I finished my last sentence striding into theother room where I placed my goodies on the counter. When Ireturned to the sitting room, I saw Holmes had found my oldfashioned goose-neck lamp, plugged it into the outlet and turnedits light on two photographs on the table top. I sat down near thelight.
Holmes handed me the magnifying glass.”Observe, if you please, these photographs which, I have no doubt,are of the same woman.”
“Adele Parton Andrews,” I said with asmile.
“Just so.”
“And do you agree with my suspicion that shewas Parton’s sister and Andrews’ wife?”
“It would seem you are correct in thatassumption, but we will leave that to be determined at a latertime. Meanwhile...”
“Meanwhile what?”
“Please focus the glass in your hand uponthese pictures.”
“They’re undoubtedly the same woman, althoughthe pictures seem to have been taken at different times.”
“The one you saw in the man’s knapsack andphotographed with your little camera seems to be somewhat morerecent than the one the newspaper reporter found, possibly from auniversity collection.”
“You mean like a Yearbook.”
“Or a commencement announcement, if the ladyfinished her studies.”
I gave both photos my attention for a fewminutes. “I agree with you.”
“Do you notice anything else, other than thesimilarity of the shape of the woman’s face, her eyes, her mouth,the arrangement of her hair?”
“Those all seem similar, but the clothing isdifferent. Although the photographs are both head shots, in thefirst she appears to be wearing a dress with a white orlight-colored collar, and in the second a dark jacket.”
“Something else. Come, come, you must be moreobservant if you wish to become a good detective.”
I stared at both again, and finally it hitme. In both pictures the woman wore a necklace on a chain aroundher neck. The chain being fine and the pendant small, to saynothing of the limitations of taking photographs of photographs, nowonder I hadn’t noticed it earlier.
“The necklace,” I said. “In both pictures sheseems to wear the same necklace.”
“Describe it to me please.”
“I did so, although, not being a person whocares very much for jewelry, my description no doubt lackedsubstance.
Holmes supplied it. “The chain is probablysterling silver rather than gold and the pendant is made ofamber.”
“Amber? How can you be so sure?”
“I once did a study on the various kinds ofprecious and non-precious stones used in jewelry.”
Of course. I should have guessed he’d donethat.
“Amber,” he continued, “is not considered aprecious stone, but when cut and polished, its qualities of colorand variation from lightest yellow to deepest orange make anattractive adornment. Observe how the stones have been placed in asilver setting to resemble...”
I finished his sentence. “...a curled-up,sleeping cat.”
“Bravo. I believe you are correct.”
I rubbed my eyes. “Or, might it be...”
“Our first impressions are the right ones,”Holmes said. “It appears the jeweler found a stone that resembled acat and used it for the pendant rather than, perhaps, fashionsmaller stones into a flower or other object.”
“It’s very pretty.” I paused. “Even if we’reright, how does that help us find Parton?”
“All in good time. We must give the mattermore thought.”
He rose and faced the door, as ifanticipating someone entering the room. Soon enough, I heard aknock, and when I called, “Come in,” Watson appeared once more.
“You have a sixth sense when it comes tofinding free food,” I joked.
He left the door open and glanced around, asif looking for someone.
“Tessa isn’t here,” I told him.
“No, I just saw her downstairs. She saysshe’ll be up directly. I wondered if...“
”Yes, Sherlock Holmes is here. If you move afoot to your left you’ll bump into him.”
Watson glanced left but hurriedly movedright, stopping at the table where he set down the day’s newspaperand boldly picked up the photos Holmes and I had been looking at.“This is the woman they found in the well, right?”
“Right.” I told him how Tessa and I had goneto the library and found a second newspaper account of the deadwoman. “We think she was Parton’s sister and married Andrews.”
Watson looked up. “He kill her?”
“We don’t know.”
“Gives Parton a reason to murder Andrews,doesn’t it?”
“We don’t know that for sure, either.”
Watson opened the Chronicle to thethird page. “Today’s paper says the medical examiner isn’t finishedexamining Andrews’ body but he had a broken neck as well as a gashin his head.”
“A broken neck?” I repeated. “I suppose thatcould have been the cause of death as much as falling and strikingthe marble fender in front of the fireplace.”
“I guess so. I haven’t seen the place inweeks. Are you set to go there tonight so we can look for themissing bullet?”
“I haven’t phoned Mr. Kostitch to ask if wecould come back.”
“Well, don’t. If he says ‘No,’ and we goanyway we’re guilty of trespassing. I can just say I wanted tocheck the appliances, because it’s my job to make sure they workokay.”
Holmes chuckled and sat on the horsehairsofa. “I see Americans have not lost their independent spirit.”
“So,” Watson continued, “shall we have somedinner, play a game of cards with Tessa and then go over to theflat when it’s late enough?” He laughed. “Could Holmes make up afourth for cards?”
At that, Holmes rose from his seat andstretched himself to his full height. “I shall be happy to joinyou, but your friend may regret asking, inasmuch as I am a championat Whist.”
* * *
For those of you who don’t already know,Whist is a very old card game using the usual fifty-two cards in adeck and played by four people, two of whom may—or may not—bepartners. It’s so simple, compared to Contract Bridge which evolvedfrom it in about 1925, that Tessa taught both Watson and me withina few minutes. And I enjoyed it. Plus Holmes’s boast came true, andhe scored more points than the rest of us.
Admittedly, both Watson and Tessa became alittle flustered when cards seemed to rise and return to the tableas if by magic, so perhaps his skill wasn’t his only weapon.
At ten o’clock, Tessa returned to her ownflat, I put away the cards, and
