I thanked him and helped Tessa down thestairs. As we said goodbyes on the sidewalk, Kostitch locked theouter door and frowned some more. “Don’t tell anyone I let you upthere.”
“No, of course not. Thank you again.”
Tessa and I retraced our steps to the cornerand returned to Baker Street. As we walked, she told me about how,in the mid-seventies or thereabout, the city offered to sell oldhouses for three hundred dollars each and move them to a differentsite.
I stopped walking and turned to her. “Onlythree hundred dollars for an entire three-story Victorian house?And they would move it and install it somewhere else besides?”
“Not exactly. They stipulated you had toprove you had thirty thousand dollars available in order to bringthe building up to code.”
She continued to walk, and I followed.“That’s still a bargain.”
“It was more money in those days. Thirtythousand hardly buys an old garage today. Besides, that didn’tinclude whatever the buyer might need to spend to restore theplace. Some of those old houses were in terrible shape.”
“However, it seems to me—“ I stoppedmid-sentence because we’d reached Tessa’s house and, standing atthe front door, stood a policeman.
Chapter 4
I climbed the steps and, apparently hearingor seeing me, the policeman turned around.
“Excuse me, officer, is something thematter?”
“You live here?” He spoke in a strong,authoritative voice.
“Yes.” I pointed to Tessa, who had remainedon the sidewalk staring at the black and white police cardouble-parked in the street. “My grandmother, Mrs. Reynolds, ownsthe building and lives on the ground floor.”
The cop came down off the steps at the sametime I did. “Anyone else?”
“I live on the second floor and a singlegentleman on the third.” When he didn’t comment, I repeated myquestion. “Is there a problem?”
“We responded to a call about excessive noisecoming from the building.”
“Noise?” Whatever had caused the police to becalled had stopped, because I heard nothing unusual. “What kind ofnoise?”
“Loud music.”
I paused and looked around and so did he.
“Well, it seems to have stopped now.” I nosooner said the words when the sound of a violin playing some loud,staccato music interrupted me. A rendering of what Irecognized—although I couldn’t name—as a classical piece.
“There,” the cop said. He turned as if readyto climb the stairs again.
I waved my arm. “That must be my house guest.He probably got bored. I shouldn’t have left him alone, but I’mback now and he’ll stop playing.” In fact the music stopped againthat very minute.
Once more the cop turned toward the street.“Well, see that he does. And if he must play loud music, be sureit’s not after nine o’clock. If it happens again, I’ll have toissue a citation.”
“Thank you, officer. It won’t happenagain.”
When the officer slid into the police carnext to his partner and they drove off, Tessa joined me and weclimbed the steps together. I said goodnight at her door, but sheinsisted on coming up to my apartment.
“I want to see Sherlock Holmes playing theviolin.”
“But you can’t see him, remember?”
“I could hear the violin. Why can’t I hearhim?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, but the violin didn’tshow up the same time Holmes did. I bought it at a second-handmusic store.” We’d reached my door by then and entered.
Holmes greeted us with a scowl and anaccusation. “If you had to add a violin to all the other items yousaid you copied from my digs, you might at least have procured abetter one. This sounds like a hyena’s mating call.” He replacedthe violin where I’d originally put it, on a small table in thecorner.
“I’m sorry it doesn’t meet with yourapproval, but I can’t afford a Stradivarius.”
“I’d have been happy with a Maggini, Guarnerior Amati. However,” he went on quickly, “I doubt I shall have muchtime for playing any violins when you tell me I must watch dozensof films on that machine in my room.”
“I’m not forcing you. I should think you’dwant to. If I had returned to earth a hundred years later, I’dcertainly want to know what people had been up to while I wasgone.”
“In this interim, I suspect the answer willbe, ‘no good,’ but I’ll reserve judgement until I know more. Sofar, however, I must admit I’m impressed by your modernconveniences.”
Tessa apparently noticed that the violin,after magically appearing in midair, put itself on a table, andclutched my arm. “What is he saying?”
Holmes, as if responding to her question,immediately changed the subject again. “Unless of course, theadventure you set off upon an hour ago has provided something ofinterest.” He strode to the sofa and sat, arms resting along theback and a smile on his lips.
I hung up my poncho, pointed Tessa to achair, and sat next to the round center table, on which I placed mydetective kit.
Tessa didn’t sit, however. She smoothed herskirt and then strode over to the floor lamp and examined it underthe light. She waved me to come closer. “Look, Sherry. There’s astain on my skirt. I must have got it when I sat on that fireplacefender.”
I peered at the place she indicated andrubbed my finger over it. “Not soot. I wonder if it might beblood.”
Tessa agreed. “I’m sure it is. The dead manmight have struck his head on that sharp marble edge before fallingon the rug. You said you found bloodstains on the carpet.”
Holmes frowned again. “I see your grandmotheris playing detective as well.”
“I think she’s right. It’s quite possible theman did fall against the fender and gash his head.” I opened mydetecting kit and pulled out the envelope with rug fibers. “I tooksome samples of the bloodstains on that carpet, and we can comparethem to the stains on Tessa’s skirt. If they’re the same...”
Holmes laughed. “Bravo. You two have donevery well.” He rose and paced the room. “I believe it was in 1878,the year I met Watson, that I discovered an infallible test forbloodstains. At the time, dried blood could not be distinguishedfrom rust stains or fruit stains. However, I had found a reagentthat was precipitated by hemoglobin and nothing else.”
He smiled broadly and then resumed hisseat.
I watched Tessa
