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It was a beautiful Sunday morning and I had a
friend’s wedding to attend to. I was in my best suit and on my way out, when I heard the knock on the door. I opened the door and cursed myself for choosing to attend
the wedding. There before me stood the most beautiful woman I had ever set eyes
upon. A pair of beautiful dark eyes stared into mine from the other side of the
doorway. I felt my heart skip a beat as I traced my eyes over the thick black
hair, the sensuous lips and the perfect figure of the angel that stood before
me.
“Is this the residence of Mr. Moriarty?” The lady
asked.
I nodded, unable to mouth any words.
“Oh! I am sorry, I didn’t recognize you, I -”
“No, no, no! I am Sebastian Moran, Jim’s partner. Do
come in.”
As I let the lady in, Jim entered the room.
“Ah! You must be Miss Beryl Stapleton or should I
call you Mrs. Baskerville?” he asked.
His words produced contrasting reactions from us.
The lady was visibly surprised while I was left devastated. She is married? I
blessed the moment I decided to go to that wedding.
“How did you know?” asked the lady.
“Who else could it be? I should have guessed when
Radnor let me go so easily. The one loop hole in my rule. You must be my ‘new’
client, err...”
“Beryl, call me Beryl. And yes, I am your new
client.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, Beryl, but I am not
interested in your case.” said Jim.
“Please, sir. Do accept it. If not for my husband,
do it for me. Rodger can be very violent when things don’t go his way and he
takes out his anger on me.”
“That is for you to worry about.” Said Jim coldly.
For a moment, I thought she would burst into tears.
After all, what else were women good for? But when she saw that her pleas were
not having any effect on Jim, she changed tactics with such pace that it left
me stunned.
“You are afraid of him, aren’t you?” she asked.
“I’m not afraid of your husband, Beryl. The death of
Sir Charles was a masterpiece.
The perfect crime. The one that went
unnoticed. I will not spoil it for a
fool’s flimsy fantasies.”
The woman burst into laughter, a mad maniacal laugh,
like none I have ever heard before.
“Why are you laughing?” asked a puzzled Jim.
“I was not referring to my husband, Mr. Moriarty.
And don’t you take comfort in the illusion that the crime was a perfect one.
Dr. Mortimer suspects foul play.”
“He won’t be able to prove anything.”
“Of course, he won’t. But someone else will. Dr.
Mortimer has paid a visit to the Baker Street detective. Accept it Mr.
Moriarty, you are afraid of Mr. Holmes’ reputation and that is the real reason
why you are scared of taking this job. Any rookie can commit a crime when no
one is watching. Only a maestro can pull one off when the cleverest man on
earth is watching.”
Jim winced. Beryl had hit where it hurts. First she wounded
Jim’s pride by breaking the bubble of the perfect crime. Then to add salt into
those wounds she called him a coward and referred to the ‘Baker Street
detective’ as ‘the cleverest man on earth’.
Just then the clock struck nine. I was getting late
for my wedding. Though I wanted to stay, I had no option but to leave my friend
at the mercy of this woman. I learned an important lesson that day: Never
underestimate a woman.
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