The Unpleasantness at Baskerville Hall (Reeves & Worcester Steampunk Mysteries Book 4) by Chris Dolley

Berrymore’s wife is the cook, sir.”
    “Oh, and these Berrymores, did they offer an alternative candidate, or don’t they think the ghost was genuine?”
    “They both believe in the ghost, sir, but doubt Selden is its agent. Mrs Berrymore became rather distressed when she first heard of the identity of the escaped convict. Mr Berrymore says it was on account of her affection for cats.”
    “Well known for her affection for cats, is she?”
    “Not that I had observed, sir, but I have only been here for the one day.”
    “The kitchen’s not filled to the rafters with moggies then?”
    “No, sir.”
    I finished my cocktail and waited while Reeves re-filled my glass from the jug.
    “We still don’t believe in ghosts, do we, Reeves?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Which makes Lupin favourite for that role. No one else could have climbed out of that window.”
    Reeves gave one of his disapproving coughs, which I waved away.
    “I know you’re an orang-utan denier, Reeves, but once one has eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however hairy, must be the truth.”
    “If you say so, sir.”
    “I jolly well do say so. Which brings us to Pasco. Why would anyone kill him, and then go to such great pains to hide his body — even after half the household had already seen it!”
    “That is a puzzle, sir.”
    “Could Pasco be more important than people realise?”
    I stared at the ceiling, sucked on an olive, and had a good ruminate.
    And then, somewhere in between the cornice and the ceiling rose, it came to me.
    “ The Mystery of the Twelve Carbuncles , Reeves!”
    “Sir?”
    “The Sherlock Holmes adventure about the chap hiding stolen carbuncles inside Napoleon. What if someone had hidden stolen carbuncles inside Pasco?”
    “To what end, sir?”
    “What do you mean ‘to what end?’ To hide them of course. Imagine you’re a jewel thief, Reeves. You’ve just grabbed a fistful of carbuncles, but the police have spotted you and are in hot pursuit. You run into the first building you see, and find yourself inside an automaton factory. They do have automaton factories, don’t they, Reeves?”
    “They do, sir.”
    “Good, that’s sorted then. So, there you are — inside the automaton factory — apprehension imminent, and you spot a place you can hide your stash — inside Pasco, whose lying on the assembly line half assembled. You hide the carbuncles, leg it for the door, and get nabbed by the rozzers. Off you go to chokey, knowing that as soon as you get out, the carbuncles will be waiting for you safe inside this Pasco chap. What do you think, Reeves?”
    “An imaginative theory, sir, but Selden was not a jewel thief.”
    “It doesn’t have to be jewels, Reeves. It could be anything. You forget we’re dealing with the mind of a cat. It might be a favourite toy, or a half-eaten mouse that he was particularly fond of.”
    “It is my recollection, sir, that Selden was apprehended in Clerkenwell, a district not well known for its automaton factories.”
    “It wouldn’t have to be a factory. A repair shop would work just as well.”
    “But how would Selden, sir, having been incarcerated for ten years, be cognisant of Pasco’s current whereabouts?”
    “Mere details, Reeves. The theory is sound.”
    “If you say so, sir.”
    I put down my glass. I had to say something.
    “Reeves, I have noticed you using that term a lot of late, and I don’t think I like it.”
    “Sir?”
    “This ‘If you say so, sir’ of yours. It smacks of condescension. I may not have a giant brain like yours, but it’s surprisingly nimble. It flits, Reeves. It finds strange places to perch on. Places that few people even know exist. I may not always be right, but I’m not a chap with two left ears either.”
    “I apologise, sir. I will re-write that particular subroutine immediately.”
    “Thank you, Reeves. Now where were we?”
    “You were theorising that Selden had left a dead mouse inside Pasco, sir.”
    I decided it time