It seemed like an age before we arrived at Whitehall playhouse, not a word had been spoken since the revelation that the 4th in our group was to be the ‘detective’ Homer. When we stopped I was the first out of the hansom and proceeded to help Miss Harland out of the carriage, Jones practically fell out with the same look of horror upon his face that had appeared at the emergence of the news regarding Homer. Miss Harland linked her arm through mine and it was at this point that I thought to ask her the question that had been going around my mind, “Miss Harland, may I ask why you thought it good to engage Homer on this assignment,” I said cautiously.
“Please Doctor, I said call me Tia, and despite yours and Mr Jones’ reservations, I sought to enlist the help of the detective after reading through the papers, it was he who solved the mystery on reform street where he worked out that the young man was Eric Hall and it was his employer John Scarlet who had stabbed him in anger. And from the report in the Times about the incident at El Balcone it was clear that it was detective Homer who found the key piece of evidence that proved Captain Mustard was the murderer,” Her talk was interrupted by Jones giving out what can only be described as a cry of anguish, before Tia carried on with her answer to my question, “It was the good detective who recommended me to you two saying that despite Mr Jones’ failure he was a competent detective and that you were a man of impeccable height.”
“Well I thank him for the compliment and for the introduction, but I fear if this mystery is to be solved then it would be best to put our trust in Jones, he will get to the bottom of it, will you not Jones?” I said turning to my companion.
“Hmmm, err yes Watson….I mean Sexy, you can put full trust in me Miss, before tonight is over we will know the truth of what happened ten years ago.”
We arrived at the doors of the playhouse and there waiting for us was the man who had occupied my companions nightmares for these past months: Homer. Today he was dressed as abnormally as before, his trousers were as white as ivory, he wore a shirt that was so small that it was clearly designed for a person of 3 foot in height and over that a cape that he proceeded to use to cover his face and yell “blagh blagh, I vanna suck your blood.” And there it was his trademark Deerstalker hat this time wore inside out, upon his elbow.
“Ah, there you two are, my comrade in detective work Jones and the excellent Doctor Sexy, how are you fine fellows this morn.” He asked.
Jones was first to respond, “If you would use the detective skills that the lady here believes you to have then you can deduce that it is the evening and not the morning.”
Before an argument could break out at least on Jones’ part as Homer was smiling at a pigeon, a man approached our group. “Miss Harland?” he asked, “Yes,” she replied.
“If you would like to follow me into this carriage it will take you to your host, I apologise for the secrecy but my employer needed to make sure you hadn’t brought the police.” We entered the carriage. I sat near Tia, while Jones sat opposite and Homer climbed onto the roof despite our protests, the journey was not long before we stepped out and found ourselves in the Lochee area of Dundee being shown into one of the tenements on the street. The room we entered was full of African design, many pieces of cloth in bright vibrant colours were adorned on the walls and upon a pile of large cushions was a man in his late 20s smoking a hookah pipe. He motioned for us to sit and myself and Tia took a sofa, Jones slumped down onto some cushions while Homer stood near the mantle staring at the clock on it and muttering “I’m not taking my eyes off of you.”
“Let me start by introducing myself, I am Malik Fernandez the son of the late Major Fernandez, a friend of your father Miss Harland, and I have been keeping a terrible secret these past 6 years that shall come out tonight and finally you will get what you fully deserve Miss.” He said looking at Tia the whole time.
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