The Beekeeper's Apprentice - Laurie R. King [86]
“Odd, though; I should not have thought Dickson likely to be clumsy.”
“Oh, not suicide, surely? After a series of revenge killings?”
“None of us are dead,” Holmes reminded him.
“Yet,” I muttered, but they ignored me.
“Yes, that is provocative, is it not? Let us keep that in mind.”
“If he was employed—” Holmes began.
“I suppose Lestrade will examine his bank accounts?” Mycroft asked doubtfully.
“—and it was not just a whim among some of my old acquaintances—”
“Unlikely.”
“—to band together to obliterate me and everyone close to me—”
“I suppose I should have been next,” Mycroft mused.
“—then it does make me wonder, rather, about Dickson’s death.”
“Accident and suicide are unlikely. Could a bomber’s boss bomb a bomber?”
“Pull yourself together, Mycroft,” Holmes ordered sternly.
“It is a valid question,” his brother protested.
“It is,” Holmes relented. “Can some of your people look at it, be-fore the Yard?”
“Perhaps not before, but certainly simultaneously.”
“Though there will not be much evidence left, if it was tampered with.”
“And why? Dissatisfaction with the man’s inefficiency?”
“Or wishing to save a final payment?”
“Makes it difficult to hire help in the future,” Mycroft noted prac-tically.
“And I shouldn’t have thought money was a problem, here.”
“Miss Russell’s bomb is of the highest quality,” agreed Mycroft.
“It is most irritating that Dickson is no longer available,” Holmes grumbled.
“Which may be why he was removed.”
“But he did not manage to kill us,” Holmes protested.
“Anger at his failure, and determination to use alternate methods?”
“That’s encouraging,” I tried, “no more bombs,” but Holmes ploughed on.
“You’re probably right. Still, I should have liked to speak with him.”
“I blame myself. I ought to have put a man to watch immediately, but—”
“You had no reason to assume he would arrive so quickly.”
“No, not after his gap of—”
“—a full day,” supplied Holmes blandly.
“—a full day,” said Mycroft, not looking at me.
“If only I had been able to reach Russell’s place earlier....”
I had had enough of this verbal tennis match, so I walked out onto the court and sliced through the net.
“You did not reach ‘Russell’s place’ because Sunday’s attempt to blow you into many untidy bits left you unconscious until dusk on Monday.” Holmes looked at me, Mycroft Holmes looked at his brother, and I looked at the string in my hands complacently, like Madame Defarge at her knitting.
“I did not say I was unconscious,” Holmes said accusingly.
“No, and you tried to make me think the bomb went off Monday night. You forget, however, that I have had some experience of the progressive appearance of cuts and bruises, and the wounds on that back of yours were a good forty-eight hours old when I first saw them, not twenty-four. On Monday I was in my rooms until three o’clock, and you did not get in touch with me. Mrs. Thomas laid a fire, pre-sumably at her customary time. Therefore you were still non compos mentis until at least five o’clock. At eight o’clock, however, when I re-turned, I found Mr. Thomas unnecessarily repairing a light fixture in the hallway outside my door, and as you now tell me he is in your em-ploy, it becomes evident that at some point between five and eight you telephoned him and ordered him to watch my rooms until I returned. And probably after that, as well, knowing you.
“On Tuesday I expect that you would have had Mr. Thomas keep me from my rooms, had you not been determined to make your way up yourself, despite a concussed brain and a raw back. I assume that you intended to arrive somewhat earlier than you did, and Mr. Thomas went off his guard, as he had been told that his services would after that time no longer be required. What held you up, that you did not arrive until six-thirty?”
“Six twenty-two. A positively diabolical series of happenstances. Lestrade was late for our meeting, the matron hid my clothes, the tramp was brought in, and I had to seize