Secrets (Sherlock)

Blind Banker- Part 5

I would like to dedicate this chapter lokisarmy12. She is one of the few people who followed me before I followed them, and that makes me really feel like people like my writing. So, I thought she should have a dedication. Hope you like it!

~Maggie

I went with Sherlock to Van Coons office, mostly because I wanted to see if I broke Seb’s nose… again. Alas, he wasn’t there. So, I just did some investigating with Sherlock.

“Flew back from Dalian, Friday. Looks like he had back to back meetings with the sales team,” Van Coons secretary, Amanda, said, while they were looking at a calendar on the computer.

“Can you print me up a copy?”

“Sure,” she replied.

“What about the day he died? Can you tell me where he was?” I asked.

“Sorry, I’ve got a gap. I’ve have all his receipts.”

“What kind of a boss was he, Amanda? Appreciative?” I asked again.

“Em, no. I don’t think that’s the word I’d choose. The only things that Eddie appreciated had a big price tag.”

“Like that hand cream. He bought that for you, didn’t he? Look at this receipt. Got a taxi from home on the day he died, 18 pounds fifty,“ Sherlock observed.

“That would get him to the office.”

“Not rush hour. Check the time. Mid-morning. 18 would get him as far as...”

“The West End! I remember him saying,” she realized.

“Underground,” I said, picking up a tube ticket. “Printed at one in Piccadilly.”

“So he got a tube back to the office. Why would he get a taxi into town and then the tube back?”

“Because he was delivering something heavy. You wouldn’t lug a package up the escalator.”

“Delivering?”

“To somewhere near Piccadilly Station. Dropped the package, delivered it, and then stopped on his way,” I said, picking up a restaurant receipt, “He got peckish.”

“So you bought your lunch from here en route to the station, but where were you headed from?” I said, looking around the area Sherlock and I got the receipt from. “Where did the cab drop you-Oof!”

“Right,” John, who I had just bumped into, said.

“Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died. Whatever was hidden inside that case? We’ve managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information.”

“Sherlock,” John tried.

“Credit card bills and receipts. He flew back from China then he came here,” the consulting detective rambled on.

“Sherlock,” John tried again.

“Somewhere in this street. Somewhere near. I don’t know where but...”

“That shop, over there,” John said, pointing to a small shop across the street.

“How could you tell?” I asked.

“Lukis’s diary. He was here too. He wrote down the address.”

“Oh.”

“Want lucky cat?” the woman behind the counter asked.

“No thanks. No,” John answered.

“Ten pound. Ten pound. I think your wife, she will like,” she said gesturing to me. I couldn’t help but laugh at the shade of red John face turned.