by Mary Christmas (unicorn_76010 at lycos.com)
"My goodness, could it actually be...Beth!" Holmes and Lestrade
turned to look at where the voice had come from.
It was a lovely woman with bright red hair, wearing a blue cardigan
and skirt combination.
They were at a country club, one that Tom had dragged his sister
(according to her) to when they first came to New London.
"Hello, Keri," Lestrade said hesitantly, "How have you been?"
"Just fine, dear. Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"
Lestrade sighed gustily, Holmes decided that this woman was not one
of her favorite people.
"Jeffrey Baker, meet Keri Winfield. Keri, this is my fiance,
Jeff." As she said this she put her arm through his and pulled him
toward her possessively.
An odd look crossed Miss Winfield's face, but she covered it
quickly with a smirk. "Really, you're getting married, Beth, dear? Who
would have guessed that the little ugly tomboy would bag such a...fine...
specimen as Jeffrey here. You don't mind if I call you Jeffrey, do you?"
Holmes kept his face expressionless. "Actually, I do. I only
let my friends call me anything other than Mr. Baker. You can call
me Mr. Baker." He pulled the seething Lestrade over to the bar.
"Pay no attention to her, Beth," Holmes said loudly, "That kind of
woman is not worth getting upset over." He smiled when he heard a
'hmph' from somewhere behind him.
"Shall we dance, my love?" he asked.
"Yeah." He noticed she was still glaring after Winfield.
"Pay attention, Lestrade," he whispered. She shook her head and
took the hand he had extended.
Once they were on the dance floor, he asked, "Does Newman have any
enemies that you know of?"
She gave him an odd look. "Holmes, he's one of the richest men
in the world. Of course he's got enemies."
He shook his head. "I mean anyone that stands out. Like someone
he angered recently."
She frowned, then sighed. "Sorry, Holmes, but you'll have to ask
him. It really has been a long time since I've seen him."
"Hmm, perhaps I should call Thomas...."
"Don't you dare!" she hissed.
He stared down at her. "All right, then I suppose I must ask
Newman. Hopefully he will have found all the bugs, if there were any."
Two days later they were back at Newman's and Holmes asked, "Have
you taken care of your little problem?" He was referring to the possible
Newman nodded. "There wasn't even one."
"Good, now do you have any of the notes?"
Newman nodded again and rummaged through his desk. "Here you go.
I saved all of them, for the police."
"Excellent." Holmes studied them for a moment before looking up.
"Each of these notes says something is going to happen on the twenty-fourth.
That is two weeks from now." He frowned, and went back to studying them.
Lestrade watched him, waiting as patiently as she could for him to
give them over to her. When he finally did, she couldn't help but gasp.
The first one read: 'Newman, you pig, on the twenty-fourth, you'll
get what's coming to you.' The second: 'Beware, rich man, you will see
your judgment day sooner than you think. Watch out for the 24th.' The
other two continued on in the same vein, although the wording got more
"Who did you tick off, Evan?" she asked.
"That's what I called the police to find out."
"And we shall, Mr. Newman, we shall. Now, I believe we should
schedule the wedding for the twenty-fourth. If we have not found our
note-writer before then, he or she will be forced to show their hand."
On to Part 6!
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