The Case Is Solved…Again
As soon as Dr. Dawson and Mrs. Stafford had carried their brother to the guestroom, they returned to the living room.
"I'm going up to see the Queen of Crime," Mrs. Stafford whispered.
"First you're going to sit down and let me have a look at your wound," the doctor argued.
"Thank you, David, but that won't be necessary."
"I'll be the judge of that."
"We can't argue, not even in a whisper. I don't want to wake the rest of the household."
"Then why don't you have a seat and allow me to care for you so this will all be over before anyone's rest is disturbed by our conversation?"
"Where did you learn to be so stubborn?"
"I believe I learned my obstinacy from my older sister."
"You're only winning because I'm allowing you to do so." There was a pause, followed by, "See? I told you it was nothing serious."
"Not too serious at all," the doctor agreed. "You won't even need any sutures."
"What are you doing now?" Mrs. Stafford demanded.
"I'm going to clean the wound."
"No, you're not!"
At this, I tiptoed out of my room, toward the living room. I wanted to see if Dr. Dawson really harmed the afflicted, and if so, how much damage he caused.
Mrs. Stafford was sitting comfortably in my uncle's favorite chair. My uncle's associate was rummaging through his black bag of torture devices. He pulled out a small container of some sort of liquid and poured a little onto a cloth.
"This won't take any longer than a few seconds," he promised.
"This is a problem," Mrs. Stafford remarked.
"How so?"
"Any time a doctor reassures you that something will only take a few seconds, or worse that something will 'be over in a minute,' you know it's going to hurt like you wouldn't believe."
"It shouldn't be that bad. If you're feeling a bit nervous, try…"
"Taking a deep breath and shutting my eyes?" She nearly smirked. "I've heard that one before."
Dr. Dawson sighed. "I honestly don't like doing this to patients. I'd rather everyone just remained well and had no need for my services. However, I'm afraid this has to be done. If it isn't, you risk having the wound become infected, and then it will be exceedingly more painful."
"A-alright." Mrs. Stafford gripped the arms of the chair tightly, trying to keep her own arm still, even though her hands were trembling.
To my astonishment, the doctor actually tended her wound as quickly and carefully as possible, trying to comfort his sister as he worked, but the pain must have been dreadful. She flinched and tried to pull away, making strange noises as she gasped sharply and exhaled through clenched teeth. She even begged for mercy.
"The worst is over," Dr. Dawson informed her as he began bandaging the injury.
"Did I disappoint you?" Mrs. Stafford asked nonchalantly.
"What do you mean, Lenora?"
"I know you doctors can't stand cooperative patients," she explained. "You just love watching them squirm and hearing their screams of agony. You just hate when a patient keeps still and remains quiet. To be honest with you, David, I thought this whole time that you were such a skillful physician that I'd barely even notice when you cleaned my wound, and I was right. However, I didn't want to disappoint you; I wanted to give you the trouble that you've come to expect from your patients. How'd I do?"
Dr. Dawson didn't answer. After he finished helping her, he crossed the room and began beating his head against the wall.
"That's not very healthy, Doctor," Mrs. Stafford chided.
My uncle's associate seemed relieved when Simon woke up the following morning. (I guess he didn't die, but he came rather close.) However, Simon was confused about where he was and how he had come to be there. The last memory he had was being at Mrs. Stafford's home, waiting for her to get help.
"Do you want to tell us who shot you?" Dr. Dawson asked.
"Brandy and Sherry from the banks of the Thames," Simon answered. "They came into my bank and robbed it while I was waiting in line for a teller. They're trying to get rid of the Dawson family because they want you to die."
"For what reason?!"
"You're Basil's friend. Basil's world ended when he lost his only friend years ago. He would be unable to bear it if he lost the only friend he has now."
Before Simon had a chance to explain anything else, there was a knock at the door, and the Queen of Crime pushed two mice through it. They were both dressed like Ginger, and they spoke with American accents.
"It's Brandy and Sherry!" exclaimed Simon. "Are they using Basil's guest as a scapegoat?!"
"These are the two rogues who pickpocketed me!" Mrs. Stafford interjected.
One of the suspects sighed. "That blasted cat! Who does she think she is?!"
"She thinks she is the Queen of Crime," Dr. Dawson explained, "and she's never failed to find a villain yet!"
My uncle quickly solved the remainder of the case. These two were Englishmen who had dressed like American women in order to fool Mouseland Yard into eliminating them as suspects. When an American gun show had come to London, they had found the perfect opportunity to commit several felonies because there was no shortage of innocent mice who would be blamed. They had intended to kill the Dawson siblings, using their funerals as a way to find the doctor so they could murder him in order to cause great distress for my uncle. They were notorious bank robbers who had been arrested years ago but had somehow managed to escape. By the way, "Brandy" and "Sherry" weren't they're real names; they just used the names of their favorite drinks as a sort of code. They also typically drank in a pub near the banks of the Thames.
My uncle stepped outside to speak with the Queen of Crime, who was lying in front of the living room window.
"Did anyone assist you in solving this case before I had the opportunity to set the matter at rest?" he asked.
The cat nodded.
"An individual or a group?"
She tapped the ground once.
"Could you identify this rodent?"
She nodded and made a gesture as if putting on a ring.
"Married?"
The cat nodded yet again and pointed to my uncle.
"Into my family?" He shook his head. "For once, you have erred! I have but one in-law, and that is my sister's husband."
The Queen of Crime still nodded.
"Herschel Crofton has assisted you?! But how?! He too was a felon!"
She pointed to herself to remind my uncle of her own past.
"It pains me greatly to make this confession, but I fear that perhaps I have misjudged him. I shall attempt to make amends at once!"
The cat shook her head and placed a paw on her stomach. She then moved her two front paws as if indicating that she was rocking a baby.
"Oh, good heavens, no!" my uncle exclaimed.
The Queen of Crime glared.
My uncle said no more, but he actually took me to Regent's Park later that afternoon. It was a lot of fun running through the park until I fell and scraped a knee. When Dr. Dawson offered to help me, I hesitated. I remembered Mum's warnings about how dangerous it was to entrust one's health to a physician, as well as how I would be a disgrace to our family and the memory of our ancestors if I did so; however, I also remembered how truly caring my uncle's associate had seemed when his sister was injured, and how she had praised his skill as a doctor.
I was indecisive too long. Before I made up my mind one way or the other, I saw Dr. Dawson rummaging through his bag. My uncle gripped my shoulder.
"All will be well," he assured me. "I shall not speak a word of this to your mother if you shall not. One cannot be an ignominy to one's relations if one's family members never learn of the event. Is it not so?"
Against my better judgment, I allowed the doctor to help me. I actually felt better when he was finished.
That night, my uncle attempted to tell me stories about his former cases, although his associate proved to be the better storyteller. Ginger was nearly crying from the relief that her name was cleared and the true culprits had been arrested.
When Dad came to get me the following morning, my uncle actually shook his hand. I was surprised. However, when I followed Dad home, I was even more astonished.
Mum was lying in bed, holding a small baby. She smiled and motioned for me to come closer.
"Your new little sister," she whispered. "The stork brought her yesterday."
After the interactions I had seen between Mrs. Stafford and Dr. Dawson, I knew I didn't want a sister. In fact, after all the interactions I'd seen between my two uncles, I didn't even think I wanted a brother.
"Can you take her back?" I asked. "I don't want her."
My parents had simply laughed and tried to get me to cuddle the baby. She's kind of cute, but she cries all night and demands my parents' attention constantly. I feel like I'm trapped in an awful nightmare.
Does anyone want to buy a little sister?
