A Question of Identity
“Do you see much of Lestrade?” asked Detective Chief Inspector Gregson while pouring himself more tea from the pot. “She threw him out you know, that pop star he was shacked up with. Don’t know why, papers just said they had a bust-up over something and she sent him packing. Can’t say I’m surprised, punching well above his weight there.”
“Did you come here for something specific Gregson or just to indulge in a little idle gossip?” Holmes asked impatiently.
It was no secret that Lestrade and Gregson had been professional rivals at Scotland Yard and there was no love lost between the two men. Gregson had been promoted to DCI since Lestrade’s departure and had come out of the ‘Sherlock Holmes scandal’ quite well. Lestrade had been made the scapegoat and though Gregson had used Holmes’ services himself on various occasions, once the scandal broke he blamed it on Lestrade, saying that he had been pressured into using Holmes on his advice. He had felt quite smug about shafting his rival and scoring a promotion, but finding out that said rival had gone on to get a top job in security and move in with a 29 year old pop-star, rather took the edge off things. He was now clearly gloating over his ex-colleague’s change of fortune.
“Well, obviously I’m not here in any sort of official capacity, I’m simply in the area and thought I’d catch up with an old acquaintance. It’s been a long time Holmes.”
Gregson settled back into the sofa nursing his mug of tea.
“Though,” he added wistfully, “I am involved with a rather perplexing case at the moment, something right up your street. I’d be happy to have a casual, non-official chat with you about it, if you are interested. And then if you had any opinions on the matter perhaps you could share them - off record, as it were...”
Holmes didn’t like indirectness. He was starting to find Gregson rather annoying and wished he hadn’t offered him that cup of tea. Thank goodness Watson hadn’t brought him a plate of biscuits too or they would never get rid of him, Holmes thought as Gregson eased even further into the cushions.
“Very well Gregson. Just get on with it and give me the details,” said Holmes, not even trying to hide his irritation.
“Great, well, here are the facts of the case. A 14 year old girl has gone missing. Miss Priya Kumari, lives with her mother and step-father in Birmingham. Her father lives here in London - that’s how we’ve got involved. He’s a surgeon at The Royal London Hospital. They divorced three years ago - he’s a practicing Muslim, very traditional. The mother, well, she’s more westernised, new husband is white-British. Things are pretty amicable between both parties for the sake of the daughter. She’s a good girl, never been in trouble. Very academic; wants to be a doctor like her father. Set off supposedly for school three days ago. No one’s seen her since. Tried all the usuals; friends, other family members, etcetera, but drawn a blank. Her mum found this note left on her pillow,” he handed Holmes a neatly handwritten letter on a folded sheet of note paper. It read simply - ‘Dear Mum, don’t worry about me. It’s just something I’ve got to sort out. Will be back very soon. Love you, Priya.’
Holmes held the paper up to the light and examined it carefully with his magnifying glass. “Ripped out from a spiral-bound jotter pad, one that’s well used judging by the condition of the paper. There is indentation from words written on other pages. Have forensics looked at this?”
“Yes. Only prints on there belonged to Priya and her mother. There was perfume too and a smudge of make-up. They didn’t pick up on the other writing though,” he added, with some embarrassment.
Holmes rolled his eyes but didn’t look exactly surprised.
“I have become rather an expert on identifying different brands of perfume. This one is expensive, not something you buy with pocket money. Internet - has anyone checked her computer, Facebook account etc?”
“No,” Gregson added. “Mother insists she’s not on social media. They only have one laptop in the house which they all share. We’ve checked it and there’s nothing on there of interest.”
“What about her phone? She had internet access through that perhaps?”
“She took it with her. Clothes are missing from her wardrobe, make-up, hair straighteners, toiletries and money from her savings tin.”
“Very well Gregson,” said Holmes in a rather self important manner, “I will help you - discreetly. I will start by talking to her mother, if you can arrange a meeting.”
“Great! Thank you. So, what do they say? The words from other pages? Do they give us a clue?”
“All in good time. My help, my rules.”
.......
Priya’s mother was visibly shaken by the disappearance of her only child. Watson’s wife was also very shaken by the news that her husband would be bunking off work to spend the day in Birmingham - just when she hoped he was starting to settle down. In reality, he was checking his phone every five minutes waiting for a call from Defonte, waiting for that life-changing phone call all would-be writers dream of. He was waiting to hear whether a major book deal was in the offing, one that would enable him to give up the day-job and begin his life as a professional, full-time writer. He could see it all now - the book signing tours, the posters in bookshop windows, the interviews in the press, maybe even the opportunity to travel. Though the first book hadn’t exactly reached these heights, surely being a twice published author would be a game-changer? Settling down was the last thing on his ambitious mind.
As a medical man, Watson couldn’t help but be concerned by how frail Priya’s mother looked. Her husband, on the other hand, was quite robust. He sat with a possessive arm around his wife and insisted on jumping in and answering Holmes’ questions himself.
“I’m sorry, but who did you say you was again? That copper said you might be able to help find her but you ain’t the police are you?” he asked in a Birmingham accent. “So what’s it got to do with you? Why should we tell you anything? I’ve only let you in ‘cus the missus insisted.”
Holmes ignored him and picked up a school photo in a frame.
“When was this taken?” he asked.
“About six months ago,” the mother replied quietly. “It’s not a very good school. Priya is so bright. That’s why I agreed to her moving in with her dad. Just for term-time, so that she could go to a top school in London. He was happy to pay and she passed all the entry exams.”
“When is she due to leave? Its October now, shouldn’t she have started in September?”
“She changed her mind - was all for it to begin with, really excited about going to a good school to improve her chances of studying medicine at university. It was heartbreaking for me but I just wanted what was best for her.”
“Well,” interjected the step-father angrily, “how you could think it was best for her to live with that strict, old fashioned man you once had the misfortune to marry, I’ll never know. She was fine here with us. Why did he have to start meddling? Fillin’ her head with all these silly ideas about posh schools. Ain’t nothing wrong with the schools around here. Didn’t do me no harm.”
“Mark didn’t think she should go. Her father, my ex husband, is very strict you see. Very traditional. Mark thinks he would have pushed her too hard with homework, exam results. I suppose he would have, but Priya and her father have always been so close. She didn’t mind all that, she loves her studies anyway. Or, she always did. They are both very academic.”
“So, why did she change her mind?” Watson asked, slowly piecing together the details in his mind, knowing that Holmes was probably several paces ahead by now.
“She saw sense,” grumbled Mark.
“Mark please, you’re not helping,” the mother urged, turning to Holmes with her tired eyes. “She began to have arguments with her father. She’s growing up and he finds it difficult to accept.”
“I don’t blame the kid. He’s too strict, always going on at her. Perhaps you should be questioning him instead. Or perhaps you should be out there looking for her not wasting time with stupid questions.”
With that final comment, Mark snatched the photo from Holmes’ hand and signalled for them to leave. Watson was more than happy to get out of there. There was something odd about the step-father’s manner, he seemed to be just as controlling as the ex husband he clearly despised.
.......
“Notice anything strange about the photo?” Holmes asked, as they sat on the train heading back to the capital.
“Holmes, why do you ask me these things when you know the answer will probably be a no?”
“I thought you might surprise me. Sometimes you do. Most of the time you don’t.”
“Thanks for that, full of praise as usual,” Watson added sarcastically. “If I wanted criticism, I’d spend the day with my wife.”
“Don’t be offended. It’s one of the things I admire about you Watson. Your predictability. I have enough surprises in my work, you give me something dependable. Something I can rely on. I give you an escape from the boredom of your work and by the sound’s of it, your marriage. You need surprises, I need a touch of normality. This thing, this friendship thing we have - it’s mutually beneficial.”
“That might actually be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. The only nice thing in fact. But you are wrong, my marriage isn’t boring. It’s fine. Just having a rough patch at the moment.”
“And you Watson, are a terrible liar.”
.......
Priya’s father’s house was very different to the home she shared with her mother and step-father. It was in a very desirable part of London, beautifully furnished. He was clearly a wealthy man. He quietly and politely answered all of Holmes’ questions, offered tea and some expensive biscuits which Watson found particularly pleasant. He admitted that he was strict in some of his ways but that he loved his daughter terribly. He broke down in tears as he described her to Holmes, a situation Holmes found very unsettling. He was never comfortable with displays of emotion but his soothing voice put Mr Kumari at his ease once more.
“All I want is for her to be found safe and well. If she wants to live with her mother then that is fine. If she wants to come here that is fine also, though it is now too late for her to start school and because next year would be her final GCSE year, the school will not take new pupils at such a late stage. Sadly she has missed her chance but all I want is for her to be ok. I do push her with her studies but only because I know she is capable and could have such a bright future. I don’t want her to be like that awful man my wife has married. He doesn’t even work. Priya’s mother works very hard in her job as a school secretary but earns little. He is always in and out of jobs. What example does that give Priya? I want her to get the best education, make something of her life. It is only because I love her so much.”
.......
Watson returned to work that afternoon and sat at his desk staring at his mobile phone, willing it to ring. He needed good news more than ever. Since returning from Birmingham he had thought often about the conversation with Holmes on the train. Is my marriage boring? And if it is, what on earth do I do about it?
.......
Priya’s school was a typical inner-city comprehensive - overcrowded and a bit run-down. Loud and rather intimidating children jostled along the packed corridor like a swarm of ants, big bags over their shoulders smacking into one another and causing regular foul-mouthed outbursts. Watson was very relieved that he hadn’t taken his wife’s advice and gone into teaching. She thought the profession had better prospects than his current job but looking at the mob in front of him, Watson thought that he would rather take his chances with the lawyers down in the fiery depths of ‘no-win-no-fee-hell’ than try to control this lot. He’d been bullied at school and had never forgotten how cruel children could be. Now he was just bullied at home.
“Why are we here?” he asked Holmes, “I thought Gregson and co had already spoken to Priya’s teachers?”
“They did. Come on, we’re not here to see the teachers. It’s time to engage with the mob.”
“Oh God, don’t tell me we need to talk to this lot. They’ll think we’re ancient and uncool. They won’t want to talk to us. And we might get stabbed.”
“Nothing like a bit of stereotyping. And speak for yourself; I still look quite youthful thanks to my fillers. Don’t worry, they’ll want to talk to us...” he reached into a hold-all and pulled out a video camera, microphone and various other bits of equipment. “Nothing like the lure of fame and celebrity to get a bunch of teenagers to cooperate.”
A smartly dressed woman had been fighting her way along the corridor towards them. Now she stood before them and warmly extended her hand.
“Mr Honeywell I presume?” she asked Holmes, “welcome to our school. I must say we are very excited about this. I’m Melanie Sampson, the headmistress. Hard to believe I know, but in my youth I fancied a pop career myself - was even in a band with a few friends.” She giggled flirtatiously as Holmes turned on his most charming smile, while still holding on to her hand.
“Not hard to believe at all, in fact, you have a face the camera would love. If you have the voice to match then, well, all I can say is that the pop world’s loss is clearly education’s gain,” Holmes cooed in a voice as sickly sweet as syrup. Watson cringed and wondered what on earth he had got involved in this time, and why Holmes didn’t warn him about these things beforehand. ‘Come to the school with me and take notes while I ask questions’ Holmes had said, and it sounded simple enough at the time, but Watson should have known that things were never that simple with Holmes. And if they were, he wouldn’t enjoy them half as much.
Melanie led them to a classroom at the end of the corridor. Inside, a group of eager teenagers jumped to their feet as they entered - a look of wonderment on their faces.
“Right everyone, this is Mr Honeywell and...” she paused to look at Watson, “sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Erm...” Watson hesitated, not sure what to say as he hadn’t been adequately prepped for whatever role it was he was expected to play.
“My videographer, Mr Watson,” Holmes quickly added.
“Mr Honeywell and Mr Watson are from CEX Records. As I explained to you in class, CEX saw a video of your dance group on Facebook and have come to talk to you about featuring in the next Angel’s music video. This is a very exciting opportunity, don’t forget that you are representing this school as well as yourselves, so please make our guests feel welcome.”
Five minutes later, they were alone with the star-struck youngsters. Holmes explained to them that he wanted to get a sense of their personalities and their lives; this would all be used to help shape the roles they would play in the pop video. He told them that he understood this was a difficult time for the group as one of their members, Priya Kumari, was currently missing. If they were to give him as much detail as they could about Priya too, he would ensure that she wasn’t left out of the opportunity once she returned.
You clever sod, Watson thought as he listened to his friend effortlessly lying in order to get information. He busied himself with setting up the camera on a tripod and distancing himself from proceedings.
Once the camera was set up and Watson figured out how it worked, he filmed the group as Holmes encouraged them to start talking about themselves, their friendship with each other and their lives. The group of six friends had come together over their love of dance. Inspired by acts on TV talent shows, they’d formed the dance troop in the hope of auditioning for the biggest TV talent show of them all - UK’s Got the Fame Factor. They explained how hard they practised and that the auditions were only a month away. Everyone was worried about Priya and whether she would make it back in time, but they were used to rehearsing without her because she often pulled out of rehearsals because she was studying. She was an ‘amazing’ dancer they all agreed, but was the shyest of the group and was happiest when they were just ‘mucking about’ together and not in front of an audience. Her dad was ‘well strict in-it’ and didn’t know she’d joined the group.
Holmes asked about their boyfriends, did they mind that the girls might become famous and go off to see the world? They all chatted away about boys who liked them, boys they were dating, boys they’d ‘shagged’ and boys they wanted to ‘shag’. “Did Priya have a boyfriend?” Holmes asked.
“There was this boy and he was like, oh my God Priya’s awesome but she was like, no way,” one of the young girls piped up. “He was hittin’ on her loads but she wouldn’t go out wiv’ him. He was gutted. She used to be all prim an’ that, but now she likes make-up an’ stuff but she ain’t had loads of boyfriends. So we was all dead shocked when this lad said she’d knocked him back cus she was seeing this other kid. We were like, no way, she’s never said nothing to us and it can’t be no one from this school cus we’d know about it. So then we started asking her and we thought maybe she’s made him up just to get rid of that lad but no, she confessed everything. Said she had a boyfriend but her dad would kill her and she didn’t want to say no more about it. Not from round here. Claims she met him on Facebook. Then we thought, oh my God, maybe it’s an arranged marriage. That dad of hers is makin’ her marry her cousin or something. In Pakistan or whatever. That’s why she can’t say nothing. We was thinking we should tell the police but didn’t want to get her into trouble if we was wrong - you get me?”
Holmes asked if she knew the boy’s name. “Nah,” the girl added, “not his full name. She just called him Tommy.”
.......
“How did we get away with that?” asked Watson, packing away the camera after Holmes ended the fake casting session and the teenagers noisily left the room. “Surely you can’t just turn up at a school pretending to be a record executive and they just fling open the doors unquestioningly?”
“Well, it didn’t happen quite like that. I pulled in a few favours from our favourite pop-star, Della Breton. She asked her record company to vouch for us and send through all the necessary paperwork a day in advance. They were happy to help when I explained that the safety of a vulnerable young girl was possibly at stake.”
“But what about that bunch of wannabes? They think you are going to turn them into stars. You’ve tricked them Holmes, and they are going to be really disappointed when they find out.”
“Oh Watson, you and your morals. Don’t fret about it. All the free backstage passes and VIP tickets Della’s going to send them will soften the blow.”
.......
“I didn’t know you were on Facebook?” Watson asked upon walking into the living room at 221b that evening and seeing his friend on the familiar social networking site.
“I’m not,” Holmes replied without looking up. “But my alter-ego Millie Smith is. She’s fourteen, likes boys, perfume, dance and goes to the same school as Priya Kumari.”
“You’re on facebook pretending to be a fourteen year old girl? Isn’t that a bit creepy?”
“Not if it helps me find Priya. Ah! Now then, we have progress.” He turned to Watson flashing a victorious smile. “She’s just accepted my friend request.”
.......
“Just thought you’d like to know,” said Gregson rather smugly. “We’ve taken the father in for questioning after a tip-off from the school. Some of Priya’s friends reported to their teacher that he might have been arranging a marriage for her abroad. A forced marriage. It would make sense I suppose, him being so religious. We checked his phone records; he’s been making lots of calls to Pakistan where his family are from. And then there’s her passport. We asked her mother if it was still at her home but she said the father had asked for it during the summer. Turns out he’d taken Priya over to the homeland during the summer holidays and had never returned the passport. Chances are he took her over there to meet a prospective match. That’s probably why she decided against moving in with him and why things had become so difficult between them.” He puffed out his chest in a self satisfied manner, waiting for praise from the one man least likely to ever give it.
“Brilliant Gregson,” said Holmes, “as usual your level of competence has revealed itself.”
“Well, yes, I am rather pleased with how things are progressing,” Gregson replied in a self-congratulatory tone. Watson simply sat back and waited for the cutting remarks which he could sense bubbling away beneath Holmes’ warm and sickly smile.
“No real evidence, just a bit of hearsay and a healthy dollop of racial stereotyping thrown in for good measure. Yes, well done Gregson - brilliant. Level of competence stuck around where it usually is - pretty low. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have some real investigating to be getting on with. I presume you have checked Priya’s Facebook account?”
Visibly stung by the comments but determined not to show it, Gregson inhaled deeply and stood to leave. “The mother said she wasn’t on social networking sites.”
“And a fourteen year old girl tells her mother everything? I used to have my frustrations with Lestrade but right now, I’m really starting to miss him. Goodnight Gregson, I will have information for you tomorrow but until then, do yourself a favour and let Mr Kumari go. You won’t find answers from him and you won’t be any closer to finding Priya.”
.......
“Just answer me one question,” asked Holmes, back in Birmingham at Priya’s home after explaining to her mother that Priya was using her Facebook account via her mobile phone, news which she found both reassuring and surprising in equal measure. “Did you buy her the phone?”
“Yes. Well, it was Mark really. She broke her old one and I said she would have to wait until Christmas but he said I was being too harsh. I’m not very up on technology so he chose it for her. One of those smart phones. I never even thought about whether she would have internet access. Oh I’ve been so stupid. To think my little girl had this whole other life on the internet and I had no idea. Do you think she met someone on there Mr Holmes? A boy? Is that where she is now?”
.......
The phone call came at the worst possible time. Watson was sitting at his desk after a dreary meeting with the dreadful lawyers. He was having one of those ‘where did it all go wrong’ moments and eating a massive chocolate muffin - which just made him feel even worse. When he saw Defonte’s name come up on his mobile, his heart started to race. Could this be it, the moment when everything changes and my life really starts?
“John-boy!” Defonte’s voice boomed, “how are you? Hope all is well in the land of legal aid? Anyway, look old boy, I need to come straight to the point. Just heard back from the publisher about your book deal - the one in which you talk about the whole ‘Kathy Rice marries gay footballer’ thing.”
Watson felt his stomach tighten into a knot. He felt suddenly rather sick and regretted the muffin more than ever. His hand start to shake and every fibre of his body tingled with anticipation, willing the next words to be what he’d waited so long to hear.
“So anyway, they’ve called up and its bad news old chum I’m afraid. It’s a no-goer. They don’t want to publish another book from you. Trouble is, Kathy Rice has been on every talk-show possible and already given all the details of what happened. And then there’s Rico Tandy’s wife, she’s been doing the rounds of the press and chat-shows as well - pouring her heart out about her cheating husband and how he’d been secretly batting for the other team, so to speak. Anyway, they’ve decided to offer her a book deal instead - pretty impressive sum in the offing as well. Thank God she chose me to represent her, wouldn’t have liked to have missed out on that. It’s like I said to you before, celebrity sells. Ordinary middle-aged doctors don’t I’m afraid. Sorry to be so blunt John old thing, but I can’t go on representing you. You’ve had your five minutes of fame with your first book and you should be happy with that, it’s more than most people get. All these people say ‘oh yes, I’ve got a book or two in me’ but they never do anything about it. You did, you got published and for a moment there it looked like you were going places. Give yourself a big old pat on the back for that. But I think it’s time to stop now John. Dreams are great things but we all have to wake up sometime. Take this as your wake-up call matey.”
Watson ended the call and sat in silence, a pile of claim forms in front of him, half a chocolate muffin and a note from one of the lawyers asking him if he could recommend something for his daughter’s warts. For the first time in his adult life, John Watson actually cried - which just made him feel like even more of a failure than he already did.
Just before Holmes left Priya’s house in Birmingham, he asked politely where he might find the bathroom. Priya’s mother directed him up the stairs and he made his way along the landing. As he passed the master bedroom, he noticed a packed holdall on the bed. He sneaked quietly into the room not realising that Mark was behind the door pulling clothes out of his wardrobe.
“What the hell?” he asked angrily as Holmes startled him.
“Going somewhere?”
“What business is it of yours?”
“None, unless you have something to hide?”
“I’ve got a few days work up north.”
“Manchester?”
“How do you know that?”
“The Manchester A to Z sticking out of your bag was a bit of a giveaway.”
Holmes sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Mark with a thoughtful expression.
“It’s convenient isn’t it, Priya having an internet boyfriend who isn’t local? She’s never even met him has she? An innocent, gullible young girl who thinks that just because someone writes all this stuff on Facebook about how much he loves her, understands her etcetera, it’s a genuine relationship. And because he’s not local, she can’t just turn up at his house or meet his friends to check.”
“I don’t know anything about that sort of stuff. I didn’t know about a boyfriend. She talks to her mom about things like that not me.”
“Except, it’s not genuine is it? And now that Priya’s false boyfriend has ended their false relationship, she’s gone off to try and find him, make him change his mind. A vulnerable young girl alone somewhere is trying to find a person who doesn’t even exist. And even a cruel manipulator like you feels a bit concerned for her. Not enough to tell the truth, but enough to go and look for her himself.”
Mark swiftly shut the bedroom door and wrung his hands in agitation.
“Alright, alright, keep your voice down,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you everything but please don’t tell the misses. You’re right, I’m going to look for her. She’ll be in Manchester somewhere. Oh God, what a mare. I didn’t know she’d decide to run away, this wasn’t meant to happen. Just thought she’d get over it. How can you be that broken hearted over someone you’ve never even met?”
.......
Holmes got the call at midnight to confirm that, after following his instructions, Gregson and his team had found Priya staying in a hotel in Manchester. She had paid in cash and used her Facebook boyfriend’s surname to check in - just as Holmes had suspected she would. With her make-up, perfect hair, expensive perfume and height, she had easily passed for someone eighteen.
She was taken to Scotland Yard for questioning and Gregson very reluctantly allowed Holmes to be present. Mainly because he didn’t have a clue how Holmes had figured out where she was. Let alone why.
Priya confirmed that she had gone to Manchester to find a boy she had met on Facebook who claimed to live there - Tommy Styles. She had been having a ‘relationship’ with Tommy for the past three months even though they had never met face-to-face. As far as she was concerned, they were boyfriend and girlfriend and it was love. When he told her it was over and ended all contact, she was determined to find him and make him change his mind. Knowing that her mother would disapprove and in fear of her father finding out, she had kept the relationship secret and knew they wouldn’t let her go to Manchester to find him. That’s why she had run away without telling anyone where she was going or why. She didn’t have an address for Tommy but she hoped that by hanging around the Trafford centre and other places he had mentioned, she might be able to track him down.
Holmes gently explained to the poor girl the cruel truth, a truth which he had suspected from when he first heard that she had met a boy on Facebook. He revealed the real identity of her internet love leaving her heartbroken and shocked. She asked to see her father and fortunately Gregson had followed Holmes’ advice and let him go the day before. He came to collect her and was overcome with relief at seeing his daughter safe and well. But, he could not forgive the police for the terrible accusations they had made against him. Little did he know that his daughter’s safe return was down to the work of an extraordinary amateur.
.......
“But I don’t understand,” said Watson the next morning after dashing round to 221b before work in response to a text from Holmes telling him Priya had been found. His head was pounding from the terrible hangover brought on by an excessive bout of drinking the night before, and from his wife screaming at him when he crawled in at 3am to ‘sort his life out’. “You need to start right at the beginning. Last time I spoke to you she was still missing. How did you know where to find her? Did you find out who Tommy was?”
“Consigned to the sofa last night?”
“How do you know that?”
“Creases made by the hard cushions on your face, the fact that you keep rubbing your old service injury which always plays up when your wife makes you sleep on the sofa and that fact that your breath stinks of alcohol - no one would want to share a bed with you smelling like that.”
“He dropped me, Defonte. There’s not going to be another book Holmes. So those fascinating abilities of yours won’t be shared with the world after all. And I won’t be a successful writer. Just a nobody. I knew my wife wouldn’t understand so I went out, got pissed and just sort of drifted home at stupid-o’clock. So yeah, you’re right. I slept on the couch. And I stink. Thanks for pointing it out. Any chance we can just talk about the case? I really don’t want to think about my crappy life for a moment longer.”
Holmes attempted to make a sympathetic face but it just didn’t come out right. He didn’t really know how to deal with this sort of thing. But he wasn’t cold to his friend’s suffering and managed a rather awkward squeeze of his shoulder, then offered him a cup of tea. Watson decided that he really must look in a dire state as it was the first time in all their years of friendship that Holmes had EVER offered to make him a cup of tea.
“It’s ok Holmes, really. Just tell me about Priya, I know you’re dying to. Start at the beginning though, because I can’t make head nor tail of the whole thing.”
Relieved at avoiding the tedious business of tea-making, Holmes sat in the tatty armchair which had come with the flat and looked as old as time itself, and began to explain everything.
“It was the photograph that gave me the first clue. Do you remember? The one at her mother’s house - a school photo. It was only six months old and yet she looked very young, fresh-faced. No makeup on, hair not straightened. All very natural. A mere six months later, she’s run away from home and left a note with make-up smudges on, perfume traces. And she’s taken hair straighteners with her. I looked at other pictures around the room, more recent ones. She’s wearing fashionable clothes, quite grown-up ones. So, why does a fourteen year old girl suddenly become image conscious? It had to be a boyfriend.”
“Is that why she was arguing with her father so much? I’m guessing he didn’t approve of her wearing make-up. Or boyfriends”
“Exactly. And that was the point of the whole sorry business.”
“I don’t follow...”
“That house they lived in, it was expensive for a family with just one income. It might not have been exactly tasteful inside but it was pretty well kitted out - big flat screen TV, range cooker, expensive music system. They were living quite well on just a school secretary’s wages. I got the father to give me details of how much maintenance money he pays each month for Priya, it’s a tidy sum. No wonder her step-father didn’t want Priya to move in with him. He would have stopped the payments if she was living under his roof. That was a lot of household income for the step-father to lose - he might even have to go and find a job of his own. He needed to find a way of stopping Priya from leaving home, of turning her against her father.”
“Oh my God, are you saying...”
“On the note she left, I noticed words which had come through from other pages in the notepad. I could make out the letters TS with a heart shape drawn around them. I also saw the letters FB and suspected this might be Facebook. Her friends helpfully confirmed that she had a boyfriend who she had met on the social network site - someone who rather conveniently didn’t live in the area. All this started to fit neatly into a theory that Mark had created a fake profile pretending to be a young boy and luring Priya into a relationship - one that would somehow prevent her from leaving home. I suspected she was using Facebook on her phone and set up a fake identity myself to try and get access to her wall. I knew I could only do this if we became Facebook friends. I messaged her saying I was a girl at her school who knew TS and had information for her. She accepted the request straight away and replied asking if I knew why he had broken up with her.
By flicking through the posts on her wall I could work out that she had been having an online relationship and his name was Tommy Styles.
Her mother confirmed that it was Mark who bought her the phone and Priya explained to the police that her step-father had introduced her to Facebook and helped her set up her own profile. He also bought her the expensive perfume, knowing her father would disapprove. ‘Tommy’ was fond of telling her how great she looked with make up on and encouraging her to disobey his strict rules. ‘Tommy’ also didn’t want her to move to London because he was eighteen and had won a place at Birmingham University to study medicine. He told her to stay in Birmingham because they could soon be together. Once she told her father she wouldn’t be moving in and lost her chance of ever studying for her GCSE’s at the London school, it was time for Mark to end the ‘relationship’. He broke off all contact and Tommy Styles disappeared forever, he had already served his purpose of keeping large monthly payments coming in to the household. That’s when Priya decided to take off to Manchester, the place he alleged to be from, and find him.”
Watson was shocked and lost for words, shocked by both Holmes’ skill in solving the case and the cruelty of the step father towards an impressionable young girl. His military service had taught him plenty about the dark side of human nature and his experiences with Holmes had furthered that lesson.
“How did you know she was in Manchester?”
“Figured it out thanks to a well placed A to Z and a confession from Mark.”
“But how did the police know where she was staying?”
“I knew she had taken money and her parents confirmed that she didn’t have any friends or relatives in the city, so she must be in a hotel. From her glamorous profile picture, I could tell she would pass for a young adult. I suggested to Gregson that he got his team to call all city centre hotels and find out if a Priya Styles was staying there. That’s how they found her.”
“Where is she now?”
“With her father. He telephoned me to thank me for my services. He was furious with the police for suspecting him of wrong-doing and is now livid that they didn’t even solve the case. I wouldn’t want to be in Gregson’s shoes right now. There’s an almighty official complaint heading his way. I don’t think he’ll be able to wriggle out of this one as easily as he did the last debacle. Priya’s father called the London school first thing this morning and explained the situation to them. They have decided to make an exception and allow Priya to start the term after all. Her dreams of studying medicine are back on track and her father accepts that he will have to loosen the reigns a little now that she is growing up. She’ll be fine. And if her mother has any sense she’ll leave that good-for-nothing she married. He has broken no laws so the police can’t do anything. She is the only one who can dish out any sort of punishment for his selfish actions.”
“Interestingly, that might not necessarily be true,” added Watson with a knowing smile. “I’ve been doing a little research myself. His surname is quite unusual - Birdwhistle. I knew I’d come across it somewhere before...Mark Birdwhistle. As you know, I work for a leading firm in the compensation business. We get claimants from all over the country choosing the firm because of all the TV advertising, posters etc. I checked the records and sure enough, a Mark Birdwhistle has got a claim going through at the moment. One of the other doctors had mentioned it because it was so obviously a scam but he was too afraid of his job to not sign off the forms.”
Holmes leaned forward in his chair, suddenly full of interest.
“So, I decided it was time to do the right thing for once - to hell with the bloody lawyers. I got into the records department, found the papers and destroyed the forms the doctor had signed after his assessment of Mark’s alleged injuries. I then filled out a new form giving him a clean bill of health. The case is being heard in the small claims court tomorrow. So long as no one notices until then, the court will see it and throw out his claim. He’ll lose about £20,000. And I’ll probably lose my job.”
“Oh Watson, sometimes choices just have to be made and consequences lived with. You and your morals...”
“Yeah I know. I think the consequences for this could go beyond the professional though. That marital ‘rough patch’ I mentioned is about to get a whole lot rougher...”
Also From Charlotte Anne Walters
Charlie Milverton - A Modern Sherlock Holmes Story
A modern re-working of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s classic Sherlock Holmes story, Charles Augustus Milverton. Instead of the Victorian world of debutants and stolen love letters, we have a fallen tabloid editor capitalising on the nation’s thirst for celebrity gossip and threatening to expose a young pop star for a dalliance caught on a security camera. On the advice of her security manager, ex Scotland Yard detective Gareth Lestrade, Milverton’s blackmail victim consults Sherlock Holmes. Irascible, difficult, eccentric but brilliant, Holmes brings the full weight of his intellect to bear on this new case despite the obstinacy of his opponent. And it all provides a very welcome distraction for his ex flat-mate John Watson.
The Premier Batchelor - A Modern Sherlock Holmes Story
The second adventure in a series of five which update original Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to our modern world. Based on The Noble Bachelor, this story provides a 21st century spin on the original scenario of an aristocratic man, his disappearing bride and an unsuitable love affair. Now we have a footballer, his missing glamour-model wife and secrets blown into the open thanks to Holmes’s brilliant reasoning.
Also From Charlotte Anne Walters
The Leaping Man - A Modern Sherlock Holmes Story
The third adventure in a series of five stories which update individual tales by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to our modern world. Based on The Creeping Man, a pop-star is plagued by an unusual stalker whose violent outbursts and strange jumping seem to hint at mental instability. She seeks the help of Sherlock Holmes to track him down and uncover his identity. Watson welcomes any distraction from his humdrum life of domesticity and his boring job, so enthusiastically offers to assist. As long as he makes it home in time for dinner.
Abbey Strange - A Modern Sherlock Holmes Story
The final story in a series of five adventures which re-work original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle into our modern world. The murder of an aged rock star is initially blamed on a gang of burglars, but Holmes senses that his widow is hiding something. What is the formidable music mogul not telling about the night her husband died at their Gothic country home? And how will Watson and Lestrade face up to the life-changing decisions they both decide to make? A re-working of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Adventure of the Abbey Grange.
Also from MX Publishing
Sherlock Holmes and
The Dead Boer At Scotney Castle
In ‘Sherlock Holmes and The Dead Boer at Scotney Castle’ the great consulting detective comes up against the rich and powerful Kipling League. Dr Watson recounts the extraordinary events which took place on a spacious early summer day in the Sussex and Kent countryside in 1904. None of the earlier stories chronicling the adventures of Sherlock Holmes compares to the strange circumstances which determined Watson to take up his pen to relate this extraordinary adventure against Holmes’ express wishes.
The Detective and The Woman
The Detective, The Woman and The Winking Tree
Two acclaimed novels featuring ‘The Woman’, Irene Adler teaming up with Sherlock Holmes
Links
MX Publishing are proud to support the Save Undershaw campaign - the campaign to save and restore Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s former home. Undershaw is where he brought Sherlock Holmes back to life, and should be preserved for future generations of Holmes fans.
Save Undershaw www.saveundershaw.com
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You can read more about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Undershaw in Alistair Duncan’s book (share of royalties to the Undershaw Preservation Trust) - An Entirely New Country and in the amazing compilation Sherlock’s Home - The Empty House (all royalties to the Trust).