A Scandal in Britain, Part 4/13

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

10 December

“The Addie case? The reporters finally stop asking about it, and now you want to know about it?”

We were sitting at Lestrade’s desk. The offices around us were dark; most of the other inspectors had gone home for the night. A single light burned white above Lestrade’s desk.

“I don’t want to know about it,” I said. “I need to know about it.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Well. I need to be at home with my family.” He stood and took his coat off a hook on the wall, shaking his head.

I glanced at the floor. I didn’t like to have to do this, but…… “Maybe you should have thought about your family when you were drinking those six beers here last night,” I said.

His eyes widened. “How - ”

I leaned down and lifted the wire mesh trash bin from beside his desk. There were six bottle caps in the bottom of the bin. He sighed, then hooked his coat back up and sat down again.

“Oh, go ahead,” he said. “It’ll go quicker if I humour you.”

I leaned forward. “Did she kill him?”

He closed his eyes and began to rub his temples. “No. But I wish she had. Would have made things easier for us.”

“Tell me everything.”

He gave a wry glance. “Don’t you know everything? You followed the case when it happened, didn’t you?”

“Nevertheless. I’d like to hear it from you.”

He took a deep breath. “Okay, then. Well. According to Addie, she and her husband, Godfrey Norton, frequently argued over his……” He licked his lips, searching for the right words. “Penchant for call-girls. It was an unfortunate habit of his that was documented in the press. She sent him a text a few hours before he died, saying that she was sorry about their most recent fight, and that she wanted to meet him at their home that night at nine.”

“So they fought,” I said.

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t a happy marriage,” John said. Lestrade and I glanced at him. He coloured. “Or so I’ve read.”

My eyes narrowed. “Suggestive.”

“Maybe.” He hesitated, then continued. “Norton disabled the security system at 8:47. Addie claimed it was a common habit of his when he was expecting her. Apparently it was faster than having her do it on the way in. So the entire house was unlocked from 8:47 until when Addie entered at 12:15. She turned on the lights and found her husband lying dead on the lounge sofa. She called the police at 12:17. We have the tape of the call, if you want it. She sounded absolutely terrified.”

“She is an actress,” I mused.

He ignored me. “He had been dead for approximately three hours. There was no blood on the body. The only injuries were bruises on his back and shoulders. His hair and clothing were dishevelled. One button had been torn off. And……” He cleared his throat. “There were handcuffs and some lotion on the end table.”

“A prostitute,” John murmured.

“It seems likely,” Lestrade agreed. “The autopsy results revealed he had a stroke. There was a family history of early deaths due to stroke - he wasn’t on any medications for high blood pressure - he led an extremely stressful life. It all fit. He hired a prostitute to spite Addie - then, when they……”

I sighed.

“Well! When they……” He grasped for a suitable euphemism. “Began their involvement, he had a stroke and he died. The unknown girl panicked and fled the scene. It all fits.”

I shook my head impatiently. “No. No, it doesn’t. What about the text she had sent? Telling him to meet her at the house at nine?”

“She claims she never sent it. She said it was a hacker.”

“Ha. Very likely.”

“I know what you’re thinking, Sherlock. And we all thought it, too. But Addie was seen by thousands of people at the time that Norton was killed. She was doing a fundraising concert that night with some other singers. She was onstage twice, from 7:32 to 8:33, and then from 9:23 to 9:31. In between, she was in her dressing room. There’s no way she could have gotten from the arena to her house and back, as she had encouraged her fans to march in conjunction with the concert to bring attention to the world’s poor. The entire area around the arena was jam-packed full of protestors.That was an interesting night’s work, let me tell you.” He rolled his eyes. “In any case, it took her nearly two hours to get home after the concert was finished. There‘s no way she could have gotten home and back in the time she was off the stage.”

“Maybe she had an alternate route that you didn’t find?”

“We timed it a dozen times.”

“A helicopter?”

“Sherlock. Timed it. A dozen times.” His nose wrinkled. “And a helicopter? You think you’re we so dense as to miss a helicopter?”

He had a point. Maybe. “A double onstage? All those singers lip-synch anyway.”

“Addie doesn’t lip-synch,” John muttered.

Lestrade ignored him. “The thought did occur to us. But there are a wide variety of people backstage who know her very well who swore to her presence.”

Finally John said something remotely credible. “A hit-man.”

I shook my head. “Possible. But my instincts say no. She would have scheduled it for during a night when she was on-stage the entire time and had a cast-iron alibi. Not when she was off-stage for fifty minutes while he died.”

The three of us sat there, stumped.

A thought occurred to me. “Which way was Norton lying?” I asked. “On his back or his stomach?”

“Back.”

“How many buttons were undone on his shirt?”

“Just the one that had been torn off.”

I leaned forward. “Were his trousers undone?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No.” He looked from me to John to me again. To his credit, he knew he was missing something. “Why?”

I didn’t answer. “A stroke, you say.”

“Yes.”

“Where did they live?”

“Crowborough Court. You know where that is? Posh neighbourhood. She still lives there.”

“Had she been touring out of the country?” I looked at John. “You said something about South America. Does she go to South America a lot? Where in South America?”

John bit his lip. “Um……”

Lestrade’s laptop was lying shut and unused on his desk. I turned it around and began to type furiously.

“Hey now, that’s my - ”

“Addie touring schedule 2007. Look. Her big South American tour, meant to coincide with the opening of her new school for orphans outside of Caracas. Which, in turn, is a short distance from El Parque Nacional Guaro-Gariquito.” My pulse was rapidly quickening. “I knew it.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Here. This should make the case considerably more interesting.” I turned the laptop around to face Lestrade. He blinked at it.

“Um…”

“The Royale family murders. 1981. Outside Caracas. The case of the abusive stepfather? Dr. Royale?” The smile suddenly fell off my face. “You have no earthly idea what I’m talking about, do you?” I slammed the laptop shut. “Well. All the more convenient for me, I suppose. Where’d you autopsy Norton’s body? Bart’s?”

“Yes, but - ”

I stood. “That’s all I need to know. Thank you, Lestrade. You’ve been an invaluable aid. Good evening.”

I left the office, John sighing and obediently following. I didn’t glance back, but I could feel Lestrade’s stare on my back.

***

Hmm. I came across better in this than I thought I would. Still don’t get the bit about the South American park, though. Guess I’ll stay tuned to see what a clueless idiot I am.

(Also, would you mind erasing the bit about the drinking? My wife occasionally Googles me.…)

- Comment posted by Gregory Lestrade


I think we’re getting closer to that thing. Can you please email the rough draft to me before you post it? Or maybe just not mention it at all? That would be great. Thanks.

- Comment posted by Molly Hooper


Trust me, I’m not keen on posting it myself. (Look at the firestorm that erupted in the comments in my last post. Now I know I’ll never hear the end of it.) But I did promise to tell the truth at the beginning of this account. You really shouldn’t be afraid of the truth, Molly.

- Comment posted by Sherlock Holmes


Oh, that Godfrey Norton! What a nasty chap, sleeping around like that! His poor wife. If I would have known she was that nice plumber girl, I’d have baked her a nice pie to take home with her.

Sherlock, did you know that you can make faces on the Internet? Mrs. Turner showed me yesterday! You type in a colon and a parentheses, like this - : ) It took me a moment to recognise it, but it’s a smiley face on its side! Isn’t that darling? I suppose you could also make a sad face if you change the direction… ) : I thought you might be interested in that since you’re on the Internet all the time.

- Comment posted by Mrs. Hudson


BORING. I want a chapter with some physical contact between you and John. Preferably one where John is lying down and you’re on top of him. <3 <3 <3

- Comment posted by Harry Watson


Or vice versa. I’m not picky. xoxo

- Comment posted by Harry Watson


HARRY!!! TOTALLY. INAPPROPRIATE!

Sherlock, don’t you have some kind of spam filter or comment verification or SOMETHING?????

- Comment posted by John Watson


Oh, she’s much too entertaining to ban.

Stay tuned, Harry. Your wish just might be fulfilled……

- Comment posted by Sherlock Holmes


You WOULDN’T. … You’re seriously going to post that?? Seriously? Does it really matter? Can’t you …just alter some details or something? UGH. I’ll never hear the end of it…

- Comment posted by John Watson


Are you afraid of the truth?

- Comment posted by Sherlock Holmes


o_O … Should I be worried?

- Comment posted by Sarah Sawyer


Um…it’s nothing. Really. It’s just…oh, never mind.

- Comment posted by John Watson


My boss is a tad disappointed that it took so long for you to start asking the right questions. He is not sure if he should hire you in the future if you make it a practice to miss such blatantly obvious clues.

- Comment posted by Anthea


No one’s making you hire me. And if I’m not as smart as you, at least I have more initiative. You have as much initiative as a dining room table. In any case, I’m ten times smarter than the police ever will be. Surely that counts for something.

- Comment posted by Sherlock Holmes


I’m right here, you know.

- Comment posted by Gregory Lestrade


You told me you’d stopped drinking!!!! What the hell? You’re going to get a good talking-to when you get home tonight. I cannot BELIEVE you!

- Comment posted by Alison Lestrade