Holmes looked indecisively about the room. Aside from the standard constable here and there, there were a few peculiar characters that dotted the hall. Holmes looked excited, yet irresolute, as though he was pondering which one to approach first. After a brief moment of consideration, he seemed to decide upon his mark, and motioning for me to follow, proceeded towards the back end of the hallway. We proceeded at a determined pace, and finally came upon a stout, round man, with a head shaped somewhat like an egg. This man was dressed in an extremely unorthodox manner, although somehow strangely immaculate; he had dark hair, which retreated from his head, and green, sharp eyes, somewhat like a cat's. However, his most obvious feature was his pink-tipped nose, and his peculiar moustache, which pointed upward at both ends. Holmes stepped forward and without hesitation, addressed this odd fellow.
"Good evening," said Holmes, drawing the man's attention, "I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my associate Dr. Watson. Am I correct to assume that you are also investigating this mysterious case, Mr…?" His voice trailed off, leaving the man to fill in his name for our benefit.
"Poirot" came the man's response. "I am Hercule Poirot. And you, monsieur, are standing upon my patent-leather shoes."
"Oh my," said Holmes dryly; noting that he indeed was treading upon Poirot's feet. "Dreadfully sorry, I had barely noticed." He stepped back and extended a hand of apology to Poirot, who took it reluctantly.
"So, what do you think of the case?" I inquired.
"The case?" replied Poirot. "I do not know what to think. I am not, as you say, a typical detective. I follow no vague trail of clues. I work in different areas. And so far, I do not work with much. But fear not, I will apprehend this criminal somehow!" He spoke in what seemed to be rather haughty tones, but I glimpsed something in a glance of his that told me he knew more than he was letting on. We thanked him for his time, and began to head in a different direction, but I caught up with Holmes before he could go speeding off.
"Are we going to be greeting everyone we come across?" I asked impatiently. "Do we not have a criminal we should be searching out right now?"
"Watson," Holmes chided, "It pays just as much to know your allies as your enemies. And since we do not know our enemy just yet, it will do us very well to get to know our allies." I briefly considered that there might be wisdom somewhere in my companion's statement, but quickly returned to my questions.
"What could you have possibly weaned from trading a few sentences with that arrogant mountebank?" Asked I, in probably harsher terms than were required.
"See," began Holmes, letting out a sigh, "you already fall behind, Watson. That is no ordinary man." At this I was confused, and would have continued with my queries, had I not noticed that we now stood before an elderly lady. She had a kindly expression, was dressed head to toe in tweed, and sat on a station bench knitting what I assumed was a scarf. Holmes introduced the two of us, and extended his hand to the woman, who received it warmly. When I asked her name, a compassionate smile came over her face.
"Jane Marple," she replied. "But you can call me Miss Marple, dearie. Most everyone does. How goes the investigation, then? It's a very strange case, isn't it? When I was up there examining the body, I couldn't find anything that might point to a suspect." I was about to answer in the negative, when slowly the realization dawned on me. This aged woman was investigating the cadaver as well? I nearly gave a verbal expression of my shock, but luckily Holmes spoke in my place.
"Unfortunately not," said Holmes, " but I'm sure we'll find something sooner or later. Thank you for your time." Listening to him speak, I saw a brief look play across Miss Marple's wrinkled face. It was both a little devious, and a little competitive, but it was gone from her features as soon as it came. From there, he made a beeline across the hall to where two dark-haired men in trench coats stood, conversing with one another. As we came up to them, they hastily discontinued their conversation, and turned to meet us. Holmes had the honor of introducing us, and asking towards these two men's identities. The man on the left, who was slightly shorter than the other, stepped forward first.
"The name's Archie Goodwin" he declared. "I'm here on the behalf of my employer, Mr. Nero Wolfe. We, eh… look forward to workin' with you."
"That's interesting," I remarked. "Where is your employer, if I might ask?"
"He's not here…" came the reply. "Normally, I'm the one doin' the legwork." I gave the man an encouraging nod, before turning to the other. The yet unknown man was standing over by the wall, his hat pulled over his eyes. In my mind, I doubted whether the man was awake, or had fallen asleep while still standing, but Holmes addressed him directly and informally.
"Name's Sam Spade" said the man. "Private detective. I've seen some strange cases before. But never anything like this." And with that, he excused himself from our company to go look over the body once again. By now, we had met everyone, save for one man who was milling about around the ticket kiosks. Upon approaching him further, he came into view as a short man with dark, curly hair, wearing a crumpled raincoat. He had a slouched posture and was smoking a very potent cigar, which I could tell by Holmes' looks of displeasure was probably not very expensive. The man seemed to be more interested in the decorative touches on the ticket booths than the case, and so, Holmes cleared his throat to get his attention. Upon noticing our presence the man swiftly turned himself around.
"Oh, I'm very sorry sir," he began. "I didn't see you there, and I was just lookin' at these great arches here. Ya see, I'm not actually from New York. My name's Lieutenant Columbo; I'm with the Los Angeles police department, and normally I wouldn't leave the city for a case, but I got the call this mornin' and my wife, she said I should do it, so…" At this point he seemed notice that he was rambling, and he collected himself. He hurriedly extended his hand towards us, as if to make up for lost time. "I'm sorry. Where are my manners? I don't believe I caught your names." After a few introductions and another half-tale about the Lieutenant's wife, we excused ourselves as politely as possible. Columbo amiably waved us farewell, but Holmes' expression told me he didn't think very highly of the good detective.
After acquainting ourselves with the various present investigators, we moved to return to the side of Richard Winters. However, as we were walking towards the center of the room once more, the great clock chimed midnight, and an unnerving chill washed over the hall. I suddenly found myself feeling quite disturbed, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, and for no logical reason that I could discern. I peered about the room, and it seemed that the various officers of the law shared my sentiments. The gathered detectives, rather than appear afraid, had an air of anticipation about them, as if they were about to run a very difficult race. I would rather not say that I hid behind Holmes' back, but I did perform an action quite similar to that.
"It seems the last member our little cavalcade has arrived" said Holmes, turning to face me. However, I discerned that it was not me he was looking at, but rather, something or someone behind me. Almost too afraid to move, I somehow managed to slowly rotate my gaze until my eyes met a figure that I doubt I shall forget for a long time forward. There, roughly 30 yards behind me, crouched a man in a black cowl with points extending from the top, and a long black cape covering most of his body. This newcomer rose up from his position and came to stand, revealing that he was wearing some kind of high-impact suit with a symbol that looked frightfully like a bat emblazoned on the torso. He wore heavy boots and a belt with numerous pouches, as well as black gloves that appeared to have multiple utilities. His eyes were hidden beneath his mask, but something about beholding him instilled a sort of primal fear in me. Luckily, I was able to collect myself and master this irrational fear, long enough to pick myself up off the ground. The stranger moved forward towards Mr. Winters and spoke aloud in a deep, coarse voice.
"I just received the call," he said. "Got here as fast as I could. What's the situation?" Mr. Winters straightened his tie, brushed himself off, and looked directly at this Bat-man.
"It took you long enough" said Mr. Winters. "But I supposed better late than never. Alright, listen up everyone!" He addressed the room. "We're ready to start!"
