Chapter 5

I lean back into my chair and rest my hand overtop my eyes. My head was pounding and nothing made sense to me anymore. All of the evidence pointed towards Henry and he himself had run away after my accusation. So why did something not feel right about everything that happened? Henry's reaction to Mr. Watson's death seemed so real and something that I don't think was actable.

My stomach grumbled and for the first time today, I felt truly relieved that something was distracting me from my case. Getting out of my chair now I poke around looking for my daughter but I find her sleeping so I leave her be. Walking out into the square now I stretch out my arms and groan as my shoulders popped.

I let my nose guide me as I wandered around town like a hound dog on a trail. Eventually I settled on the bar by the corner of the merchant district. I could knock down the ever looming issue of eating and maybe pick up some clues. 

Heading over now to the bar, I can hear even from this distance the drunken singing and shouting that I had become accustomed to being a part of. After a minute's walk I arrive at the shambled door. Pushing it open the smell of alcohol rushes over me and so begins the never ending battle of man and the devil's temptations. 

Already more than a few people had noticed my arrival and were already clamoring for me to come sit with them. Poorly as they treated me when they were sober, drunk they were as jolly as Saint Nick himself on Christmas Day. I allowed myself to be yanked over to a cozy cubicle in the corner where there sat three men. Two of them I am unfamiliar with and the one who pulled me over, Barnabas, is the resident information broker. He was exactly who I had come here to see. 

Waving over a passerby I slipped him some money and told him to tell the bartender to fetch a pitcher of beer and some meatloaf. I hadn't even realized I forgot my breakfast at home until after all the excitement. The food and drink arrived after some waiting and I turned my attention back towards Barnabas. Taking a deep gulp from my glass all the while keeping one ear trained on the commotion behind me, I begin to question Barnabas. 

"Have you seen the Watsons manservant anywhere around town by chance? I suspect he's behind the murder of both of the Watsons. Although you probably know that by now."

Barnabas waved me in and whispered into my ear. The rough unshaven stubble scraped against my cheek. 

"Rumor around town has it that you were the one who killed them, James. Half the town saw you running like a madman being chased by their servant. As for myself, I can't say for sure who did it, but I'm almost positive it isn't Henry. Of course, I won't disclose to you why, information comes at a price. I'm giving this tidbit to you because you're a long time customer. I advise you to finish that meatloaf and get out of here, go solve another mystery. Come back when all the fuss has died down, leave this one to the police." 

Pushing back my plate now I stare at the limp piece of meat with shock. Did they really think that it was me? After everything I've done for them, they're just going to turn their backs on me? Maybe Barnabas was right, if I went and solved another mystery, a bigger one, they'd realize they were wrong and welcome me back. Perhaps this was what I needed anyways, I was foolish to think I could garner any sort of respect even after all this time. 

Sliding out of the wooden cubicle I left my money under my glass and swept towards the entrance. Even with my back turned I could feel all the eyes trained towards me. Without a word I left the bar and headed back towards my office. It was late afternoon now and the heat had somewhat dissipated. 

The walk back felt eons longer than it should've, even though I knew I was innocent I still felt a burning shame. As far as anyone else was concerned, I was a killer on the loose, and it seemed I was the only one who didn't know it. My office was almost coming into sight when I stopped in my tracks and looked at the road leading to the Watson house. Perhaps one last investigation was in order before I disappeared. 

Everything felt so unreal, as if it was a dream. I was never the kind of detective that was called upon by royalty to solve their petty cases, but I was never the scourge of the town. Something deep inside me was bubbling and growing, threatening to burst if I let it. But I wouldn't let it. I took a deep breath and continued my walk to the crime scene. 

Sure enough my memory served me correctly and I found myself standing in front of the collapsed house. The door was ajar and swinging slightly on its hinge from the gust of wind coming in. I stepped in and immediately made my way to the back of the house where I last remember being. Everything was exactly as it was before save an overturned chair by the door. 

I make my way back over to the kitchen and root around the drawers for anything I could use as evidence. There's not much in them except for some dented silverware that was probably used for guests. Despite living in such a once lavish house, the Watsons greatly neglected the care and upkeep of it. I was just about to leave the room when a flash of black against the marble floor caught my eye. I knelt down and picked up a stray glove that had been thrown in the corner of the room. 

It was a thick rubber glove, the kind used for manual labor. Bringing it up to my nose, I sniffed and gagged as the smell of fresh raw meat and blood filled my nostrils. I gagged and thrust it away from my face. Slowly the recognition dawned on me that the blood was fresh. Fresh. Someone had been here after I left, in fact very very recently. 

My eyes widened and I whipped my head around in time to see a meat cleaver hurtling down on a path headed straight for my skull.