The Magnificent Madness of Tessa Wiggins by Kim Krisco

Author:Kim Krisco
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Druid, Celtic, Witch, Halloween, Sherlock Holmes, Earth Mother, Celts, Wales, Welsh, Priestess, Haunted, Madness, Divine Madness, Druidess, Nature, Sacrifice, Tomb
ISBN: 9781787058484
Publisher: Andrews UK
Published: 2021-12-14T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Four

“LET US BRING REASON TO THE TABLE,” Holmes implored as he fended off anxious plans and pleas from the Davis sisters and Clark. “Hellingford is at best corrupt, and at worst, a criminal enterprise. It would be fool hearty to charge in like the proverbial bull in Thomas Goode’s. Tessa sent us valuable information, and we must use it.”

Holmes then went about giving instructions in the manner of General Haig. Clark and Cian were to review the map of Hellingford that Tessa sent, adding more details and noting all entrances and exits. Watson would accompany Holmes on the next train to the city where the doctor would engage Professor Stone and seek information about the Crossley parked at Hellingford. Holmes would make a side trip, disembarking at Pangbourne and proceeding to Purley-on-Thames to learn more about their adversary.

“What’s in Pangbourne?” Watson asked.

“Not what, who,” Holmes told him, putting his finger to one side of his nose. “I’ll join you on your return trip from London,” he added.

Knowing they were champing at the bit for something to do, Holmes asked the Davis sisters if they would loan their auto and locate a recent map of the island of Anglesey. When Margaret asked: “Why,” he answered: “because the treasure is there.”

“Watson, I, and hopefully Professor Stone, will be back late this evening. We will burn the midnight oil and be on our way to extricate Tessa at dawn.”

“I’ll make plenty of coffee,” Gwenda said, happy to have some part to play. Elis, the butler, seemed content to have no assignment.

***

The train bore Holmes and Watson past mounds of slate tailings, belching chimneys, and pastures glinting with autumn color. Holmes knew that the mutual trust that Watson and he held was in jeopardy, and he intended to put it right during this trip.

What is it about train rides that cause friends, or even strangers, to open the door to their deepest selves? Maybe it’s the unbroken rhythm of steel wheels reminding us that we are pursued by time or the illusion that we know where we are going.

Watson appeared to be enjoying the countryside, but Holmes knew better. “Well, Watson, the pieces are coming together,” he said to breach the silence.

The doctor turned to him. “More in your mind than mine.”

He nodded. “We all have our secrets, Watson. I say this not as an excuse but knowing that when I expose this skeleton in my cupboard, my excuses will appear feeble—or even ugly—the truth having been held captive for so long in the dark.”

Watson’s heart sank upon seeing the mortification in his friend’s eyes.

“So, Watson, let me tell the story of Dr. Mayer. It began thirty years ago at Reichenbach Falls. You were with me, but that was before Moriarty and I grappled at the edge of the falls. I bid a hasty farewell to life in that final struggle, but it was Moriarty who toppled first. I skidded down the slippery wall of the abyss in a less dramatic fashion. I was amazed when I came to my senses on the shores of Brienz Lake.

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