"That was certainly strange," Mrs. Peel remarked as she climbed back into
the Bentley.
"Yes," Steed agreed. "I wonder why the elder Mr. Crane decided to move."
"Perhaps he was only staying there until his nephew could come. Or perhaps he thought that he would inherit the house but it was left to his nephew instead," Mrs. Peel pondered.
"Are you that close to your aunt's aunt," Steed jokingly inquired.
"Not at all," Mrs. Peel replied.
"I suggest we keep a close eye on these Cranes."
**************************************************************************** **********
Ding dong. The man got up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at the clock: 2:30. Why should anyone be visiting him at this late hour. Nevertheless he rose and began walking towards the door. Before he could reach it, the doorbell rang again.
"Wait one bloody minute, you-" The words died away in his mouth as the man looked out the door. A man was there, but his face was in shadows. "Oh. It's you. Well, come in." He stood back from the door, but the man made no move.
"I prefer to talk right here," He explained. "How did your testing go?"
"Perfectly," he began excitedly. "I've discovered that I can not only age people, but reverse the aging process, to the point where I can bring people back from the dead. Unfortunately, it only seems to work if the people have been dead for less than a year."
"You promised me that you would be able to bring my wife back."
"I'm sure it will only take a little more research."
The man in the shadows did not seem convinced. "May I see this 'weapon'?"
"Be careful," the other warned as he handed him the 'gun.' You point it at a person, pull the trigger, and bam, they're a pile of dust."
"Interesting." The gun was pointed at the man inside. "I don't tolerate failure, Mr. Harrison." He pulled the trigger. Mr. Harrison was reduced to a pile of bones. An evil laugh rang through the air.
**************************************************************************** **********
Mrs. Peel hadn't slept well the night before. Although she hadn't had her usual skeleton dream, she had dreamt that the young Mr. Crane had turned older and older, cackling at her all the while, and telling her that he was her beau. The phone rang, disrupting her thoughts.
"Mrs. Peel?"
"Has there been another murder?" Mrs. Peel was instantly awake, gripping the phone in her hand.
"Unfortunately, yes. Number six is a man named Mr. George Harrison. He was killed between midnight last night, when his landlady saw him, and six this morning when he didn't leave for work."
"Why don't you come over here? Unless there is something unusual about Mr. Harrison, I don't think there's any use in going to the crime scene."
"Mr. Harrison was a scientist. According to his notes, he was working on an aging device which would be able to bring people back to the dead, or age them quickly."
Mrs. Peel sat straight up. "Do you happen to have those notes on you?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. And, I should be at your flat in fifteen minutes."
Mrs. Peel paused. "Steed, where are you calling from?"
Steed smirked. "My car phone. Just had it installed yesterday." He hung up, leaving Mrs. Peel speechless.
**************************************************************************** **********
"Good morning, Mrs. Peel," Steed grimly greeted her. "I'm afraid our hypothesis is entirely wrong. George Harrison was thirty five years old. Our mastermind isn't sticking to minors any more."
Mrs. Peel sighed and leafed through the manilla envelopes Steed handed her. "Steed, these are very complicated mathematical figures. There are only about ten people in the world who understand these."
"And you're one of them, my dear?" Mrs. Peel nodded. "I knew I picked you as a partner for a reason." Mrs. Peel smiled absently. "So?"
"Well, from what I can make out, Mr. Harrison actually managed to make this machine."
"If he managed to make it, why wasn't the machine at his house?"
"Someone must have stolen it," Mrs. Peel replied. "I wonder if Mr. Harrison had a financial backer. Medical experiments like this are very expensive,"
Steed completed the sentence, "And Mr. Harrison wasn't independently wealthy."
AN: Yay!!! No more writer's block!!!!
"Yes," Steed agreed. "I wonder why the elder Mr. Crane decided to move."
"Perhaps he was only staying there until his nephew could come. Or perhaps he thought that he would inherit the house but it was left to his nephew instead," Mrs. Peel pondered.
"Are you that close to your aunt's aunt," Steed jokingly inquired.
"Not at all," Mrs. Peel replied.
"I suggest we keep a close eye on these Cranes."
**************************************************************************** **********
Ding dong. The man got up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at the clock: 2:30. Why should anyone be visiting him at this late hour. Nevertheless he rose and began walking towards the door. Before he could reach it, the doorbell rang again.
"Wait one bloody minute, you-" The words died away in his mouth as the man looked out the door. A man was there, but his face was in shadows. "Oh. It's you. Well, come in." He stood back from the door, but the man made no move.
"I prefer to talk right here," He explained. "How did your testing go?"
"Perfectly," he began excitedly. "I've discovered that I can not only age people, but reverse the aging process, to the point where I can bring people back from the dead. Unfortunately, it only seems to work if the people have been dead for less than a year."
"You promised me that you would be able to bring my wife back."
"I'm sure it will only take a little more research."
The man in the shadows did not seem convinced. "May I see this 'weapon'?"
"Be careful," the other warned as he handed him the 'gun.' You point it at a person, pull the trigger, and bam, they're a pile of dust."
"Interesting." The gun was pointed at the man inside. "I don't tolerate failure, Mr. Harrison." He pulled the trigger. Mr. Harrison was reduced to a pile of bones. An evil laugh rang through the air.
**************************************************************************** **********
Mrs. Peel hadn't slept well the night before. Although she hadn't had her usual skeleton dream, she had dreamt that the young Mr. Crane had turned older and older, cackling at her all the while, and telling her that he was her beau. The phone rang, disrupting her thoughts.
"Mrs. Peel?"
"Has there been another murder?" Mrs. Peel was instantly awake, gripping the phone in her hand.
"Unfortunately, yes. Number six is a man named Mr. George Harrison. He was killed between midnight last night, when his landlady saw him, and six this morning when he didn't leave for work."
"Why don't you come over here? Unless there is something unusual about Mr. Harrison, I don't think there's any use in going to the crime scene."
"Mr. Harrison was a scientist. According to his notes, he was working on an aging device which would be able to bring people back to the dead, or age them quickly."
Mrs. Peel sat straight up. "Do you happen to have those notes on you?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. And, I should be at your flat in fifteen minutes."
Mrs. Peel paused. "Steed, where are you calling from?"
Steed smirked. "My car phone. Just had it installed yesterday." He hung up, leaving Mrs. Peel speechless.
**************************************************************************** **********
"Good morning, Mrs. Peel," Steed grimly greeted her. "I'm afraid our hypothesis is entirely wrong. George Harrison was thirty five years old. Our mastermind isn't sticking to minors any more."
Mrs. Peel sighed and leafed through the manilla envelopes Steed handed her. "Steed, these are very complicated mathematical figures. There are only about ten people in the world who understand these."
"And you're one of them, my dear?" Mrs. Peel nodded. "I knew I picked you as a partner for a reason." Mrs. Peel smiled absently. "So?"
"Well, from what I can make out, Mr. Harrison actually managed to make this machine."
"If he managed to make it, why wasn't the machine at his house?"
"Someone must have stolen it," Mrs. Peel replied. "I wonder if Mr. Harrison had a financial backer. Medical experiments like this are very expensive,"
Steed completed the sentence, "And Mr. Harrison wasn't independently wealthy."
AN: Yay!!! No more writer's block!!!!
