The Sherlock Holmes Megapack by Michael Kurland

Author:Michael Kurland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, sleuth, detective, sherlock holmes, murder, crime, private investigator
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2014-03-11T16:00:00+00:00

THE CASE OF VAMBERRY THE WINE MERCHANT, by Jack Grochot

Our visitor at Baker Street this crisp, sunny autumn afternoon was overcome with anxiety, pacing back and forth in front of the settee and, alternately, seating himself on it momentarily, then rising to pace once more. “My dilemma,” he said with agitation to my friend Sherlock Holmes, “is profound. If I act to engage your services, Mr Holmes, it could mean her death. But if I do nothing, her life is nonetheless in danger.”

Holmes sat speechless, his bony elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his slender fingertips touched together, and his dark eyes vacant. He waited patiently for Bascomb McHugh to complete his laboured thoughts. After an elongated silence, McHugh blurted out: “Damn! It’s your advice that I need this instant. Can I pay you for that alone? I must find a way out of this predicament and protect my sweet little sister.”

As he had explained earlier, McHugh found himself in the midst of a problem that had no simple answer, and the fate of his kidnapped sister hung in the balance. She was married to Heathcliff Vamberry, a wine merchant in the Hampshire countryside west of London, and upon a visit there the day before, a Sunday, McHugh learned that the petite and comely woman was missing from her home. He questioned his brother-in-law harshly, for the two never got along, and finally came to find out that Mrs Vamberry had been abducted while alone in her house adjacent to the winery as her husband was tending to his vineyard. Vamberry discovered a ransom note, pasted together with letters and words cut out from a newspaper, on the dining room table. He reluctantly showed it to McHugh. It demanded fifty thousand pounds for Mrs Vamberry’s safe return, and it warned in bold letters:

“No coppers, else she dies.”

The crude communication instructed the husband to leave the money in a canvas sack on a bridge over the River Avon about two kilometers from the winery on Tuesday night at ten o’clock.

“And here it is, Mr Holmes,” Bascomb McHugh stated, “late in the day on Monday, and my brother-in-law has gone to the bank to withdraw his savings, which amounts to a sum of around thirty thousand pounds. I am well fixed, and I can lend him the remainder, but what guarantee do we have that my poor, beautiful sister will be unharmed?” His icy blue eyes flashed, anticipating the worst outcome. It was at this point that McHugh emphasised his profound dilemma and begged Holmes for advice.

Holmes rose and approached the mantle to retrieve a cherrywood pipe half full of shag tobacco. Ever calm in stressful situations, he contemplated briefly while he nonchalantly struck a match and inhaled the mixture.

“Advice I can offer free of charge,” he told McHugh, adding: “If I were Mr Vamberry, I would send someone such as yourself to the authorities—rather than go himself, for he might be under surveillance—and allow the police to become involved, because they are experienced in delicate matters that require discreet maneuvering.

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