Investigator - third rank in police.
After that, the lads gave us description of the man they had seen the night before. From there, we continued to walk to the police station. When the station was in sight, Holmes faced the trio who went behind us and said:
"You wait here. Come in after me and Dr. Watson walk out. Is it clear?"
The lads shrugged their shoulders, confused, but they seemed to accept his request. Holmes and I got closer to the station.
"You again?" It was Sergeant Blake who welcomed us as we arrived with his soar face.
"We haven't seen you for long time. I already missed you, I must say." Holmes stung him.
"Not just cocky, but a clown as well. I can't understand why the chief inspector admires you so much." His soar face seemed angry.
"We came here to talk with Edgar Parish again." I said as I thought it was better than letting Holmes make the Sergeant angrier.
"You sure are stubborn." Blake sighed "What this time? Did you find anything new?"
"You might say so. Will you let us in?" Holmes seemed impatient.
"Chief inspector Geary told me to let you in. So… I don't have much choice." He clicked his lounge.
Just as we entered, we saw the chief inspector.
"Blake, I'm sorry for all the problems I put you through today. You understand the situation, don't you? Now that Radcliff and Richards are gone and Swan is lying unconscious in hospital. If it's not enough, George is dead sick and Hope broke his limbs a week ago. We have a problem in manpower. But anyway, you can go now. I'll take for things from here. Donalds will be here soon to switch you." he said.
"Thank you. It was really tiring. I hardly got any sleep because of that brat." Sergeant Blake said angrily and left the station.
After Blake exited the station, the chief investigator turned to face us
"I'm sorry for his bad manner. I won't say he's calm usually, but in the last few days, we hardly have police officers available." He said in apologetic tone, and then asked "Have you come to Parish again?"
"Yes, we have. Can we talk to him?" Holmes asked.
"Well, right now, I don't have anyone who will be there with you. And as I said, the investigation room..."
"It's fine. The little lad won't hurt us. I can grantee it." Holmes said with confidence.
"Well, he really didn't do any trouble since he came here. But just to be on the safe side, you won't enter his cell."
"Very well. By the way, do you have the affidavit he wrote?" Holmes asked just as the chief inspector started to go away.
"We have affidavit, but not in his own handwriting. I haven't met a scuttler who knows to read and write." The chief inspector replied.
"Well, I'm pretty sure his case is different from the others. Can we can give him a paper for him the write his affidavit?"
"I'm embarrassed to say I have no idea where they are. Since I became the chief investigator, few things changed, it's one of them. But I'll search for it and hand it to you,"
And now, each of us went to his own way. We stood in front of Parish's cell. He looked at us.
"I thought it was the sergeant." Was all he said.
"Are you disappointed?" Holmes asked.
"Not at all. I'm pretty sure he hates me." Parish half smiled.
"Why do you think so?" It was my turn to ask. "If it's because he seems angry, he isn't nicer to other people."
"When he investigated me yesterday, he didn't stop to blame me. He tried to tell the story instead of me, step by step. No matter what I told him, he kept saying the same things. It was tiring for both of us." the lad sighed.
"He sure is stubborn. Anyway, he went home for now." I could hear in Holmes' voice he wasn't unpleased for Blake's absence. "May I ask you few questions, my lad?"
"Of course."
"When did you join The Tigers?"
"Two years ago."
"Why?" Holmes continued to ask.
"All my friends did. They all joined one sctullting gang or another, and most of them to this one,"
"Weird, when we asked your friends, they all said they joined at the age of 14. As much as I know, most lads join groups around this age. At 17 they start to think about retiring."
"Well, I…" Parish lost his composure
"Did someone threaten you?" Holmes kept pressing him.
"Just a madman..." Parish mumbled.
"What did he say to you?" I tried to say in the most soothing voice.
"He didn't say anything. We just bumped into each other. When I stood, he had a scary look on his face. I hit him and ran away." As he finished talking, he breathed in and out once as to calm himself down.
"Did you wear the necklace?" Holmes didn't seem much interested from him being uneasy.
"At the time, I wore it all the time, though the pendant was always under my shirt. No one suspected anything."
"So, did it go out of your shirt as you fell?"
"Yes."
"So that man noticed it?"
"Probably… Do you think he just wanted to take it?"
"I'm afraid people won't show a threatening expression when they only about to steal something." I remarked.
"As I thought…"
"Do you have any idea why?" I tried to ask in a calm voice before Holmes would ask in a harsh and threatening one.
"I know my father hides something from me. He doesn't tell me just my mother surname, he didn't tell me anything about their life before their marriage. Not when they met, not how." He seemed a bit nervous. "I also wondered why… Maybe it has anything to do with it?"
"But still, did you feel so threatened from one time meeting, that it made you joining a scuttling gang?" Holmes asked.
"Well, it happened more than once. I met him again in the same week, and the tried to do it again. A week later, it was someone else. The other man succeeded to catch me, but when he saw I didn't wear the necklace, he let me go." He sounded a bit panicked.
"And when you understood it's methodical, you decided to protect yourself, and even stop to wear the necklace."
"Except for yesterday. If I only remembered." Parish clenched his fists.
Just then, we heard footsteps. It was an inspector, in Blake's age. A smiler with auburn hair and gray eyes. He looked a bit suntanned and muscular. His shaved face seemed familiar.
"You are Harry's little brother, don't you? Wow, it's been ages. Do you remember me? It's me, Eric Donalds." He sounded pretty excited.
He was Harry's friend when he still learned in high school. When my brother broke ties with his friends, I guess Donalds was included.
"Yes, I do remember you." I answered indifferently.
"How is your brother doing?
"Fine." I didn't want to discuss it.
"I guess something is off, if you don't really wany to talk about it." Donalds said in apologetic tone. "Anyway, I heard you asked for affidavit paper, so I brought one."
Only then I noticed he held a paper and a pen in his hand. I saw Holmes watching him from the corner of his eye, he seemed interested. Donalds gave Parish the pen and paper and walked away. I was sure Holmes would say something, but he didn't say a word. Not to me, and not to Parish as he wrote his affidavit. Just as he finished it and gave it us, he opened his mouth.
"I see you are a left hand person." Was all he said.
"Well, true. Let me guess, this alone rises the chances for me to be the criminal." Parish said with sad face.
"I never said anything like this. It's true, it's easier to track left handed criminals, but in the end, their part of all criminals is not bigger than their part in population. I am aware of the stereotypes, but stereotypes are unfair and sometimes unjustified generalization. They aren't based on methodical deductions or anything."
"I wish the sergeant would think like you. But he said the murderer was left handed person."
"Did he see the body?" I asked
"Well, he was the first police officer to find Walker. It was on his shift."
"How sad he walked home already." Home sounded disappointed.
"I think the one who gave me the paper and pen saw it too. I'm pretty sure I saw his face yesterday when I was brought here."
"Thank you, we will ask him."
We left Parish, and searched for Donalds. We found him nowhere. We saw a young bright chestnut brown haired, police constable with green-brown eyes, around 25 years of age, pretty tall, fair skined, unshaved.
"Excuse me, did you see investigator Donalds?" I asked him.
"Sir Donalds? Something happened. Scuttlers again… Another skirmish… To think that the one we caught was from the few gangs who don't use knives." He sounded tired.
"They don't use knives?" Holmes asked.
"Yes, I'm not too proud of it, but my brother was the previous gang leader. He retired two years ago. Short time before, a newcomer came to his gang at the time when they used knives and refused to follow them in that matter. My brother, Mark, in one of skirmishes was almost stabbed in his back, but this guy stopped the knife and took the blow instead. Luckily, it was just his arm, but that's when my brother decided to quit. After that, the newcomer became the gang's leader and they stopped to use knives. Until yesterday, anyway…Mark says there's no way Edgar Parish did this, but… people change, don't they?"
"Did you see the body?" Holmes asked when he finished.
"Sorry, I was at home. You really better ask Donalds." He said and walked away.
"Well, it seems like we don't have anything more to do here. We better investigate somewhere else." Holmes said and both of us left the building.
