Long Memories and Other Writings by Peter Cannon

Author:Peter Cannon
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Hippocampus Press
Published: 2022-11-12T06:00:00+00:00

II

I waited at home the next day, too excited to concentrate on either reading or writing, for Howard to ’phone, which he finally did in the early evening. He apologized for not getting in touch sooner, but he and Mr. Holmes had been engaged in intense conversation all through the afternoon.

“The man’s no less remarkable in person than in Dr. Watson’s accounts, Belknap,” said Howard. “Age seems to have little affected his keen intelligence. The good doctor’s assertions to the contrary in A Study in Scarlet, he has a wide and brilliant knowledge of many subjects. The only disturbing sign is a certain air of abstraction, a shortness of his attention span at times, perhaps a result of the blow he received from those hoodlums yesterday.”

“Where is he now?”

“Taking a nap. He does seem to need his rest.” Howard paused a moment, then continued. “I must say I’m immensely gratified that he seeks my help in this ‘case’ and yours, too, Belknapius. We discussed it, and we agreed there was every advantage in bringing you in on it. We old gentlemen could use a fresh, energetic kid like yourself .”

How my friend, less than half the age of Sherlock Holmes, could persist in his “old man” conceit in the circumstances was beyond me, but I held my tongue.

“As for the particulars of the case and what Mr. Holmes specifically desires of us, you’ll learn soon enough. Two days from now we’ll be coming into Manhattan to pay a call on Houdini, who’ll give us the straight dope. By all means you must join us for the meeting.”

“Why don’t you first stop by here with Mr. Holmes,” I said. “Then we could go on to Houdini’s place—he lives nearby.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Sonny. Swell. Unless Mr. Holmes has any objections, we’ll plan on swinging by the House of Long earlier that afternoon.”

“And he does plan to pay you?”

“Indeed, yes. He repeated his promise to pay Grandpa—and you—actual long green; you know, kale, jake, berries, details yet to be worked out. Boy, if this detective business doesn’t beat David V. Bush revisionism all to hell!”

“What shall we tell my parents?”

“I suppose we could tell them that he’s an amateur press associate of mine from Great Britain—or some such. Before our rendezvous I’m sure he and I can work out some plausible explanation for our acquaintance.

“By the way, I’ve persuaded our distinguished friend to drop that corny accent and ridiculous slang—he’ll blow his cover if he keeps it up.” Howard himself, of course, from time to time among those he knew well indulged in the use of slang, aware of the humorous contrast it made with his naturally formal and precise, almost archaic manner of speech.

In closing Howard said that he had to go shortly to wake up the detective, to take him on a walking tour of the Clinton Street neighborhood.

My parents wondered at my agitated behavior over the next two days, my mother fearing it might be the onset of some

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