The Wall Lake Mystery

Chapter 31: B.B.

"To the shop of Mr. Brogden, then?" I asked Holmes when we were once again in the street.

Holmes nodded and set off in the direction of Main Street at a rapid clip. I found myself half jogging to keep up with him.

It was one of the businesses on the main thoroughfare: "Brogden's Smithy, Jewelry, and General Store."

"Bit of a jack-of-all-trades," I commented.

Holmes did not seem to hear me, but walked straight into the narrow place between two brick buildings. "Perhaps it would be best if you were to occupy yourself elsewhere," he said in a low voice.

"Why on earth do you believe that?" I asked. I was confused and despite my best efforts, a little hurt by the implication.

"This is dangerous territory," said Holmes in a low voice. "If Brogden is our man, and he suspects that we know it, word could reach P.T.C. by dark and I know not what the consequences would be. Rather, I would prefer we find some evidence damning enough for the Sheriff to throw him in a cell before he suspects I wish to question him."

"How do you propose to do that?" I asked.

"I shall not speak to him as myself," replied Holmes. He gestured for me to hand him my doctor's bag. He opened it and pulled out a false beard and dark green bowler cap. "I am now George Brown, a lawyer from Philadelphia," he said, with the corresponding accent.

"Impressive," I replied.

"Thank you," said Holmes, "but I do not wish to put your acting skills to the test today."

"I shall let you do most of the talking," I said. "Besides, what good can I do elsewhere? I would prefer to be at your side if things go awry."

Holmes sighed. "Fine. But I will speak for you unless you are addressed directly. Agreed?"

I nodded.

"Right, then," said Holmes. "Let us say you are my brother, John Brown, a..." He frowned.

"A journalist," I suggested. "Then I can explain away the lack of an American accent."

"Or rather, the presence of an English one," said Holmes. "Yes, that should work well enough. Speak as little as possible and take care not to contradict yourself or me."

"I shall be careful," I replied. I confess I was rather excited to be acting in one of Holmes' charades, so it was with a surge of adrenaline and eager anticipation that I followed Holmes out of the alley and up to the door of Brogden's General Store.

A little bell rang when we entered and a man in dusty blue overalls looked up from his desk and lay down a pair of pliers.

"Good afternoon, gents," said he. "Don't reckon I've seen you before. Name's Brogden." He rose to shake our hands.

"George Brown," said Holmes. "And this is my brother, John. We're family to the Hiemans."

"Nice to meet you both," said Brogden. "Family to the Hiemans, you say? That was a sad deal, what happened with Deputy Hugh. Though I don't recollect hearing of you fellas before."

Holmes nodded solemnly. "Old family feuds will do that. But everything's in the past, and we came by to wish the Hiemans well and offer them a little by way of financial support to get back on their feet after funeral expenses and the like."

"A kindness for sure," replied the shopkeeper.

Holmes nodded.

"Mrs. Hieman likely wasn't up to talking about it, but did you hear the Sheriff and those English detectives arrested a fella they think killed him, and it wasn't a suicide at all?"