Master of Murder

Chapter 4

O Brother, Where Art Thou?

John inserted the CD into the drive of his laptop and closed the drawer. The activity light flickered as the operating system analyzed the disk format and located the file tables. Moments later a list of files popped up on the screen. "Looks like just a video file, " he said.

"Well, get on with it then," Sherlock admonished as he watched over John's shoulder. "Run the video."

John clicked on the file and adjusted the volume as the video started and a hand appeared on the screen, apparently adjusting the camera angle. The hand moved away and revealed a close-up of Penelope Master's face. Her ratty couch and a corner of the bed could be seen in the background.

Penelope cleared her throat and blinked her eyes then hesitatingly started to speak. "Um, I hope I'm just being silly making this video and it's really just my imagination. But," her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "I guess if you are watching this then something happened to me. I'm going to label the disk "Sherlock." If you're not my cousin Sherlock, please give this CD to him." She paused and stared at the camera for a second, then continued. "Sherlock, I don't know what happened…oh God; I hope I'm not dead. I've stumbled onto some things that look awfully suspicious. I'm not sure what it is, but your brother might be involved somehow. There's something going on with a lot of shipments in and out of some places in the Middle East with invoices and shipping papers and all sorts of other documents that are all wonky. Some of them are from Mycroft's office…" She sighed and stared at the camera for a moment. "I asked my boss about a few of the invoices a few days ago and he just brushed it off. But now I've started getting anonymous calls and spoofed e-mails threatening me; telling me to mind my own business. God help me, I'm scared shitless, Sherlock. I keep finding things that just don't look right. It could be some kind of terrorist, but I don't really know. I think Mycroft might be involved…or maybe my boss or someone else in my office. Hell, I don't know! If you get this video it means something's happened. I want you to figure out what the bloody hell is going on and who's behind it." She stopped again for a second and then said, "Thanks, Sherlock." With that, her hand reached toward the camera again and the video ended.

John clicked the video application closed and turned in his chair to look up at Sherlock who had been silent during the entire presentation. There was an intensely disturbed look on his face as he considered the implications of what he had just witnessed. "Intriguing possibility," he finally said. "Mycroft obviously has the connections and plenty of opportunities for what she was suspecting. I seriously doubt that my brother would engage in activities of that nature without good reason. Something else is in the wind here."

There was a knock on their door and Mrs. Hudson came into the room. "Someone to see you, Sherlock," she said as she entered the room with a diminutive, black-haired, twenty-something girl behind her. The girl stepped around the housekeeper and boldly walked across the room towards Sherlock. Her jet black hair matched her black sleeveless T-shirt and jeans. A tattooed ring of flames circled her left arm and her eyebrows were pierced with several silver studs. She stopped squarely in front of the detective. Twenty centimeters shorter than him, she looked up at his face. She was definitely invading his personal space. "You wanted to see me, Sherlock?" she asked with a commanding voice.

Sherlock involuntarily cocked his head but avoided stepping back. He was slightly perturbed by her closeness but tried not to show it. "Yes," he said as he reached in his pocket. "I have something I need you to take a look at." He pulled out the small devices that they had found in Penelope's apartment and placed them in her hand. "I suspect this one may be a keyloger, it was on a keyboard cable. The other one was on a monitor."

The girl looked at the devices over in her hand. She moved to a table lamp near the couch and held the objects under the light to see them more clearly. "Nice work," she said, poking and turning them over with her finger. "Very compact, maybe Government Issue, but not off-the-shelf stuff. This is bleeding edge. Maybe MI5 or 6. There's a PS/2 connection on this one," she pointed at the keyloger. "That's unusual because everything being made now is USB." She turned and looked up at Sherlock again. "You're probably correct about it being a keyloger, the other one might be a video transmitter. If that's the case, they're a lot more advanced than anything I've seen before. I'd need to run some diagnostics on them to be sure what you've got."

Sherlock nodded his head. "Go ahead and take them," he said. "Let me know what you find out."

"You got it," she said and glanced in John's direction. Noticing his Apple laptop, she sniffed lightly and frowned. "Stone knives and bearskins," she said under her breath and turned to leave.

Mrs. Hudson escorted her out of the room.

"And that was?" John inquired as Sherlock turned around.

"One of my many underground contacts," Sherlock murmured, folding his arms. "An extremely active hacker involved in a lot of things we probably don't want to know about. She doesn't like her name bandied about…she's paranoid about that."

"Part of the tinfoil hat brigade?" John joked.

"You might say that, yes; and with good reason."

—Ɵ—

Molly grabbed the page as soon as the printer finished and double checked the numbers. Yes, she was correct. There was an extremely elevated insulin level at the injection site. She picked up the phone and speed dialed Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.

"Lestrade," he answered.

"Insulin," said Molly. "Penelope Masters was given a massive dose of insulin aspart. She'd been dead for twelve hours or longer when the body came in, rigor had already passed. By that time the blood was starting to deteriorate and I missed seeing any problem with the blood sugar numbers. But there were still traces of it in the tissues at the injection site."

"How much insulin are we talking about, Molly?"

"I'm not exactly sure, but it was a lot. As a non-diabetic, her body would have handled an overdose that would easily kill a diabetic person. I'm not sure about the precise amount that would have been needed, but I'd guess a thousand units might do it, maybe two. That's why there were still traces in her arm. A thousand units would be a full vial."

"Did you find anything else?" Lestrade asked.

"There was some Phenergan, but not enough to kill her. It would have made her pretty drowsy though. I can do a vitrectomy if you like. The fluid in the eyes doesn't deteriorate as quickly as the blood, but I would probably come to the same conclusion."

"No, that won't be necessary. Thank you, Molly."

"I'll get my post mort paperwork finished up and fax a copy to your office within the hour," she said.

"Okay, that will be fine. I'll watch for it."

"Goodbye, Inspector." Molly hung up the receiver and picked up the post mortem report form for Penelope.

—Ɵ—

Sherlock's phone vibrated and played a few musical notes. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. "Hello, Anthea, what has happened to Mycroft?"

Sherlock obviously knew that she wouldn't be calling him unless Mycroft was unable to, but the detective's ability to pick up on details like that so quickly never ceased to amaze Anthea. "He's missing," she replied. "I sent a car to pick him up at the Diogenes Club but when the driver arrived he wasn't there. I ran a check of CCTV coverage of the area and another car picked him up a few minutes before ours arrived. The number plates on it were invalid."

"What about his phone? Have you checked its GPS coordinates?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"We found a homeless fellow with it a few blocks from the club. He says he found it in a gutter. We've tried to track the other car with CCTV, but it drove into an area with very poor coverage...we lost it. Something's up, Sherlock but I'm not sure what it is. Mycroft has been involved in some sort of personal business over the last few weeks and has been very secretive about it. This is not something he has shared with anyone, including myself. If word gets out that he is missing, heads will roll."

"And?" Sherlock prompted her.

Anthea paused for a moment. She didn't want to say what Sherlock eagerly wanted to hear. "I need to keep this as quiet as possible."

"And?" Sherlock repeated.

"And I need your help," she finally admitted.

Sherlock twirled around merrily and grinned at John then silently pumped his arm in a gesture of victory. "I would be delighted to assist you, Anthea," he calmly replied. "I will begin looking into this right away."

Ending the call, Sherlock mused, "O brother, where art thou?"

—Ɵ—

Author's Note: I have been advised by my lovely wife that I've been referring to Penelope's FLAT as an APARTMENT. While I acknowledge the error, to keep continuity I plan to continue referring to it in American jargon. I shall remember this distinction should I begin a new story at a later date.

Also, I've received a few more reviews, assuaging my fears for the moment. Thank you.

I am working on a way to involve Molly a bit more and get her out of the morgue. She is a popular character that folks like reading about. Also I have a tentative plan on how to explain the absence of Penelope's cat for the feline lovers, it may evolve into another plot twist; I'm not sure at this moment. As for Lestrade, his crew is working behind the scenes and will contribute at least one more twist to plot, but I don't think I'm going to get too involved with his machinations. Everything is still being roughed out, but I'll get us to a resolution of this mystery eventually.