Symphony of Lilacs

32. Checkmate, Crimley

Constable Harvey knocks on the sallow door ahead and looks at me from over his shoulder. His mouth opens, but then the occupier of the room says enter.

Faking a smile, I gesture to the door ahead.

Sighing, Harvey opens it.
Head Constable Granville scans the mountains of papers in front of him, his glasses on his nose bridge.
He lifts his head, pushing his glasses back.
“Matthew, what a pleasant surprise!” He stands up, walking over to me while also saying to Harvey,
“Tell the peon to bring two cups of tea for me and my nephew.”

Like his usual impassion, Harvey exits the room with a cardboard nod.
And like his usual gregariousness, Uncle Arnold-- Mother’s paternal cousin-- winks

“Or should I call you Detective William Sterling?” He winks.

“I’m a professional doctor Uncle Arnold, not a detective.” I wave a hand at him.

Uncle Arnold laughs.
“Nonsense! Your experience and solved case rate is more than half of the professional detectives we have here.”

Mother and Edmund know I’ve been helping the police department with cases.
It all started when I anonymously helped with a case related to my own hospital during the first year of medical school.
Later that anonymity took an alias. That alias was William Sterling.

Before releasing me, Uncle Arnold slams a hand against my back, almost hurling me forward.

I stabilise myself, pulling my coat at the opening.
“But Uncle--”

“Nonsense!”
Uncle shakes his head.
“Now tell me why you are here. I thought you wanted a break after the Roma case.”
He walks to his desk, sitting behind it.

“It was quite an unsettling case, Uncle.”
I pull back my chair, running a hand through my hair.

“I will not deny that.” Uncle's gave travels over to a portrait of the late Oscar Hastings, his previous second in charge,
“Just like Hastings's case five years ago…”

And of course that's why the Metropolitan police closed the case when his daughters were pressured to request it.

I resist an eye roll.

Uncle shakes his head, smiling at me.
“Now, your matter? It must be of import since you requested Jasper to not be here, in your message.”

Jasper Harvey follows rules too much for my liking.
Which won't benefit me at all right now.

"I did not want to bother him with something related to my person." I smile, even though Uncle already knows how much Harvey and I get along.

The door clicks open.
A peon walks in with a tray of tea.
I glance at Oscar Hastings's portrait-- remembering another detective I once knew five years ago-- while Uncle checks his papers again. Both of us are distracted when the peon asks about the sugar.

The peon doesn't pay heed and exits wordlessly after doing his work.
Uncle Arnold's whisking teaspoon echoes in the office.

Mine remains silent in its stirring.
“It’s about Isaac Crimley.” My gaze remains on the ripples in the liquid.

Uncle Arnold stops stirring.
“I never assigned you such a case.”

“But you did mention him on Isabelle's birthday.” I take a sip from the porcelain cup, its taste lost to me.

“Mentioning and assigning are two very different matters, Matthew.”
A shade of grey-- instead of white-- coats his tone.
“I did not peg you as someone who would meddle with people like Crimley.”