I was a mess - blood everywhere. My own, and Holmes'. Marianne helped me stagger down the street to my house. I stumbled inside to the bathroom, and I was embarrassingly sick into the bathtub. Marianne started running water, then got a washcloth and some peroxide from a shelf and cleaned the cuts on my arms and legs.
"Thanks," I breathed, resting my head against the cool marble wall. After a while I got myself under control and took a big drink from the sink, rinsing out my mouth.
I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve. My head was throbbing - but my blood was on fire. "Marianne," I said, firmly, "We have to figure out who is doing this. Tonight."
We walked into the kitchen, and sat down at the table.
"Okay, what do we know?" Marianne whispered.
I began checking off points on my fingers. "One - that it was two people, someone your father was familiar with. Two - they were most likely in the family. Three - um…" I thought back to the night of the murder. "Next to your father was a jeweled hairpin. It looked expensive, but I noticed that one of the jewels had been crazy-glued back into place, which means these people were once rich, and now they've fallen on hard times. Sound like anyone you know?"
Marianne furrowed her brow. "It does kinda sound like - Sara? What's this?" Marianne got up from the table and walked across the room to a picture hanging on the wall.
I got up and followed her. She was looking at a photograph from when I was in the third grade. My father and mother and I all smiled (me, showing off my brand-new braces) and around us dad's employees grinned and folded their hands on the table.
"Oh," I said, "Those are my father's business partners. There was a way back when I was little. See there's me, on my dad's lap, and that's my mom, and these are…" I thought back for names. "Arthur Josh, Maurine Gold, and Kent Harrison." I pointed them out in turn.
"Sara - " Marianne said, her throat dry. "That's my uncle Arty." She pointed to Arthur Josh. "And that's my aunt Maurine," she slid her finger across to Maurine Gold.
My heart began to pound, and I looked at Arthur Josh's folded hands. There was a long scar that ran from his thumb to his wrist. I gasped. "What-what Holmes said. It was 'photo,' not 'foe's toe.' He knew! He knew somehow!" I took a deep breath.
"I think I know how to stop this," I said, and grabbed the telephone. With shaky fingers I dialed a number I was starting to know very well.
"Yes, hello," I said. "Inspector Peterson, please."
This HAS to work, I thought desperately, my knees trembling. It was pitch black dark outside, but that was part of the plan. Slowly, then gaining confidence, I began to walk towards Marianne's house.
Just as we had expected, a two people pulled themselves out from the shadows and began to follow me. I broke into a run, then yelled as one of them threw himself at me. We toppled to the ground.
"You little bit-" he snarled.
"NOW!" I screamed.
The dark London street flashed into broad daylight as every single search light Scotland Yard owned exploded on. We were surrounded by a dozen squad cars and three dozen police men, all of whom raised a gun and cocked the barrel.
It was sooooooooooooooooooooo cool. Like something out of a bad spy movie. Before we had set this whole thing up, Raffi had come over and done my make up again. Now, he put a boom box on top of the nearest squad and pressed play. Faint strains of "Mission Impossible" echoed through the night, before an officer reached around and smacked the cd off.
But back to the important things - like the man and the woman standing over me. They were the older versions of the people in the picture - Arthur Josh and Maurine Gold.
"Hello," I said, grinning and pushing myself to a stand. "I'm sure these lovely people here are very interested to meet y - "
Arthur plunged his hand into his jacket and before anyone could move he put a gun to my head. I froze. Uh-oh.
"Nobody move!" he screamed, his voice hysterical. "I want all of these squads out of here by the time I count to - "
Something inside me snapped, and I ducked and hit his arm to the sky. The gun went off once - twice - and while I was still trying to get away he knocked me to my knees, put the gun to my neck and pulled the trigger.
He was out of bullets.
I fainted.
Somebody was waving smelling salts under my nose. I sneezed violently, opened my eyes, then slammed them shut against the blaring light. "Here now," Mr. Peterson said, "You're safe now, Ms. Watson." He helped me sit and handed me an open bottle of Poland Springs. I opened my eyes again and with trembling hands I gulped the water down, then surveyed the world from my seat on the cold pavement.
Arthur and Maurine were being driven away in the back of a squad car. Marianne and Raffi were standing over me, looking concerned. Mr. Peterson helped me stand, and I found myself face to face with my look alike.
"I can't believe it was Maurine and Arty, though," Marianne said, sniffling.
"What did you say?" I asked, suddenly alert.
"Maurine and Arty - I just can't believe - "
"Wait," I said. "Maurine and Arty. Why does that sound so familiar? Maurine, Arty…" I shook my head. "Oh well, never mind."
There was a moment of silence, and then Marianne stuck out her hand. I smiled, shook it, and then pulled her into a big hug.
Whizzzzzzzz-click. Raffi pulled the Polaroid out of the front of his camera. Our faces dropped and we pulled apart.
"You didn't," we said in unison.
"I did!" Raffi laughed. "You guys are Picture Perfect."
THE END.
Sort of.
"Thanks," I breathed, resting my head against the cool marble wall. After a while I got myself under control and took a big drink from the sink, rinsing out my mouth.
I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve. My head was throbbing - but my blood was on fire. "Marianne," I said, firmly, "We have to figure out who is doing this. Tonight."
We walked into the kitchen, and sat down at the table.
"Okay, what do we know?" Marianne whispered.
I began checking off points on my fingers. "One - that it was two people, someone your father was familiar with. Two - they were most likely in the family. Three - um…" I thought back to the night of the murder. "Next to your father was a jeweled hairpin. It looked expensive, but I noticed that one of the jewels had been crazy-glued back into place, which means these people were once rich, and now they've fallen on hard times. Sound like anyone you know?"
Marianne furrowed her brow. "It does kinda sound like - Sara? What's this?" Marianne got up from the table and walked across the room to a picture hanging on the wall.
I got up and followed her. She was looking at a photograph from when I was in the third grade. My father and mother and I all smiled (me, showing off my brand-new braces) and around us dad's employees grinned and folded their hands on the table.
"Oh," I said, "Those are my father's business partners. There was a way back when I was little. See there's me, on my dad's lap, and that's my mom, and these are…" I thought back for names. "Arthur Josh, Maurine Gold, and Kent Harrison." I pointed them out in turn.
"Sara - " Marianne said, her throat dry. "That's my uncle Arty." She pointed to Arthur Josh. "And that's my aunt Maurine," she slid her finger across to Maurine Gold.
My heart began to pound, and I looked at Arthur Josh's folded hands. There was a long scar that ran from his thumb to his wrist. I gasped. "What-what Holmes said. It was 'photo,' not 'foe's toe.' He knew! He knew somehow!" I took a deep breath.
"I think I know how to stop this," I said, and grabbed the telephone. With shaky fingers I dialed a number I was starting to know very well.
"Yes, hello," I said. "Inspector Peterson, please."
This HAS to work, I thought desperately, my knees trembling. It was pitch black dark outside, but that was part of the plan. Slowly, then gaining confidence, I began to walk towards Marianne's house.
Just as we had expected, a two people pulled themselves out from the shadows and began to follow me. I broke into a run, then yelled as one of them threw himself at me. We toppled to the ground.
"You little bit-" he snarled.
"NOW!" I screamed.
The dark London street flashed into broad daylight as every single search light Scotland Yard owned exploded on. We were surrounded by a dozen squad cars and three dozen police men, all of whom raised a gun and cocked the barrel.
It was sooooooooooooooooooooo cool. Like something out of a bad spy movie. Before we had set this whole thing up, Raffi had come over and done my make up again. Now, he put a boom box on top of the nearest squad and pressed play. Faint strains of "Mission Impossible" echoed through the night, before an officer reached around and smacked the cd off.
But back to the important things - like the man and the woman standing over me. They were the older versions of the people in the picture - Arthur Josh and Maurine Gold.
"Hello," I said, grinning and pushing myself to a stand. "I'm sure these lovely people here are very interested to meet y - "
Arthur plunged his hand into his jacket and before anyone could move he put a gun to my head. I froze. Uh-oh.
"Nobody move!" he screamed, his voice hysterical. "I want all of these squads out of here by the time I count to - "
Something inside me snapped, and I ducked and hit his arm to the sky. The gun went off once - twice - and while I was still trying to get away he knocked me to my knees, put the gun to my neck and pulled the trigger.
He was out of bullets.
I fainted.
Somebody was waving smelling salts under my nose. I sneezed violently, opened my eyes, then slammed them shut against the blaring light. "Here now," Mr. Peterson said, "You're safe now, Ms. Watson." He helped me sit and handed me an open bottle of Poland Springs. I opened my eyes again and with trembling hands I gulped the water down, then surveyed the world from my seat on the cold pavement.
Arthur and Maurine were being driven away in the back of a squad car. Marianne and Raffi were standing over me, looking concerned. Mr. Peterson helped me stand, and I found myself face to face with my look alike.
"I can't believe it was Maurine and Arty, though," Marianne said, sniffling.
"What did you say?" I asked, suddenly alert.
"Maurine and Arty - I just can't believe - "
"Wait," I said. "Maurine and Arty. Why does that sound so familiar? Maurine, Arty…" I shook my head. "Oh well, never mind."
There was a moment of silence, and then Marianne stuck out her hand. I smiled, shook it, and then pulled her into a big hug.
Whizzzzzzzz-click. Raffi pulled the Polaroid out of the front of his camera. Our faces dropped and we pulled apart.
"You didn't," we said in unison.
"I did!" Raffi laughed. "You guys are Picture Perfect."
THE END.
Sort of.