when I arrived. If that was his plan, he wouldn’t have sent his message to me when he did. Or admitted, as he did, to being away from the office at all.”
Sabina nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. But I do still believe the two cases are connected somehow. Don’t you?”
“Possibly. Though at the moment I don’t see how.”
“Nor do I.” Sabina paused to tuck away a stray wisp of her dark hair before saying, “There are some other things you should know, John.”
“Yes?”
“For one, Jackson Pollard was here not long before you returned, all in a dither. And not just because of what happened last night. Two more claims, he said, have taxed his patience to the limit.”
“Two more?”
“Both filed today by Mrs. Costain. One for the assessed value of her missing jewelry.”
“And the other?”
“The Costains also have a joint life insurance policy with Great Western, for the double indemnity sum of fifty thousand dollars.”
“So the widow wasted little time, did she,” Quincannon said. “What did you say to Pollard?”
“That you knew the identity of the burglar, and expected to have him in custody and the stolen goods recovered soon. He should be somewhat mollified when he hears that you’ve accomplished that part of your mission.”
“But not completely until the Costain matter is cleared up.”
“No. And if that isn’t done soon to his satisfaction, we may well lose one of our best clients. He threatened as much.”
“It’ll be done, never fear.”
“Is that bluster, John? Or do you have some idea of the explanation for the Costain puzzle?”
“I never bluster,” Quincannon said, which earned him one of Sabina’s raised-eyebrow looks. “Of course I have some idea. No muddle, no matter how mysterious it might seem, has ever baffled me for long.”
“Not even the one of how Andrew Costain was murdered and his assailant managed to escape from a locked room and then a sealed house under close observation?”
“Pshaw. I know how that was done.” Which wasn’t true. Glimmerings of the truth, yes, now that Dodger Brown had been exonerated of the crime, but the exact details were still unclear. Soon, however. Soon.
“Do you, now?” Sabina said in tones that he chose not to construe as dubious. “And how was it done, pray tell?”
“All in good time, my dear. All in good time.”
“You may not have as much time as you think. You’re not the only one investigating the Costain murder.”
“If you mean that dolt Kleinhoffer-”
“No. I mean our ‘employee,’ thanks to you.”
“Employee? The bughouse Sherlock? I thought we were rid of him.”
“Not hardly. While Mrs. Costain was out making funeral arrangements today, he entered the house illegally. She caught him prowling around when she returned, and was in the process of evicting him when I arrived.”
“What the devil was he looking for?”
“He wouldn’t tell me when I met him outside,” Sabina said, “or when I suffered through his invitation to tea a short while later. But he seemed very pleased with his search.” Sabina paused again before continuing. “Now don’t get upset, John, but I overheard him tell Mrs. Costain that he was acting on our behalf.”
“Damn the man!”
“Mrs. Costain was beside herself, but I think I managed to unruffle her feathers. I don’t believe she’ll press charges.”
“If she does,” Quincannon said darkly, “he’ll be the one to suffer the consequences.”
“I told him as much. I also told him he’s to cease and desist pretending to be affiliated with this agency. He said he wouldn’t because it was no longer necessary.”
“What did he mean by that?”
“That’s the other thing you should know. He alluded to having solved the mystery of Andrew Costain’s death.”
“Alluded?”
“The phrase he used was
“Humbug! That addlepate couldn’t solve the riddle of how to fasten a pair of gaiters.”
“I’m not so sure about that, John.”
“Bah.” Quincannon began to restlessly pace the office. “The mystery will be solved shortly, yes, but not by that blasted Englishman.”
“Don’t be too cocksure. He may be a bit daft, but he’s canny nonetheless and he may well have found out something important, by accident if not by design. I think it would be a good idea if you spoke with him about it. As soon as possible.”
“Consult with that pompous buffoon? A waste of valuable time.”
“There’s another reason you should see him.”
“Yes? And what would that be?”
“He’s so certain of himself that he plans to arrange a meeting of the principals in the case, at which he’ll reveal what he knows or believes he knows.”
A favorite expression of Quincannon’s father when taken with sudden fury had been that “his blood ran hot as boiling tar and just as dark.” Such was an apt description of his own blood at this news. Snarling and muttering invective, he stomped the floor hard enough to produce tremors in the office furniture. From Sabina’s expression, she had expected his furious reaction. She maintained a prudent silence.
“Make false claims and try to steal my thunder, will he?” Quincannon said when he had a reign on his anger. “By Godfrey, he won’t get away with it!”
“Then you’ll see him tonight?”
“As soon as I can find the rank dingbat. Still encroaching on Dr. Axminster’s hospitality, is he?”
“He didn’t say.”
“I’ll start there.” Quincannon jammed his derby down so hard on his head that the brim blocked his vision momentarily. When he adjusted it upward, he saw that Sabina was putting on her hat as well.
“I’m going with you,” she said.
“No, you’re not-”
“Yes, I am. To forestall any mayhem you may be contemplating, if for no other reason.”
An owl-eyed housekeeper opened the front door of Dr. Caleb Axminster’s Russian Hill home and announced that the doctor had not yet returned from his surgery. From behind her, somewhere inside, Quincannon could hear the cheerful, somewhat fantastic plucking of violin strings-no melody he had ever heard before or wanted to hear again. It only served to start his blood boiling again.
He said, “It’s that blasted … it’s Sherlock Holmes we’ve come to see.” He handed the housekeeper his card, and she carried it and his and Sabina’s names away with her. Soon the violin grew silent, and shortly after that the housekeeper returned to usher them into a sitting room off the main parlor.
The Englishman, sprawled comfortably in an armchair, his violin and bow now on a table beside him, greeted them effusively. “Well, my esteemed colleagues, I must say I’m glad you’ve come. I intended to call on you at your rooms later this evening, Quincannon. Now you’ve saved me the trouble.”
“How do you know where I live?”
Holmes smiled his enigmatic smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? You have news? Located your pannyman, perchance?”
Quincannon glowered at him in silence. Sabina said, “Located and arrested Dodger Brown, yes. And recovered the burglary loot.”
“My dear Quincannon, you surpass yourself!” Holmes assumed a sly expression. “And did he confess to the
