The Mummy of Mayfair by Jeri Westerson

Author:Jeri Westerson [Westerson, Jeri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2024-03-12T00:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

Watson

Ben Watson stood in the corridor, looking up one way and then down the other – whitewashed walls and an arched ceiling with black iron girders that flanked the length of the corridor. He wondered where Archer’s office was but decided to simply look about, see what he could see.

There was a clutch of young men in dark suits, who looked barely out of university, standing near an open doorway to a ward. Ben took them to be doctors or possibly students. He made his way towards them and tipped his hat when they turned to face him. ‘Good morning, gents. My name is Benjamin Watson, and I am investigating the death of Doctor Enoch Sawyer.’

Instead of huffing and harrumphing as older gentlemen did at his announcement, they looked on at him eagerly.

‘You don’t say?’ said one with chestnut hair, parted and combed back artfully off his forehead. ‘Like Sherlock Holmes?’

For once, Ben smiled at the comparison. ‘Indeed, sir, just like it. He is, in fact, a colleague of ours.’

‘I say!’ said a sandy-haired youth. ‘That’s ripping!’

A ginger-haired fellow with a collar almost as stiff as Ben’s offered his hand to shake. ‘What can we do for you, old chap?’

Slightly taken aback at their eagerness to help – it certainly was not the usual thing for Ben – he adjusted his waistcoat and offered them all a smile. ‘You’re all doctors here, I take it. In fact …’ He looked each over and decided to fluff his importance by using a bit of the method. ‘You, sir,’ turning to Ginger, ‘are fond of powdered sweeties and pastries. And you, sir,’ he said to Sandy, ‘have a penchant for cigarettes. And you’ – he nodded towards Chestnut – ‘have a newly acquired sweetheart.’

They all stilled with open mouths and turned towards one another. Chestnut sputtered, ‘Tha-That’s extraordinary! How did you ever guess these things?’

‘A proper detective never guesses. We deduce. I noted a fresh flower in your lapel and an older one just visible in the pocket of your waistcoat. Had it not mattered to you, you would have simply tossed it. But you wished to keep it as a memento, and your whole appearance, I must say, is clean and neat, unlike your fellow students here.’ The others laughed good-naturedly. ‘And you, sir, have nicotine stains on your fingers, ash on your pocket and a burn hole in your breast pocket where you hastily put a not-quite-extinguished cigarette.’

Sandy looked down at his pocket and chortled. ‘Good heavens!’

‘And you, sir, have the dusting of sugar on your lapel as well as the corner of your mouth.’

‘I am impressed!’ said Ginger, wiping at his mouth with some embarrassment. ‘It is as if a Sherlock Holmes tale has come to life. And you even know we are students.’

‘The haphazard attendance to your personal, er, hygiene and hair – except for this gentleman, who is still in the throes of impressing a lady – would indicate your need for quick dressing and flinging yourself into your studies.

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