Sherlock Holmes and the Dance of the Tiger (42 page)

“Then why did he run?” persisted Prince George.

“Because the police would be forced to arrest him, it’s on the books.
 
But they won’t go after him, and they won’t report it to the papers – unless there is a leak,” muttered Henderson, the head of Scotland Yard, adding with a command as he turned to glance at Mirabella. “Don’t put that in your notes, girl.”

“The reading populace is . . . easily swayed,” considered Mycroft.
 
“All the opposing political side has to do is to slant the story and the populace is eager to believe it.”

“But shouldn’t Harting stay and face the music?” demanded Prince George.

“He certainly had motive to remove Miss Janvier,” considered Mycroft.
 
“Hers was a crime against Harting, against their friendship, against the French and Russian governments, and even against the Czar.
 
It is a betrayal against not only the French police but the czarist police.”

“And the Russian people,” agreed Sherlock.
 
“But Harting didn’t kill Miss Janvier and he had nothing to do with it.”

“Why then did you expose him, Mr. Holmes?” asked Bertillon, appearing to be curious.

“I have not exposed Harting to the press.
 
I merely stated the truth for our inner circle.
 
I do not see how I can be blamed for his dramatic exit.
 
I certainly did not ask Harting to leave.”
 
Sherlock appeared amused with the proceedings.

“ENOUGH!” exclaimed Chief Henderson.
 
“We have expostulated long enough.
 
Who killed Mademoiselle Joëlle Janvier?”

Sherlock turned to Prince George.
 
“Why don’t you tell us who killed her, your highness?”

“But it couldn’t have been Prince George,” interjected Watson.
 
“He left before I did.
 
And she was alive when I left.”

“True.”

“And you said it had to be someone who knew how to wield a whip,” Sir Edmund said.

“Yes, that limits the playing field, does it not?” agreed Sherlock.
 

“A whip?
 
Are you mad
?” exclaimed Lieutenant Dubuque.
 
“There were no rope marks on her neck!”

“But we know that she was killed by asphyxiation.
 
Meaning that she was strangled,” Sherlock reiterated.

Lieutenant Dubuque was almost red in the face.
 
“If there were no rope marks on her neck, how could she have been strangled?”

“Correction.
 
There were marks.
 
Small, round, uniform marks,” said Sherlock.
 
He turned to Mirabella, who was writing in the corner.
 
“What do you say, Miss Hudson?
 
Who killed Miss Janvier?”

“If it was a whipster, it had to be Miss Van Horn, Mr. Stanislav, myself, or you, Sherlock,” Mirabella said quietly.

“
Bon.”
 
Bertillon turned to Ashanti.
 
“For my money, I think it was Mademoiselle Van Horn, if those they are the parameters.
 
Of all the candidates, she had the most reason to hate Miss Janvier to my way of the thinking.”

Sherlock shook his head in disagreement.
 
“Look at Miss Van Horn, only now recovering from a terrible accident.
 
She still has slashes and bruises, though she has done her best to cover them.”
 
He added softly, “A tiger attack has saved her from suspicion.”

“With her injury, it is very unlikely that Miss Van Horn would have been able to kill another human being, particularly an athlete such as Miss Janvier,” Mycroft agreed, taking time away from pouring cream into his tea.
 
It was a wonder there was any left in the creamer to pour.
 
“The Russian spy would have put up a formidable fight.”

“And yet Mr. Afanasy had an alibi for the time of the murder,” considered Bertillon.
 
“And we do not seriously consider Mr. Holmes or his assistant.”

“There is one other it might have been, is there not Prince George?” Sherlock asked.
 
“Besides the four mentioned.”

“You’re a damn fool,” he muttered, and I’ll have you court-martialed when we go back to England.”

“Very unlikely,” remarked Mycroft, taking a sip of tea and appearing quite blissful.

Mirabella covered her mouth with her hand as the realization hit her.
 
“
Mr.
Kazimir
.”

Sherlock smiled, turning to admire the huge Cossack.
 
“Yes, Prince George’s bodyguard – and a defender of the Czar.
 
Kazimir had two reasons to want Miss Janvier dead and it was his duty to kill her on both counts: she was a threat to the Czar and she was a threat to Prince George.”

All eyes turned to look at the Cossack bodyguard, whose fierce expression did not waver.

“No!” Prince George exclaimed, jumping from his chair.
 
“Kazimir wouldn’t!
 
He is the most loyal guard I’ve ever had.”

“Precisely,” murmured Mycroft.

The Cossack appeared indifferent to the proceedings, not making the slightest move to jump out the window, Mirabella observed.

“It was the Russian—the man who loved her,” Prince George exclaimed.
 
“Jealousy.
 
A crime of passion.”

“And kill his own baby?”

“But he didn’t know.
 
That was evident,” objected Bertillon.

“Yes, but Miss Janvier knew.
 
And she would have told him to protect her own life,” surmised Mycroft, dipping another cookie in his tea.

“Kazimir told us himself that Miss Janvier was alive when Mr. Afanasy left the courtyard and that he himself lingered in the courtyard after Mr. Afanasy—after everyone had left, in fact.”

“You’re a damn liar!” sputtered Prince George.
 
“What does the courtyard have to do with it?
 
He wasn’t in her room.
 
How did he do it?”

“I was fortunate to have been in contact with the Chinese Embassy not so very long ago when working on a case,” began Holmes, standing to move towards Kazimir.
 
“While I was there I took advantage of the situation to learn some of the eastern martial arts, generally not shared with Westerners.
 
I found much to be remarkable, but, being a bit of a whipster myself, one of the arts I found of particular interest.”

“And that would be?” asked Sir Edmund Henderson.
 

“The Chinese have a silk sash,” Sherlock began, turning again towards those seated, “which has weights sewn into it but appears to be a decorative piece of apparel when worn.
 
It can be slung precisely like a whip.”

“I fail to see how that explains the closed window,” stated Lieutenant Dubuque.

“It is elementary, my dear fellow,” Sherlock said.
 
“Miss Janvier leaned out the window.
 
The silk sash was thrown and wrapped around her throat, strangling her.
 
Silk does not leave a mark.
 
But the coins do.
 
When she fell backwards, the rope was retracted.
 
Her flailing body grabbed the window, closing it shut from the inside.
 
The door was already locked from the inside.”

“But why does that implicate my man?” demanded Prince George, “even if there were a grain of sense in that?”

“Your highness, there are only a handful of men in the world who could have executed that maneuver,” murmured Sherlock with obvious admiration.

“Don’t mean it was my man,” proclaimed Prince George, admirably coming to the defense of his companion despite the possibility that the Cossack may have killed his lady bird.

“I don’t know that even I could have done it.
 
Miss Belle might have been able to do it if she could but apply herself, so unlikely.
 
Miss Van Horn, though skilled, does not favor using the whip on animals and therefore does not practice much with it, she will tell you so herself.
 
Her strengths are more in acrobatics and animal training.
 
She is not motivated enough in using the whip to have learnt to that degree.”

“Still don’t prove it was my man!” exclaimed Prince George.

“In protecting the Russian borders, one of the borders of particular interest to the Czar is the Mongolian border.
 
And who lives in Mongolia?
 
The Chinese.
 
Cossacks protecting the border have some contact with the Chinese.”

Sherlock moved to Kazimir and held out his hand.
 
The warrior looked at Prince George, who nodded.

The Russian removed the red silk scarf from his waist, wrapped several times around his waist until it became evident it was some twenty-four feet long.
 
Clank!
 
As the bodyguard handed the silk scarf to Holmes the sound of metal rubbing together was heard.
 

Sherlock examined the silk scarf with gold coins attached until he found a spot where the gold coin was missing, holding the scarf up for all to see.
 

The Great Detective then pulled a gold coin out of his pocket, the coin which had been found at the scene of the murder.
 

It was a perfect match to the coins on the scarf.

“Brilliant work, Monsieur Holmes,” Dubuque smiled warmly, kissing both of Sherlock’s cheeks, despite Sherlock’s hesitancy.
 
“How can I ever thank you for solving ze case,
mon amie
?”

“Well there is one thing I would very much like,” replied Sherlock with some degree of formality.

“
Bon!
 
Perhaps it can be arranged,
non
?”

Sherlock whispered into the lieutenant’s ear, who appeared startled at first and then smiled.
 
He bowed to Sherlock before exiting, stating, “It is against the law, this.
 
But I will do my best.”

“Well, the case is closed.”
 
John Watson expressed intense relief as the chains were removed from his hands.
 
He walked over to Sherlock and there was a bit of a stench from his proximity.

“KPOW!”
 
Watson punched Sherlock in the jaw, adding softly.
 
“All’s well that ends well.”

“Dr. Watson, how could you?” exclaimed Mirabella.

“I do apologize, Miss Mirabella,” Watson replied.
 
“I shouldn’t have done that with ladies present.”

Sherlock rubbed his jaw.
 
“I can see that your prison stay has not affected your strength, old boy.”

“I should say it has increased it, Holmes.”

“Very good.
 
Glad to hear it.”
 
Sherlock began moving his jaw back and forth, relieved to learn that it was not broken.
 
“And would you like to join Mycroft and myself for drinks before dinner, Watson?”

“Indeed I would.
 
If I might freshen up in the hotel room first?” Watson asked politely.
 
“I’m in dire need of a bath and shave.”

“Of course, my fine fellow,” Sherlock replied, thinking that he might need a sherry sooner rather than later as the throbbing pain began to set in.

“Mr. Holmes, do you need a doctor?” Mirabella insisted.

“Nothing of the sort,” Watson replied.
 
“I am a doctor.”

“You don’t seem to be in the business of healing today, Dr. Watson,” Mirabella murmured.

“To the contrary,” replied Watson.
 
“I’m feeling better already.”

“Mr. Kazimir won’t be prosecuted?” Mirabella asked.

Mycroft laughed.
 
“Not a chance. Diplomatic immunity, don’t you know.”

“He’ll probably receive the highest honor from the Czar,” muttered Sherlock.

“So Miss Janvier’s death will go unpunished,” Mirabella whispered, biting her lip.

“Miss Janvier’s greed and her inability to know right from wrong caught up with her,” stated Sherlock.
 
“It was only a matter of time.”

“The Cossack, on the other hand, saw everything in black and white terms.
 
He knew where his duty lay, and he responded courageously without regard for the consequences to his person.” Mycroft shrugged, adding under his breath, “Perhaps it was done for the best.
 
She was a loose cannon
.”

Mirabella stared at the two Holmes brothers.
 
“How can you both be so laissez faire?
 
You are defenders of the law.”

“I solved the case,” muttered Sherlock, taking his pipe out of his pocket and beginning to fill it with tobacco.
 
“It is up to the law to take over now.
 
The government.
 
That is Sir Edmund Henderson’s position and I leave it to him.
 
I assure you that my hands are tied.”

“Hmph!
 
I see how it is!” exclaimed Mirabella, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
 
“If there is a woman who has power over men, you will not come to her defense.”

“Not at all, Miss Belle!” chuckled Sherlock, lighting his pipe, a smile forming on his lips.
 
“Such a thing is delightful.”
 

“We care very much that justice was done.” Mycroft frowned.
 
“But making the Cossack accountable has nothing to do with justice.
 
In this situation, justice will never be done.”

“Whatever do you mean, Mr. Holmes?” Mirabella asked.

“The Russian monarchy is focused on suppressing the anti-czarist movement,” Mycroft replied.
 
“They should, instead, be focused on providing a more democratic society—then there would be no need for an anti-czarist movement and no opening for such an unscrupulous person as Miss Joëlle Janvier.
 
In attempting to squelch the people’s movement, they may create a more extreme government than would otherwise occur.”