Page 11 of Holmes Is Missing
Holmes clenched and unclenched his hands. “I’ll let you know in a second,” he said. He sat down on the end of his bed, facing Marple. “I have a confession to make,” he said.
Marple felt a flutter inside. She tried to deflect it with humor. “Look, Brendan. We already know you stole the bathrobe.”
“Margaret, I’m serious. I realized something up there at the funny farm.” Holmes clasped his hands tightly in his lap, as if to keep them from twitching. “My instincts are shot. I’m through as an investigator. I’ll never work a case again.” He lowered his head. “This is the end of Holmes.”
What?This was not the colleague and friend she knew. Brendan had many flaws, but lack of confidence had never been one of them. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You just got back. You need time. Auguste and I can take up the slack until you—”
“There’s something else,” said Holmes, cutting her off. “Something that might shock you even more.”
Marple’s mind started spinning. But before another word could pass, the sound of glass shattering violently came from downstairs.
CHAPTER14
MARPLE JUMPEDTO her feet and rushed out onto the interior balcony that overlooked the first floor, Holmes right behind her. Looking down, she saw Poe flailing around in the kitchen, slamming cupboards and kicking the baseboard violently. There was a broken cocktail glass at his feet, surrounded by a small, shiny puddle. He was already pouring himself a replacement for the drink he’d dropped—or thrown.
Marple headed for the staircase. Holmes followed. “Auguste!” she called out. “What happened? Where’s Helene?”
All three were in the kitchen now, crowded around the center island. Poe took a deep sip from his new glass. “Duty called,” he said grimly. He slammed the glass down hard enough to splash the contents onto his sleeve. He looked at Holmes, then at Marple. “Well, I was right. It’s true,” he said. “The baby’s mine.” Poe picked up the glass again and downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. “God, I pity this child!” he moaned.
Holmes leaned in close to his partner. “So you’d rather it was somebody else’s?”
Poe shook his head. “No. Of course not.”
“Then what are you so upset about?” asked Marple.
Poe held up his empty glass. “This,for one thing. It’s in the genes, you know.”
“The baby has twenty-three chromosomes from each of you,” said Holmes. “With any luck, Helene’s genome will be dominant.”
“Brendan,” said Marple. “Not helpful.”
“I didn’t exactly act the part of the overjoyed papa,” said Poe. “I may have chased her away.”
“It was a shock,” said Marple. “You’re still adjusting. Let things breathe.”
Holmes squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. “This may not be the best time, Auguste, but I’m afraid I have some news too.” He glanced at Marple. “I’m quitting the firm.”
Then, without another word, Holmes turned and walked out the front door.
Poe faced Marple, clearly agitated. “Did you know about this?”
“He told me he was shaky,” Marple replied. “I didn’t think he would actually quit.”
“Should we go after him?”
Marple shook her head. “Not now.”
Poe grabbed another glass from a tray and poured Marple a drink from his bottle. He stopped mid-pour. “Sorry,” he said. “I forgot you don’t drink bourbon.”
Marple grabbed the glass and knocked back the booze in one gulp.
“I do now,” she said.
CHAPTER15
THE BOURBON DIDnot agree with her. Marple was still awake at midnight when she heard Holmes return to his apartment next door. At least he hadn’t fled the city. Or the country.
Better not to press him tonight,she decided. Maybe his outlook would change in the morning. Poe had turned in hours earlier, his melancholy over Helene’s pregnancy apparently doubled by Holmes’s announcement. Marple noticed a flicker of movement in a corner, near the base of a reading table. Her heartbeat quickened, then settled. It was her mouse-hunting cat, Annabel, a gift from Poe, who understood Marple’s intense aversion to rodents. The feline had done an excellent job keeping them at bay since she’d moved in.