Andrea Frazer - Holmes and Garden 01 - The Curious Case of the Black Swan Song by Andrea Frazer Page A
Authors: Andrea Frazer
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allergic to cats, are you?’
‘No. Why?’ Garden was curious.
‘Got myself a critter. It was a tiny, emaciated stray when I found it scavenging around the dustbins about three years ago, but we rather took to each other, and he’s been my constant companion ever since. Had a cat-flap put into the kitchen window above the work surface, and he comes and goes as he pleases. Name’s Colin. Dear old fellow.’ Holmes had come over quite sentimental at this speech, and it showed Garden another side of him.
‘I love cats, and shall look forward to meeting him. Where is he?’
‘If I know my old lad, the lady’s been in to feed him and he’ll be stretched out on my bed. We’ll go in there last, and I’ll introduce you to him.’
Garden’s room was light and airy, with a view of the back garden, the bathroom, again, in old-fashioned splendour of the latest manufacture. Finally it was time to meet the flat’s other occupant, and Garden followed its owner into the last room available for his view.
Ahead of him, he heard Holmes’ voice, no more than a coo, say, ‘Hello my fine fellow, Colin. How are you today my little precious?’ Garden rushed round the solid figure of his new landlord, already holding out a hand to stroke the dear little pussy cat, when a wild animal made a grab at his wrist with two enormous forepaws, and very sharp, needle-like teeth sunk themselves into the flesh of his hand, somehow avoiding the presence of the sticking plasters covering the previous attack by Sinatra.
He yelped with real pain, and Holmes immediately rushed to his aid. ‘I say, I’m so sorry, old chap. He’s not normally like that. You’ll have to excuse him; he’s had a very trying day today.’
Garden was about to agree, when he realised that Holmes was addressing the cat and not him at all. ‘But what about my wrist and hand?’ he whined, holding up the offending part of his body, which was beginning to drip with blood.
Turning his attention from soothing the cat, Holmes turned and asked in quite a cool voice, ‘Please don’t bleed on the bed covers. The bathroom is next door, if you wouldn’t mind going in there and cleaning yourself up. You startled him. That’s why he went for you. He’s very nervous, you know, having had to fend for himself when he was tiny. You’ll just have to get to know him and let him know you’re not a threat.’
‘I may not be, but he certainly is,’ replied Garden, but he said it inaudibly, for he felt he had found Holmes’ Achilles’ heel. He was totally besotted by this huge grey and white tabby, and could see no wrong in him. With any luck, though, he would not have to stay here long, and would soon be settled in his own little flat over the shop, as it were.
Chapter Eight
Still Saturday
When they got back to The Black Swan, Garden suitably plastered up again, this being his second animal-related mishap within two days, there was a helluva kerfuffle going on, and the place was swarming with policemen and men in white suits wearing masks. Pippa Bellamy was manning Reception, and Holmes headed straight for her. ‘What in the name of God is going on? I thought the police had just about finished what they needed to do.’
‘There’s been another death,’ she answered him, without a flicker of emotion.
‘Who this time?’
‘That awful woman Margery Maitland. Apparently she went off to fetch the tray of refreshments for her precious committee meeting, and never returned.’
‘How dreadful. Where was she found, and by whom?’
‘In the boot cupboard where I found your friend the other day, with the trolley still beside her.’
‘How had she been killed? I’m assuming it’s murder, and not natural causes, judging from the number of officials on the premises.’
‘She was garrotted with, they think, the electrical cord from one of the room’s lamps.’
‘Where has Inspector Streeter set up his interview centre?’
‘In the residents’ lounge, same as
‘No. Why?’ Garden was curious.
‘Got myself a critter. It was a tiny, emaciated stray when I found it scavenging around the dustbins about three years ago, but we rather took to each other, and he’s been my constant companion ever since. Had a cat-flap put into the kitchen window above the work surface, and he comes and goes as he pleases. Name’s Colin. Dear old fellow.’ Holmes had come over quite sentimental at this speech, and it showed Garden another side of him.
‘I love cats, and shall look forward to meeting him. Where is he?’
‘If I know my old lad, the lady’s been in to feed him and he’ll be stretched out on my bed. We’ll go in there last, and I’ll introduce you to him.’
Garden’s room was light and airy, with a view of the back garden, the bathroom, again, in old-fashioned splendour of the latest manufacture. Finally it was time to meet the flat’s other occupant, and Garden followed its owner into the last room available for his view.
Ahead of him, he heard Holmes’ voice, no more than a coo, say, ‘Hello my fine fellow, Colin. How are you today my little precious?’ Garden rushed round the solid figure of his new landlord, already holding out a hand to stroke the dear little pussy cat, when a wild animal made a grab at his wrist with two enormous forepaws, and very sharp, needle-like teeth sunk themselves into the flesh of his hand, somehow avoiding the presence of the sticking plasters covering the previous attack by Sinatra.
He yelped with real pain, and Holmes immediately rushed to his aid. ‘I say, I’m so sorry, old chap. He’s not normally like that. You’ll have to excuse him; he’s had a very trying day today.’
Garden was about to agree, when he realised that Holmes was addressing the cat and not him at all. ‘But what about my wrist and hand?’ he whined, holding up the offending part of his body, which was beginning to drip with blood.
Turning his attention from soothing the cat, Holmes turned and asked in quite a cool voice, ‘Please don’t bleed on the bed covers. The bathroom is next door, if you wouldn’t mind going in there and cleaning yourself up. You startled him. That’s why he went for you. He’s very nervous, you know, having had to fend for himself when he was tiny. You’ll just have to get to know him and let him know you’re not a threat.’
‘I may not be, but he certainly is,’ replied Garden, but he said it inaudibly, for he felt he had found Holmes’ Achilles’ heel. He was totally besotted by this huge grey and white tabby, and could see no wrong in him. With any luck, though, he would not have to stay here long, and would soon be settled in his own little flat over the shop, as it were.
Chapter Eight
Still Saturday
When they got back to The Black Swan, Garden suitably plastered up again, this being his second animal-related mishap within two days, there was a helluva kerfuffle going on, and the place was swarming with policemen and men in white suits wearing masks. Pippa Bellamy was manning Reception, and Holmes headed straight for her. ‘What in the name of God is going on? I thought the police had just about finished what they needed to do.’
‘There’s been another death,’ she answered him, without a flicker of emotion.
‘Who this time?’
‘That awful woman Margery Maitland. Apparently she went off to fetch the tray of refreshments for her precious committee meeting, and never returned.’
‘How dreadful. Where was she found, and by whom?’
‘In the boot cupboard where I found your friend the other day, with the trolley still beside her.’
‘How had she been killed? I’m assuming it’s murder, and not natural causes, judging from the number of officials on the premises.’
‘She was garrotted with, they think, the electrical cord from one of the room’s lamps.’
‘Where has Inspector Streeter set up his interview centre?’
‘In the residents’ lounge, same as
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