Short:
I stared over the ship’s railing and spoke to my brother Mycroft without glancing at him. “I feel this trip may be a mistake.”
I saw him turn toward me from the corner of my eye. “The crossing’s almost over. You’ll feel better when you get on dry land.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I glared at him. “Mother hasn’t been herself since Easter. Out of the blue, she announces we’re going to Paris while you’re still recovering from a gunshot wound. And she’d been distracted even before that.”
Mother had always been the family rock. I’d rarely seen her rattled, but even granite can break under pressure.
During our Easter holiday in London, she appeared preoccupied by matters she never explained to me or my brother. At the time, I’d put it down to concern over my father’s efforts to invest in a business venture with an old school chum as well as Mycroft’s wounding at the hands of our kidnappers. Both, however, were now behind us. The investment had produced a modest return, and I saw no lingering problems related to Mycroft’s injury. All the same, we’d barely arrived home from school before she’d packed our trunks and shuffled us all off to Newhaven for the steamship ride to Dieppe.
“I do believe bringing the entire family is a ruse,” he said after his own inspection of the sea.
“Including Uncle Ernest in the trip did surprise me.” Her brother rarely left the estate or his workshop. “Perhaps she thinks it will do him some good. They report being happy growing up there.”
He glanced at the smoke trailing the ship. “If she was so happy there, why doesn’t she show it?”
I ran through all the scenarios—from something as benign as a sudden bout of nostalgia to a fatal illness calling her back to see her French relatives one last time—and shook my head. “Without more information, I would only be speculating. You yourself have said that can be counterproductive. Whatever the reason, something has truly unnerved her.” I turned back to the ocean, seeking any indication of the coastline. “And whatever it is lies in Paris.”
Later:
Running footfalls echoed on the street. We all turned in their direction as a black figure rushed toward us. Ernest and Mycroft stepped closer to Mother, shoving me forward toward the bulky man, his face covered by a scarf and now only a few strides from me and Gaspard. At the last moment, the man veered toward Gaspard, grabbed the portfolio from his grasp and continued up the street. The artist and I had the same reaction simultaneously. I dropped the canvas and set off in pursuit of the thief. Despite his protested ill health, Gaspard’s long legs assisted him in reaching the man first. His satchel flying behind him, he leapt onto the man’s back, pulling him down.
The two struggled, rolling about on the ground, with first one, then the other on top. At the next rotation, as the thief pinned Gaspard underneath him, I fell on the man, pulling him backward. As I did so, the portfolio fell from his grasp. The artist clutched the leather case to his chest and scrambled out from under his attacker.
With my attention directed toward the struggle, I failed to hear the carriage approaching until it was almost upon us. The black-clad man shrugged me off and lunged for the portfolio. Gaspard spun about and ran into the street.
Mother’s scream pierced the night as her former friend tripped on a loose paving stone and fell underneath the horses’ hooves. A series of sickening thuds followed as horse and man connected, freezing me to my spot.
The thief took advantage of my immobility to rush into the street, grab the portfolio now lying a few feet from Gaspard, and ascend the carriage. I stared at its back as it turned a corner and sped away.
The sound of more running footsteps shook me from my temporary paralysis. I rushed to the injured man. The horses had missed his head, but hoof marks on his shirt indicated his chest had been crushed. Somehow, he was still breathing.
Review quotes:
Tahera from Goodreads:
“Full of mystery, adventure, danger and interesting characters, the book is very well paced and well written.”
Brenda from Barnes and Noble:
“Clever, witty and descriptive - simply unmissable!”
I want to thank you for giving me the opportunity to share about my new release, The Adventure of the Purloined Portrait, the fourth case in my Early Case Files of Sherlock Holmes series. It’s available for a special price for a limited time.
In one of the original Sherlock Holmes’ tales, he tells Watson his grandmother was the sister of the French artist Vernet. While not so well known now, Horace Vernet came from a family of artists (both his father and grandfather have paintings in the Louvre) and because his grandfather married an English woman, the Vernet name was familiar to the British. While Holmes notes this gave him “art in the blood,” it also gave him a connection to France not explored in the original stories.
When I began the series, I determined this was one aspect of his life I would like to tap. In The Adventure of the Purloined Portrait, I finally got the Holmes family to Paris. Their summer holiday is shattered when they witness a murder on their first night in the city. The artist of an old, compromising sketch of Sherlock’s mother is run down by a carriage in front of them. The hunt to bring the killer to justice sends Sherlock into parts of the city off the beaten path for most tourists—not to mention into danger.
In addition to a visit to the Louvre (after all, their ancestors had paintings hanging there), I also included sites such as the Mont-de-Piété (now the Crédit Municipal de Paris), the state-run pawn shops; the Hôtel Drouot, an auction house; the headquarters of the Surete (the French equivalent of Scotland Yard); and Montmartre of 1868, a sleepy village on the outskirts of the city. As I completed my research for the book, I found myself longing to return to the city to actually visit the places I’d only read about in books or online. Even Montmartre, a place I’d visited before, now holds new meaning to me.
What about you? Have you been to Paris? Want to go? What would you like to see?
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