His tone had become gruff and serious.“Because I put a GPS in it and I tracked it to you.”
A GPS in his phone? I knew that to bepossible, so I’d have to admit I had it. Sooner or later.
“I don’t have your backpack.” I resisted theurge to turn, but I raised my voice. “The building landlord took itand is going to give it to the police.”
“Damn!” He paused. “Keep your back turned andspread out your arms so I can see.”
I stalled a moment. I opened my poncho withboth hands, hoping the folds of the thing, along with the darkness,would conceal the phone in my hand. No such luck.
He grabbed my arm and snatched the phoneaway. “I was right. This is mine.”
I played dumb. “I don’t believe you. Who areyou, anyway?”
No answer.
“How did you come to leave it in that flat?”Still no answer, and I didn’t move. I’m cowardly that way. But thenI heard running footsteps. I turned in time to catch only a glimpseof a man sprinting down the street. Damn!
I returned to the house and climbed thestairs to my apartment. Holmes looked anxious, but Tessa wasn’tthere.
Reading my mind, Holmes said, “Yourgrandmother has retired for the night, but I shall remain if youhave something of interest to report.”
As briefly as I could, I described what hadhappened, how the murderer forced me to return his phone and thendisappeared again. I glanced at my watch. “Its almost midnight. Whydon’t we retire and I’ll tell you more about it in themorning?”
He stared upward for a moment and clasped hishands behind his back. “Very well. I suspect you know you will losethe wager we have made, and that is why you are in no hurry toexplain. Tell Mrs. Hudson I will have tea in the morning. Goodnight.”
He disappeared through the doorway into thehall and soon I heard the door of the guest bedroom close.
* * *
Holmes did not have tea the next morningafter all, there being no Mrs. Hudson to bring it to him. However,I’d become addicted to tea during my visit to England, so, when heentered the sitting room where Watson and I sat at the table, I wasdrinking tea and serving coffee to Watson. Holmes didn’t evenmention tea. He looked the same as he had the night before,apparently requiring neither tea nor a change of clothes. I waslearning a lot about ghosts.
He paced the floor, the only exercise hemight get in his present condition, and stopped in front of thefireplace. “Satisfactory or not, tell me what occurred last night.Did you retrieve the murderer’s telephone device?”
“Yes and no.”
Watson interrupted me. “Are you speaking toHolmes?”
“Yes.” I had spent thirty minutes beforeHolmes emerged from his room, not just sharing croissants withWatson but explaining about the way the ghost of Holmes had enteredmy life. So Watson merely listened to me and stared, as I did,toward the fireplace.
I told Holmes about Doc returning the cellphone to me and how the murderer—or whoever he was—put a gun in myback and took his phone away from me.
Holmes’s face bore a puzzled look. “How couldhe possibly know you had it and where you were?”
I turned to Watson. “He wants to know how.” Iexplained some more. “As I said before, you can’t hear Holmes, buthe can hear you.”
Watson spoke as he might have whileexplaining things to a group of students when he taughtschoolchildren. “The man told Sherry he had a GPS in his cellphone, which could be remotely activated and reveal its whereaboutsif he lost it.”
“A GPS?” Holmes approached the table. “Whatthe devil is a GPS?”
“He wants to know what a GPS is,” I said toWatson. “Remember he has over a hundred years of technology tocatch up with.”
Watson sighed before beginning. “GPS standsfor Global Positioning System, and it enables us to know our exactposition anywhere in the world.”
Holmes seemed thoughtful for a long moment,then spoke in a loud voice. “My word! That is truly amazing.”
“However, you don’t want to know how itworks,” I said, reminding him of his disinterest in the solarsystem and other scientific discoveries.
“On the contrary. I do not wish to clutter upmy mind with unnecessary details, but the ability to locate someoneanywhere in the world is a tool any detective should rejoice toown.”
I repeated his words to Watson.
“Oh, but it’s not that simple.” Watson thenwent on to explain about the satellites orbiting the earth whichsend signals to devices that are designed to receive them. “And youcan’t just find someone if he doesn’t want to be found.”
Holmes paced some more, no doubt absorbingthe information. “If one cannot track a fugitive via this method,then what practical good is it?”
“It’s very practical,” I insisted. “Todayalmost every new automobile is equipped with one, and it will tellthe driver which routes to take in order to reach a specificdestination. They have built-in maps, too, so you don’t need apaper map in order to get where you want to go without gettinglost. A recording with a woman’s or man’s voice gives turn-by-turninstructions.”
Holmes sounded a bit sarcastic. “Admirable,I’m sure.”
Watson, having apparently warmed to histopic, went on, explaining how the system developed, about thetwenty-four satellites and their orbits and the accuracy of GPSreceivers.
As if reluctantly accepting the explanation,Holmes dropped heavily into the arm chair. “Very well. I grant youthis GPS is a remarkable device, but our task is to find a murdererand you say we can’t find him, even with the device, if he doesn’twish to be found.”
I repeated that to Watson, and then added.“Thanks, by the way, for suggesting I try pressing ‘Home’ on hisphone. That worked.”
Holmes leaned forward. “What worked? Are yousaying you found the man’s name in that device?”
“Not his name, but something almost as good.His home telephone number.” I confess I smirked a bit at thispoint. “And Watson, here, turned that number into a name andaddress.”
Watson took up the explanation. “There’s areference book called a Reverse Telephone Directory which can dothat if you know how to access it.”
Holmes rose and came to the table quickly.“You say the directory told you his name and where he lives? Thenwhy are you sitting here
