Read The Baker Street Jurors Online
Authors: Michael Robertson
The Baker Street Jurors (26 page)
“Still can't say,” said Nigel. “But at least I can listen to what you think of it now without concern.”
“You want to know what I think of it?”
“If you want to say,” said Nigel.
Bob shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. I'm not a betting man.”
Nigel went on into the Dorset House lobby. He checked in with Mr. Hendricks, who was ecstatic. “Told you,” said Hendricks.
“Yes, you did,” said Nigel. “But they still might lose, you know.”
Hendricks was immediately taken aback, and Nigel immediately wished he hadn't said it. It was cruel.
“But they won't,” he added.
Nigel took the lift up to the chambers. Lois was at her desk. “So now you're back,” she said.
“Yes. Any word from Reggie and Laura?”
“Reggie says they're taking another month.”
“Ah.”
“Which means the work is going to pile up around here. More court appearances than I can count. It seems to me we need another barrister in this chambers.”
Nigel paused at her desk, and considered it. He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “We'll see what can be done about that.”
Â
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER
At four in the morning at the McSweeney estate in Hampstead, the recently installed burglar alarm went off. Again.
In the master bedroom, Liam McSweeney woke, heard the ringing, and groaned. It was the fourth time this week. Every night, in fact, since the new system was installed. Always a false alarm.
He reached for the remote on the nightstand, found it, pressed itâbut the little light didn't change color, and the ringing continued. The housekeeper had gone home. The butler had gone home. This was because McSweeney had made changes in the staffing; after the most recent mistrialâand the eventual dismissal of chargesâhe no longer felt comfortable having someone in the house who might snoop into god knows what. Things were going well, and he wanted to keep it that way.
So now he would have to go downstairs and shut the bloody thing off himself.
He was going to have some harsh words with the alarm company. They had come recommended by the local constabulary. He would let the local constabulary know, too, what he thought of their recommendation.
He walked down the wide circular staircase. He went to the kitchen and turned on the light. Everything was fine, everything was quietâexcept for the ringing. He opened the cupboard where the control panel was installed, found the button, and pushed it.
The ringing stopped. The residual light from upstairs was glinting off something made of glass in the main hall. He paused.
The display cabinet was open. The display cabinet that held his cricket bat.
He'd had it cleaned, of course. And then he had put it back up. He'd told everyone that having it there did not remind him of his wife's unfortunate death at the hands of a burglar who was never caught; oh no. It reminded him of better times. And so he had put it back up. He had posed for a photo with it, his hand on the display case, looking back at the camera with an expression of both deep sorrow and a firm resolve to carry on.
And now the cabinet was open.
He took several steps toward itâand then he stopped, and stared, blinking, not quite comprehending, at the figure standing next to the case.
“You needn't have come,” said McSweeney. “It's just another false alarm, like all the others. I believe I made that clear when I called the station.”
“Yes,” said the police sergeant. “You did.”
Now McSweeney saw that the sergeant had the cricket bat. He had taken it from the case. He was holding it almost as though he were about to step up and take his turn on a cricket pitch.
“It was my fault,” said Sergeant Thackeray, very quietly. “I don't mean for the affair itself, although I take my share of that, too, of course. I mean the fact that you weren't convicted. If I had come forward when it countedâbefore it was too lateâand acknowledged that she was indeed having an affair, and that it was with meâperhaps you would have been convicted. Although as the defense said, it still would have been a job to show that you actually knew about it.”
McSweeney just stared, and the sergeant saw the surprise in his eyes.
“You didn't know it was me, did you? Clearly. But you did know about the affair. You found her letters. You read them. You burned them. And then you murdered her.”
The sergeant paused on that for a moment. Then he continued. “You murdered her, and to protect my own career, I kept my mouth shut and let you get away with it.”
The sergeant took a step closer to McSweeney, and said, “I've lived with that long enough. And so have you. I'll have to continue living with it. That will be my punishment.”
The sergeant took one more step.
“This will be yours.”
And then he swung the bat.
Â
A
LSO BY
M
ICHAEL
R
OBERTSON
Â
MICHAEL ROBERTSON
lives in Southern California. The previous books in this series,
The Baker Street Letters, The Brothers of Baker Street, The Baker Street Translation,
and
Moriarty Returns a Letter,
were also published by Minotaur and Thomas Dunne Books. You can sign up for email updates
here
.
Â
Thank you for buying this
St. Martin's Press ebook.
Â
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Â
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
Â
For email updates on the author, click
here
.
Â
Contents
Â
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.
THE BAKER STREET JURORS
. Copyright © 2016 by Michael Robertson. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein
Cover photographs: business envelope © Marilyn Volan / Shutterstock; envelope texture © Mega Pixel / Shutterstock; stamp © tuulijumala / Shutterstock; man by clock © Christie Goodwin / Arcangel Images
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Robertson, Michael, 1951â author.
Title: The Baker Street jurors: a Baker Street mystery / Michael Robertson.
Description: First edition.  |  New York: Minotaur Books, 2016.  |  Series: The Baker Street letters; 5  |  “A Thomas Dunne book.”
Identifiers: LCCN 2015050066Â |Â Â ISBN 9781250060068 (hardcover)Â Â |Â Â ISBN 9781466865273 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: 221B Baker Street (London, England: Imaginary place)âFiction.  |  LawyersâEnglandâLondonâFiction.  |  MurderâInvestigationâFiction.  |  Holmes, SherlockâFiction.  |  Letter writingâFiction.  |  BrothersâFiction.  |  BISAC: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / General.  |  GSAFD: Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3618.O31726 B347 2016Â Â |Â Â DDC 813/.6âdc23
LC record available at
http://lccn.loc.gov/2015050066
e-ISBN 9781466865273
Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at
[email protected]
.
First Edition: July 2016