“The hands,” he said. It started to drizzle, and two uniformed officers carefully draped a bright-yellow tarp over the body. We’d come just in time to take our notes.
Some muttering in the crowd of police stole my attention, and the sea of suited men suddenly parted as a large, sandy--colored man with a walrus-esque figure and demeanor stomped through the scene. All the men paid him deference, with “sir” and “guv” accompanying every nod and step aside. The Walrus Man ignored them all, making a beeline for a man clutching a clipboard. “Coroner come and gone?” asked the walrus.
“Not without that.” Clipboard man actually had to point out the bright-yellow tarp. My mind reeled at the lack of observance necessary to completely miss the central focus of the entire scene. That this man was apparently the senior officer forced an exasperated sound from me before I could stifle it. Sherlock tensed but didn’t look at me.
“Taking his time, I see,” said the walrus. “So, what’ve we got?”
Clipboard held an evidence bag up to the lights. “Wallet, opened and empty next to the deceased. Stab wounds. Lots of blood. It’s even on his umbrella and the tree.”
He was right. There was a darker patch on the tree that started just below a white gouge mark that looked wet, as wet as the umbrella, which seemed much more significant in that light.
“So, robbery gone wrong?” asked Walrus.
“Had to be something like that.”
Sherlock made a sound deep in his throat that was much louder than the one I had made, and when our eyes met, I widened mine, hoping he’d take it as an invitation to shut up. Still, it was obvious even to me that this was no robbery. I mean, the watch alone—
“Maybe he was out for a run,” Walrus offered.
“In wool trousers,” Sherlock whispered, derisively.
“An evening constitutional,” the other officer said. “That’s good. I’ll jot that in the report.”
“All sorted, then. Good, good.”
The men started down the hill toward the crowd as we backtracked toward the tape. The very moment we were out of earshot, Sherlock practically exploded with outrage.
“The incompetence! The base incompetence and absolute reckless idiocy!”
His eyes were full of fire again, and I couldn’t help but notice how intriguing he looked with his eyes wider and his cheeks aflame. Passion. It had to be his passion. Everyone is infinitely more attractive when they’re full of the stuff.
“Disheartening,” I added to his list of adjectives as we extricated ourselves from the crime scene. “To think our safety in this park is in the hands of two—”
“Actual jackasses!” Sherlock cried. “They could place actual donkeys in uniforms and get better deduction.”
“Technically, those two weren’t in uniform, of course.”
I smiled when Sherlock continued on as though I hadn’t spoken a word. He was clearly not to be distracted from his ranting. I can’t say I minded. We were taking a much more direct route back to the park’s inner circle path.
“The noises of beasts, Mori! I would listen to pack animals heaving out calls deep into the night before I’d lower myself to listen to even one more syllable.”
I took his hand in mine and tried my best to repress a laugh when that simple action quieted him almost instantly. I’d done it without thinking, really, like I would to my brothers when they were younger and would be on about something. Sherlock stared down at our joined hands, then up at my face.
“Are you done?” I asked.
Sherlock sighed. “Probably.” A wry grin lifted his cheeks. He squeezed my hand gently, and then fidgeted a bit as we walked. Once we reached the path, he swung our hands a little, like he wasn’t able to hold still. “Or perhaps not.” He released my hand and turned toward me. “We should take the case.”
“‘Take the case’?” I wanted to laugh openly at him then. “Do you think at all before you speak?”
“We could do it. We are clever. The swans on the lake are more clever than those detectives. Perhaps even the trees.”
“Yes, yes. They were morons. But it’s not as though we are a part of the investigation. How do you propose we learn anything at all about the crime or who did it or why?”
“Observation. Deduction. Sheer mind power.”
“And when we’ve nothing left to observe?”
“You said your dad is police.”
“He doesn’t even want me in the park right now. He would definitely not be okay with my investigating a murder.”
“So, you think it’s more than just a mugging gone wrong?”
I pursed my lips.
“As do I,” he added hastily. “And with your cleverness and my reasoning, we could come up with an answer well before the police.”
“For what purpose?”
Sherlock offered me a half smile before he said, “Because we can.”
It was a very infectious smile. “You think I am merely clever?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know you that well. Not yet.”
I shook my head. “‘Because we can’ isn’t good enough.”