The Mary Russell Companion (28 page)

WILLIAM MUDD INVESTIGATIONS

5 May (though only just)

Miss R, Sorry, haven’t seen Mr Holmes since Easter.  Neither has Granddad.  If you wish me to stir up an enquiry first thing in the morning, just say the word.

Billy (III)

PS. The wife sends her regards and says that you are to come to dinner soon, now that Billy-the-Fourth is now quite house-trained, or enough that there will be no more accidents onto visiting laps.

P.P.S. Were you aware that The Cracker is in Town?

6 May

Dear Dr Watson-Scopes,

I read of your honour recently, my heartiest congratulations. Your grandfather would burst his waistcoat buttons with pride.

I wonder if I might ask a favour of you? Six days ago (Friday) I dropped my husband at Kew expecting him to make his way to Sussex, only to discover on Tuesday that he did not. I have begun the usual enquiries at hospitals and through friends and associates, but with your medical network, might you also put out the word that an aged and no doubt querulous individual has gone missing? I shall be moving about a great deal, but messages at the Vicissitude or at your “Uncle” Mycroft’s old flat will reach me.

Mary Russell

Billy- No doubt he’ll be extremely cross when he finds out, but yes, I’d appreciate it if you would kindly spread the word that we’re looking for Holmes. A week without a word, at his age, is not to be taken lightly.

MR

PS. If I haven’t heard from him by tomorrow, I’ll get into touch with the current “M”. Who won’t be happy with me either, for different reasons.

PPS. I wrote to ask Watson’s granddaughter—another Dr Watson—to enquire after him amongst her medical colleagues, however I have since heard that she is away in New York for another week.

PPPS. Get word to The Cracker that if he does not scuttle back under his Glaswegian rock posthaste, he should expect a broken nose from the walking-stick of a 92 year-old woman. And if Holmes catches him first, the nose will be the least of it.

7 May 1992

Dear “M”,

I write for a reason unrelated to our most recent series of communications, namely, that my husband seems to have gone missing. Holmes was last seen a week ago, on the afternoon of the first, at Kew Gardens. Telephone calls to hospitals and police stations have led to nothing, and I spent much of yesterday at Kew with a photograph, but the only response was from one attendant who thought he recalled a tall old man talking with a sturdy blond man in his thirties—an individual who may even have had green eyes.

This ironic resemblance to Robert Goodman is so striking as to be
susp
unavoidable, but surely bears no significance apart from stirring up the recent conflict between us. I have no intention of removing the document related to Goodman from the memoirs I am sending to my American agent.

In any event, recent newspaper articles suggest that the government are already moving forward with the requisite public revelations.

If you receive news of Holmes, I would appreciate it if you would pass it on to me.

Yours,

MRH

Mary Russell Holmes

The Cracker’s scarpered, so quick he all but left his shoes behind.

I’m working to track back a rumour putting Mr Holmes in a shiny black car Friday tea-time crossing Westminster Bridge. Funnly enough, I’d just been working a case involving a lost kiddie near the same bridge—calling to mind the Goodman affair for about the third time in three days. If I was your husband, I’d be hunting for hidden meaning, but me? I’d say it’s coincidence. Just like coming across this postcard in the wife’s desk was a coincidence.

I’ll let you know if anything comes of the black-car rumour, so far it’s just a third-hand mention of a resemblance.

Bill

7th

Just to let you know, Billy, I’ve just posted a somewhat incendiary letter to the man currently heading Mycroft’s organisation.  (I was tempted to pile on the alphabet soup of my degrees and honours, but in the end chose dignity over delivering a kick to the poor fellow’s pride.  That his father was a barrow-boy may have been one of the reasons Mycroft picked him from the crowd.) And as fate would have it, my letter too brought to mind l’ffaire Goodman.  To say nothing of this stash of old postal cards, which for some reason are dominated by places from that case.

For a drop of insurance, I wanted to mention to you that I had riled the poor fellow, so that if I disappear from view along with Holmes, you should not only know where to look, but you would know to watch your back.

R.

8 May 1992

HM Treasury

Whitehall

Dear Mrs Holmes,

The ‘recent conflict between us,’ which you would present as a mild disagreement between individuals, has on the contrary developed into a major political consideration to the new government. As you no doubt saw in yesterday’s Times, the Prime Minister has been forced to address those ‘requisite public revelations’ at a time that will have severe repercussions. My own recommendation would have been to arrest the two of you, but Mr Major and
XXXXX
do not agree. Personally, I’d have thought your husband would care something for the life’s work of his own brother, but clearly his wife’s memoirs take precedence over matters of national security such as the history of certain
XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX.

M.

M.

Treasury building

SW1

8 May ’92

M—I have always believed in the freedom of certain kinds of information. Official protestations of embarrassment do not sway me, and have never swayed my husband. Threats even less. The Goodman manuscript goes to Ms King.

Perhaps you thought that your outpouring of bluster might distract me from noticing that you had failed to answer my question.

I repeat: Do you know where Holmes is?

Mary Russell Holmes