The Three Locks by Bonnie MacBird (books for 8th graders .TXT) 📗

A Spot of Trouble

Outside, the rain had stopped, and it had washed the dense air clean. I saw Hadley down the street, walking quickly, the morning light highlighting his tan-coloured summer Mackintosh.

‘Mr Hadley!’ I shouted. My injured leg made running difficult.

He turned to see me limping after him.

‘Mr Holmes has asked for you, sir! Can you please come back with me?’

‘Dr Watson, I am sorely in need of a good breakfast. Perhaps you should join me. We can discuss bail for Mr Holmes.’

‘Leo Vitale has asked Father Lamb to hear his confession!’

Hadley pulled up short at this. ‘Well, that is interesting. Perhaps Vitale is ready to admit his guilt.’

‘Possibly. But please come now! Holmes fears a man may die in your custody!’

And had Hadley not responded as he did, that man might well have been Sherlock Holmes.

We raced back to the station to find chaos there. Apparently Holmes’s escape from his cell had just been noted, and Pickering was in a lather. Palmer and the red-haired young constable stood in the entry room. ‘Find him! Find him!’ Pickering shouted, strapping on his pistol.

If anyone could hide himself in this relatively small police station, it would be my friend.

The moment Pickering saw Hadley he rushed up to his superior. ‘Holmes has broken out again. He must have had help.’ He turned to me in a fury. ‘You!’ Pickering reached out and grabbed my wrist and was about to snap on handcuffs when Hadley stopped him.

‘Step away, Mr Pickering. I have had enough of your temper,’ said Hadley.

‘Temper, sir?’ cried Pickering. ‘That Holmes has made a mockery—’

‘Mr Pickering, you are on leave as of this moment. Finnegan and Palmer, follow me!’

I just caught a glimpse of Pickering’s gaping response as the four of us headed down the hallway.

‘Where is Leo Vitale being held?’ asked Hadley of his young officer.

‘We moved him to that cell out at the back when we took in the two drunks last night,’ replied Palmer as we raced down the hallway and into a courtyard.

We dashed into a ramshackle back building. It was a former stable, now a storage area, containing a lone cell at the far end. The barred door to the cell was ajar. We heard a desperate cry. ‘Help! Murder!’

It was Holmes’s voice!

The scene that greeted us there was something I never expected. Two struggling figures blocked the entrance.

It was Holmes locked in mortal combat with Father Lamb!

The priest had his hands wrapped around Holmes’s neck. The detective clawed at them, and then both lurched back from the doorway towards the centre of the cell, as Holmes managed to kick Lamb’s feet out from under him.

They crashed to the floor, revealing behind them Leo Vitale, hanging by the neck from a noose created from the sheet of his cot!

The noose was tied to a pipe in the ceiling. Vitale’s feet dangled and kicked six inches off the ground as he clawed desperately at it. He gagged and choked – the terrible sounds of a dying man.

‘Take him!’ Hadley directed his men to Holmes and Lamb. Palmer and Finnegan leaped into the fray as Hadley and I ran to the boy.

Hadley took Vitale’s legs and hoisted him up, taking the pressure off while I removed my pocketknife and slashed through the fabric. In a moment, we had him down and onto the cot, where I tore off the noose. The thin young man was white and still. I gently felt his neck to determine if the windpipe had been crushed.

Suddenly Vitale gagged and choked. We had managed to cut him down just in time.

‘We have him, sir,’ said Palmer, and we turned to see Finnegan and Palmer holding Holmes between them.

Lamb was nowhere to be seen.

‘Not him, you idiots, the priest!’ shouted Hadley.

They hesitated. ‘But—’ cried Finnegan.

‘After him, now!’ ordered the Inspector.

They released Holmes, who would have collapsed had I not caught him. I did so and sat him on the edge of the cot. Holmes rubbed his own throat and glanced over at Vitale, whose hands were across his heart as he continued to inhale big gasping breaths.

‘Vitale?’ Holmes rasped.

‘He will make it.’ I said.

Leo Vitale’s eyes opened part way and he took us in. ‘Thank you …’ he whispered, his voice ravaged.

‘Lamb strung you up there?’ Holmes asked.

‘Yes,’ murmured Vitale. ‘He is stronger than he looks.’

He must have been strong to have nearly bested Holmes, I thought. ‘Don’t try to talk, Mr Vitale,’ I said.

Holmes looked up at Hadley, who had been watching this exchange with deep interest.

The senior policeman, to his credit, did the decent thing and did it without hesitation. ‘I apologize, Mr Holmes. We will catch Lamb. You have the lead, sir.’

‘To your office, then,’ said Holmes. ‘I have a plan.’

‘Have blankets and food brought for Mr Holmes,’ I said.

Hadley spoke sharply to a deputy in the hall outside the room, and the fellow ran off to gather what was needed.

‘But I need a moment first,’ said Holmes. He reached over and pulled back the collar of the boy’s shirt. I presumed he was looking at the wounds from the noose, but I gasped when I saw a purple ink stain on Vitale’s neck.

‘Mr Vitale. You were in Buttons’ room the night of Dillie’s murder. You lied to me about that,’ said Holmes.

‘Yes … yes, I was, but …’ The boy’s eyes filled with tears.

‘Tell me what happened, and if you want to avoid the hangman, you will not lie to me again.’

‘I … I …’ the boy choked and coughed violently.

I took out my flask again and poured brandy down his throat. ‘He should not be speaking,’ I said.

‘Then I will speak,’ said Holmes. ‘Correct me if I am wrong, Mr Vitale. Fail to do so at your peril.’ He glanced up at Hadley, who nodded in the affirmative. ‘You were there because after arguing with Miss Wyndham outside the Cross and Anchor, you did not just ‘walk the streets for awhile’. No! Instead you followed her to the rectory.