The Baker Street Translation (29 page)

First he had a letter to write. And before he could do that, he had to deal with Detective Inspector Wembley, who was sitting across from him in Reggie's office.

“I thought you might want to know,” said the inspector, “that we won't be asking the Crown Prosecution Service to press charges against you.”

It took a moment for Reggie to let that sink in. It had not been the first thing on his mind.

“Good to know,” said Reggie. “Charges regarding what, specifically?”

“You are an officer of the court, and you are expected to inform us when a crime has been committed. You did not tell us that Buxton had been kidnapped.”

“Oh,” said Reggie. “That.”

“It's a statutory duty, in fact, as I'm sure you know,” said Wembley. “Miss Rankin should have informed us, as well. And so should have Lord Buxton's security team. Technically, you could all be charged.”

“But you're cutting us all a break, then?”

“Yes,” said Wembley. “Under the circumstances.”

“It seems to me,” said Reggie, “that Lord Buxton should be charged with breaking and entering at Baker Street Chambers.”

“Well now, he didn't actually break in, though, did he? I believe he entered openly and was allowed up by the building's security guard, even though it was before hours.”

“He tampered with my mail,” said Reggie.

“Technically speaking, it was mail addressed to Sherlock Holmes. Do you really want to make a public issue of that?”

Reggie thought about that for a moment, and then said no.

“In any case,” said Wembley, “it wouldn't do for the Crown Prosecution Service to charge him with something like that at the moment, given the other action that's being planned for him.”

“Yes?” said Reggie hopefully. “And what is that?”

Wembley told him.

“Bloody hell,” said Reggie. “I slogged through a sewer, you know.”

Wembley shrugged. “Next time, try to do it in full view of the duke and his company. Anyway, rumor has it that you're going to get what you really wanted. Don't muck it up.”

Wembley stood now, but then he looked down at the desk, at the letter that Reggie had begun to write out in longhand.

“Who's that to?” he said.

“Mr. Liu has a granddaughter,” said Reggie. “And Mrs. Winslow asked me to send something to her. I'm just trying to figure out what to say about two people who were both trying to do the right thing, and then both died because of someone who wasn't.”

“Virtue is its own reward?” said Wembley.

“Most of the time,” said Reggie, “I guess it pretty much has to be.”

42

TWO MONTHS LATER

On a morning in early spring, Reggie Heath woke alone in his penthouse at Butler's Wharf.

He was running late. Fortunately, everything was already prepared. He even managed a cup of coffee before he got into his tux.

Now he stood at the west window and looked out over the Thames. He could see St. Paul's Cathedral easily from here. And he could also see the garish new sign that Robert Buxton had put up over his headquarters.

Reggie struggled with his tie as he looked out. That was unusual; he never had trouble with his tie.

The phone rang, and he picked up.

It was Laura. She said hello, and then she sighed. As though she were waiting for him to say something, Reggie thought. But then she spoke first.

“Don't be bitter,” she said.

“I'm not.”

“At least you were invited to the ceremony. That's something, isn't it?”

“Yes. It's something.”

“You're not jealous?”

“I think the word you mean is
envious
.”

“You're not envious, then?”

“Of course not. Neither one. It doesn't mean a thing to me. After all, who cares that it was me who defused the bomb?”

“Well. All right. I was just worried how you'd feel about it. Are you going to be on time?”

“Of course. Just tell me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“What sort of knot does one use when attending a knighting ceremony? I mean, I'm sure half of London will choke anyway when we all have to start saying ‘
Sir
Robert Buxton.' Is there a special kind of knot I can use to get started on that early?”

Laura laughed. “Just pick me up on time. And don't sweat in your new tux. You're going to need it again.”

A
LSO BY
M
ICHAEL
R
OBERTSON

The Brothers of Baker Street

The Baker Street Letters

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

MICHAEL ROBERTSON works for a large company with branches in the United States and England. The previous two books in this series,
The Baker Street Letters
and
The Brothers of Baker Street,
were also published by Minotaur/Thomas Dunne Books. He lives in Southern California.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS

An imprint of St. Martin's Publishing Group.

BAKER STREET TRANSLATION
. Copyright © 2013 by Michael Robertson. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.thomasdunnebooks.com

www.minotaurbooks.com

ISBN 978-1-250-01645-4 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-250-02255-4 (e-book)

First Edition: April 2013