I was seated at my desk one morning catching up on the messages sent by electronic means from my friends in Yorkshire (it was eee-by-gum mail) when the maid brought in a telegraph. I asked her to leave the newspaper on the chair and hasten out and bring in the telegram which I had heard arrive a moment before. In her haste and dyslexia, she had confused the two. “Have you couple of days to spare?” read the telegram “I have been asked by a detective from the Metropolitan Police, you recall Corner of the Yard, to investigate a most perplexing murder in Coventry, the automobile carriage centre of England.”
Having not been sent to Coventry before, well not since that most distressing incident in Prep school concerning the dreadful allegations about the school hamster and the butter, I packed a small bag into a larger bag and caught the 0850 from Liverpool Street Station. At 1015 I returned to Liverpool Street, after a most disconcerting time spent in Brentwood, a small village of no note, and travelled to Euston Station where I caught a further train to Coventry. I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived at the tiny, well kempt station in the Midlands, to note the small meticulously kept village of Coventry. As we swept down from the station in the pony and trap we passed by some of the finest examples of medieval and Tudor houses I had seen anywhere in my travels. Everywhere was neat and clean and the locals pleasant and welcoming. “Surely” I thought “a jewel in the crown of England and no one will permit this to ever change – it will be treasured for ever." I believe this still to be the case.
Holmes was waiting for me at the Inn. He was in a high state of agitation and it took me and the local constable some minutes to persuade him to climb down and join us. His eyes gleamed as he recounted the circumstances of the murder but he professed himself satisfied than he had already solved the case. Corner of the Yard, who had presently joined us from Mrs Godiva’s School for Young Madams where he had been pursuing complaints about some woman from Prague doing the waltz in a local hostelry, or “pole dancing” as it appears to be called locally, said loudly “I nivver fink you ‘av solved the case rite away as you was proceeding in a westerly direction, cor blimey let’s be avin you, it’s ten years in the clink for you m’lad.” (Corner’s father had indeed asked for a refund from the prestigious Swiss finishing school he’d attended – for twelve years.)
“Here are the facts” Holmes said. The “HR manager of the Godiva Rubber Parts for Gentlemen’s Horseless Carriages has been found dead in her office in one of the charming thatched houses that characterises the centre of the village of Coventry. She was surrounded by several hundred applications for jobs. There are two suspects, two people who were turned down for a job whose applications were very close matches to her requirements but were not shortlisted for an interview. The first suspect, Mr Jay Gue’ar was seen arriving on foot at 9am and then seen running out of the office 15 minutes later shouting “You’ve had my application for five weeks now and never got back to me. I’m off to Brown’s Lane to look for a big cat then you shan’t see me again this side of Candlemass.” The other suspect is Eleanor Purrjoe who claims she arrived by car half an hour later merely to hand deliver her job application to the HR manager.”
“But” I gasped, for I had been playing on the childrens’ swings and roundabouts all this time, “You say you know who done it.”
“Yes” said Holmes pressing the fingers of both hands together and staring down his aquiline nose at me and Corner of the Yard. “You see I asked Miss Purrjoe about her car and she told me that she had recently bought an expensive Japanese horseless carriage made in Asunderland. I knew it must be her as soon as she told me that.”
At that point the local constable brought in Miss Eleanor Purrjoe and stood her in front of us.
“You are the murderer” said Holmes “Book her Dano, I mean arrest her and she will get her just deserts at the next assizes.”
“You got me fair and square and no doubt about it.” she said in that delightful accent they have hereabouts “I shall plead guilty and do my time.” The constable led her off.
“Holmes you astound me, how did you deduce that?” I blurted out.
Holmes looked at me and smiled his thin smile.
“Ellie sent CV, by dear Datsun” said Holmes. “Now back to Baker Street on the next train or Mrs Hudson will be flinging our dinner from the window again.”
This has been a "too much time on my hands this week production" by Eyes on the Prize enterprises.
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