon your wife with three last-minute dinner guests,” I said, suggesting a gracious way to get out of this invitation.

“Oh, nonsense, young man. We have unexpected company all the time. We’ll just add more water to the soup!” He paused, gave me a knowing look, and nudged me with his elbow. “And by the way, Maggie is my daughter.”

We walked several blocks to an aging Victorian brownstone that had certainly seen better days. I was surprised to notice a “For Sale” sign in the window of the first floor, but Captain Bill led us through a door and up a claustrophobic stairwell to the second-floor flat.

The door opened directly into a small but tidy parlor, with a comfortable seating arrangement. I was just reflecting to myself how the faded floral wallpaper seemed to be fighting for supremacy over the green-and-white striped sofa when the Captain called out, “Maggie, me darlin’! I’m home, and I’ve brought some gentlemen with me!”

Captain Bill’s announcement made me cringe as I thought of what an imposition this must be for a young girl who probably struggled to handle the responsibility of keeping house for her father. What must she be thinking right now? I wouldn’t have been surprised to be chased out onto the street with a broom by a frazzled teenager.

Instead, the kitchen door opened, and a petite, red-haired beauty appeared, a bright yellow apron tied about her waist. This was no teenager! She was obviously in her early twenties—in other words, I thought, feeling the heat creep up my neck, just about my age.

“Ah, Dad, how was your day, now?” Her voice had a delightful Irish lilt. “And when do I get to meet these gentlemen?” She fastened a pair of sea-green eyes on me. Captain Bill began introductions, and when he came to me, he paused.

“My child, there stands before you here the only son of one of my dearest friends. You’ve heard me talk of Dr. John Watson? Well, this fine specimen of manhood is his boy, Thomas.” I had a sudden urge to check the mirror to make sure my hair was combed, then glanced down to make sure my fingernails were clean.

“And this, young man, is my daughter, Maggie.”

“Father, please.” She turned to me and held out her hand with a friendly formality. “My name is Margaret. How do you do?”

Captain Bill put his cupped hand to my ear. “You can call her Maggie,” he whispered, but loud enough for her to overhear. I looked back at her just in time to catch her glaring at her father before she smiled again at me—and what a smile! It stunned me with its bright and earnest beauty. Who knows what she thought of the flush of red that crept across my face?

I mumbled a lame apology about arriving without notice.

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