Chapter 19

At the Yard, Sherlock leaned back and pressed his fingertips together under his chin as he sat there, thinking. "One thing has become apparent," he said. "The deaths of the Pitmans and the other families were not accidents. We'll need to check the police reports for confirmation, but the circumstances of their deaths make murder highly likely."

Lestrade nodded. "I can only agree."

Laying his hands on the table, Sherlock looked at Lestrade. "I begin to suspect that Hamish and Jean's car crash was no accident, either."

Greg grimaced. "You may be right, Sherlock, but we've got no way to prove that. The car's long gone, along with all the other evidence."

"No, but I can question the road traffic officer who was put in charge of the crash," Sherlock told him.

"If he's still around, we'll question him together." The D.I. rose to his feet. "Let's go back to my office, so we can ring the Chelmsford police department again."

Minutes later, they were sitting in Greg's office. The detective inspector turned on the speaker phone, picked up the receiver, and dialled the number. Seconds later, a voice spoke on the other end.

"I am Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade of Scotland Yard." Greg told the voice. "I am conducting an investigation that makes it necessary for me to learn the details about the deaths of Hamish and Jean Watson back in 1996. Can you tell me who the road traffic officer who was in charge of that investigation was?"

"Hold on." The line went on hold, and Lestrade and Sherlock waited for a few minutes. Finally, the voice came back on the line. "The investigation was conducted by Mick Peck, and he's still with the department. Do you wish to speak to him?"

"Yes, I would, please."

"Hold on. I'll see if he's in his office."

"Thank you."

The line went on hold again, until a different voice spoke. "Hello, this is Mick Peck. I understand you're ringing me from Scotland Yard."

"That's right. I'm Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade with the Metropolitan Police." Greg paused. "I'm in the process of conducting my own investigation, which has led me to the deaths of Hamish and Jean Watson. I've been told that they were killed in a car crash back in 1996, and I understand that you were in charge of investigating the crash."

"That's right."

"Well, anything you can tell me will be most helpful."

The officer on the other end of the line was silent for a moment, and then he said, "I'll be glad to, Detective Inspector, but you should know that even though I shared my findings with my superiors, they were dismissed."

Greg exchanged a frown with Sherlock. "I'm listening."

"First of all, Mr. Watson was discovered to be drunk while he'd been driving, which led my superiors to believe that his drunkenness caused the crash—hence, their dismissal of my findings. His blood alcohol percentage was point fourteen. But when the mechanic showed me what he'd found, I discovered evidence that led me to believe otherwise." A pause. "Still do, in fact."

"I see." Greg paused in his turn. "Go on."

"First, much of the brake fluid had leaked out of the car. And the mechanic discovered that the cable and a couple of the screws were loose."

Lestrade leaned back in his chair and exchanged a look with Sherlock. "I see," he said again. "That does sound suspicious." He frowned. "And your superiors dismissed the evidence you found?"

"I'm afraid they did." The officer sounded irritated. "If Mr. Watson had been sober at the time, they might have paid attention. But because alcohol was found in his bloodstream, they assumed that his drunk driving had killed them both, and closed the case."

Greg frowned again. "Do you still have your original report?"

"Yes, I do."

"Can you send it to me? Your reports, photos, whatever you still have from that investigation?"

"Be happy to." Another pause on the line. "Despite what my superiors thought, I never believed that his drunkenness was the cause of their deaths, since that car had been tampered with."

Greg paused. "Peck, if you would email me the evidence, I would greatly appreciate it."

"I'll do that, if you'll give me your email address."

Lestrade spoke his email address over the phone. At last, the officer cleared his throat. "Got it! I'll gather it together and email you the copies."

"Thank you, Officer Peck. I'll be waiting for your findings."

A pause. "Uh, Lestrade, if you don't mind my asking, what is this investigation you're conducting that's led you to me?"

Lestrade grimaced. "I'm trying to prevent a murder here in London. If, as you and I both suspect, Hamish and Jean Watson were murdered, I suspect this same murderer who's here in London may have murdered the Watsons in Chelmsford years ago. He's plotting to murder their surviving adult children now. In addition to protecting them from this murderer, it's imperative that I uncover as much evidence as possible, so that we'll have a case that will stand up in court. Your findings can only help us there."

"I quite understand. Well, let me know if I can help you there in any way."

"I will. Thank you."

The two men hung up, and Lestrade turned to Sherlock. "All we can do, now, is wait for the evidence he's going to send me." Sherlock nodded.

Minutes later, an email notification from Officer Peck appeared on the laptop screen that Greg had received an email; upon opening it, he discovered that Peck had included an attachment. Clicking on the attachment, Greg pulled up the document and clicked on the 'print' shortcut. The printer began to hum, and sheets of paper started sliding out onto the tray. As soon as the last sheet appeared in the tray, Lestrade rose to his feet and approached the printer. Picking up the sheaf of papers, he strode towards Sherlock as the latter stood up.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go to a conference room, so we can look over these together."

"All right." Sherlock accompanied the detective inspector out of his office and down the hall toward one of the conference rooms.

As soon as they were sitting side by side at the long table, they started reading the report and carefully examining the photos of the mangled car and of the bridge abutment that it had crashed into. "Look," Sherlock said, pressing his fingertip against the brake cable, slightly dropping down out of the car's chassis in the photo he was examining. "That didn't just happen by itself. Someone did this." He lifted his fingertip, and Greg peered down at what Sherlock had just touched. There was a small slice in the cable. "Only someone with a knife could have sliced this cable."

Grimacing, Lestrade shook his head. "I'm afraid you're right. And the report that Mick Peck sent us corroborates what's in these photos."

Sherlock leaned back in his chair. "I agree with Peck. This was no accident, and while Hamish Watson's drunkenness could have caused them to crash at some point on the road, it did not cause this crash. This car was tampered with before they got into it. And that means someone wanted them dead."

Leaning back in his turn, Lestrade nodded agreement. "I'm afraid, Sherlock, that this is all the evidence we will have to go on, so we'd better hope that a judge and jury will accept it," he said. "Any physical evidence is long since gone, so these photos and this report will have to suffice."

"True. Nevertheless, it's a much-needed break in the case. It might not be overwhelming evidence, but it is evidence."

"I agree." Lestrade nodded again and smiled. "And we will take any evidence we can get."

"We'd better email this info to my brother, Lestrade. It may be that with his resources, he can uncover more evidence that even I can find."

"I'll do that right now." Rising to his feet, Lestrade led the way back to his office, where he forwarded Peck's email to Mycroft's office while Sherlock sent his brother a text.

"Well…" Lestrade leaned against his desk. "We've done all we can for the moment, Sherlock, so I suggest we return to your flat and bring John up to date." Sherlock nodded, and they left the building and went out to Greg's car.

XXXXXXX

A/N: BesleyBean's brother-in-law, who is now retired, used to work as a road traffic officer; his name is Michael Peck. With her permission, I am using one of his nicknames for my fictional road traffic officer. Hopefully, the real Peck's superiors were better about taking his findings seriously than the fictional ones were in my story! =)

Thanks to BesleyBean for the tips she gave me about how a car could be tampered with!