Page 9 of Holmes Is Missing
Marple stepped up and cocked her head. Was this what had made Poe nervous all day? Was there something he needed to get off his chest? She and Holmes followed him to an empty corner of the porch. Poe stared up at the treetops for a moment. Then it spilled out.
“Helene is pregnant. I’m the father.”
Marple reached over and gave Poe’s sleeve a hard tug. “Auguste! We’ve been driving together for five hours and you kept this to yourself?”
“I wanted to tell you both at the same time,” said Poe. “Get your gut responses at once.”
Marple’s gut response was shock, but she didn’t let it show. The timing seemed poor. Auguste and Helene had known each other barely four months. It was too early in the relationship. “Well, I think it’s wonderful,” she said after a moment. “You two make a terrific team.” This part she meant. She liked Helene alot. And maybe having a child would get Poe past his old sorrows and bring a little brightness into his life. God knew he’d had enough gloom.
Holmes turned toward them both, his back to the railing, his expression grim. “Personally, Iamconcerned,” he said. “For poor Helene!” He grabbed Poe by the shoulders. “Does she have any notion what it will mean to be linked for eternity to the dark and unfathomable Auguste Poe?”
“Brendan! Stop it!” scolded Marple.
Suddenly, Holmes broke into a broad smile.
In a snap, Marple could tell that the old Brendan was back. She glanced at Poe. From his expression, she could tell that he saw it too. Holmes reached out and pulled them both into a tight embrace. “You didn’t take me seriously, did you?” he said. “About staying here?”
“You sounded pretty convincing,” said Marple.
Holmes stepped back. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll just be a moment.”
He pulled open the front door and bolted into the building. A few seconds later, he emerged with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He headed down the porch stairs toward the car, still in his robe, pajamas, and now slippers. He turned back as his partners stared.
“What’s the problem?” he asked. “I showered this morning. Four times actually. I may be sober. But I’m still obsessive.”
CHAPTER11
THE DRIVE BACKto Brooklyn was strangely silent and awkward. After an initial burst of energy, Holmes seemed sullen. Marple tried to brief him on the hospital kidnapping, but he seemed oddly distracted—more focused on the passing scenery than on coming up with his usual theories and paths of investigation. Behind the wheel, Poe had turned brooding and uncommunicative again. He’d apparently given up on trying to reach Helene from the road.
After a few more stabs at conversation, Marple ended up spending most of the time on her iPad. First, she arranged to have Poe’s ’77 Trans Am, the car he’d lent Holmes months earlier for the drive to Ithaca, transported back to Brooklyn. She then set an alert for reports of other missing babies. So far, only New York and London. She’d asked Virginia to dig up a contact in Scotland Yard, London’s Metropolitan Police. Maybe they’d be willing to compare notes. By the time Poe pulled the GTO up in front of the firm’s Brooklyn headquarters a little before 7 p.m., she was a bit nauseated from staring at her screen.
As Marple climbed out of the car, she saw three figures emerge from the front door. Virginia. Baskerville. And Helene Grey.
The huge dog got to Holmes first, jumping on him with enough force to knock him backward. “Desist, you beast!” Holmes shouted in mock alarm before giving the dog an affectionate pat and a vigorous scratch between the ears.
“Baskerville! Down!” Virginia called out. The dog obediently dropped to his haunches and sat panting on the sidewalk. Virginia stepped past him to give Holmes a firm hug. “Welcome back, Mr. Holmes,” she said, her forehead on his shoulder. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”
“I’ll tell you one thing, Virginia,” said Holmes. “The oatmeal cookies in rehab don’t hold a candle to yours.”
Grey stared for a few moments at Holmes’s sleepwear and slippers. She waited patiently on the front step as he approached. “Glad to have you back,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve heard that we really need your help.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Holmes cryptically. He brushed past her and walked inside. Grey gave Marple a questioning look.
Marple shrugged. She watched as Poe pulled the GTO into the loading bay, then pushed a button to close its garage door after retrieving Holmes’s duffel bag from the trunk. Then he walked over to the detective. “I’ve been trying to reach you,” he said.
“I know,” she replied. She turned and walked inside. Virginia stepped back into the doorway and pulled a leather leash from a hook. She looked at Marple. “Sorry to run, Miss Marple,” she said. “I’ve got to take Baskerville for his walk. We’ll be back in half an hour.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Marple. “Go on home for the night.”
“Really?” asked Virginia. “I’m happy to come back and help Mr. Holmes get settled.”
“No,” said Marple. “Leave that to me.”
“Okay, then,” said Virginia, clipping the leash to Baskerville’s collar. “See you in the morning.”
When Marple walked inside, she saw Holmes in the kitchen and Poe halfway up the staircase with Holmes’s duffel bag over his shoulder. Grey was standing awkwardly in the entryway.
Marple felt the urge to say something.Congratulations. When are you due? Boy or girl?But she held back. Not the time. Not her place. Helene might not even know that Marple knew.