Fate Without Time

Chapter 32

About an hour later, Kenny Prince's houseboy, whose name was Raoul, as we found out, was showing Sherlock and I into the room. Sherlock had a large bag over his shoulder, while I was carrying a long narrow case which was holding a photographic tripod as we walked over to Kenny. "Ah, Mr. Prince, isn't it?" asked Sherlock. "Yes," said Kenny. "Very good to meet you," I said. "Yes; thank you," he said as we shook hands, Sherlock looking very closely at Kenny's hand as he did so. "So sorry to hear about..." "Yes, yes, very kind," Kenny finished for Sherlock. "Shall we, er..." John said awkwardly. Sherlock and I nodded as we walked over to the sofa, Sherlock rummaging in his bag while I put down the case beside it. John walked over and began to whisper to us. "You were right. The bacteria got into her another way," he said. I smirked. "Oh yes?" I asked. "Yes," he said. Then, Kenny turned towards us. "Right. We all set?" he asked. "Um, yes," said John as he looked at Sherlock, who has taken a camera and flashgun from his bag, and jerked his head towards Kenny. "Can you...?" asked John. Kenny leaned one arm on the mantelpiece and posed as Sherlock walked closer and began to take pictures of him. "Not too close. I'm raw from crying," said Kenny. Then, I heard meowing and I looked down to see a cat at my feet. "Oh, who's this?" I asked. "Sekhmet. Named after the Egyptian goddess," said Kenny. "How nice! Was she Connie's?" asked Sherlock. "Yes," said Kenny. John reached down towards the cat but unfortunately, Kenny beat him to it, bending down and picking it up. "Little present from yours truly," he added. John straightened up, obviously a little frustrated, and looked at us. "Alissa, Sherlock? Uh, light reading?" he asked. I shot up, realizing what John meant. "Oh, um..." I said as I motioned for Sherlock to give me the other flashgun. Once it was in my hand, I held it towards Kenny and fired it straight into his face. "Two point eight," I said as Kenny squinched his eyes shut against the light. "Bloody hell. What do you think you're playing at?!" Kenny exclaimed. While John reached out and rubbed his fingers over one of the cat's front paws, I kept firing the flashgun to keep Kenny's eyes closed. "Sorry," I said, not really sorry as I continued to fire the flashgun. "You're like Laurel and bloody Hardy, you two. And the girl's an interesting character, too," said Kenny. "Oi! I've got a name and it's Alissa!" I exclaimed, firing the flashgun again just to get my point across. "What's going on?" asked Kenny. "Actually, I think we've got what we came for. Excuse us," said John. "What?" asked Kenny. "Sherlock, Alissa?" asked John. "What?" we asked. John grabbed the case from the sofa and headed towards the door. "We've got deadlines," he said. Sherlock and I nodded as we followed after him. "But you've not taken anything!" Kenny yelled. The three of us ignored him as we let ourselves out of the house, John chuckling delightedly as we walked down the drive towards the main road. "Yes! Ooh, yes!" John exclaimed. "You think it was the cat. It wasn't the cat," said Sherlock, smiling. "What? No, yes. Yeah, it is. It must be. It's how they got the tetanus into her system. Its paws stink of disinfectant," said John. I smiled. "Lovely idea," I said. "No, he coated it onto the paws of her cat. It's a new pet – bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn't have..." "I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm, but it's too random and too clever for the brother," Sherlock interrupted. John chuckled again. "He murdered his sister for her money," he said. "Did he?" I asked. "Didn't he?" asked John, looking at Sherlock and I. "No. It was revenge," said Sherlock. "Revenge? Who wanted revenge?" asked John. "Raoul, the houseboy. Kenny Prince was the butt of his sister's jokes, week in, week out, a virtual bullying campaign. Finally he had enough; fell out with her badly. It's all on the website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny. Raoul had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, so..." I trailed off. "No, wait, wait. Wait a second," said John as he stopped at looked at us. Sherlock and I stopped as well. "What about the disinfectant, then, on the cat's claws?" asked John. "Raoul keeps a very clean house. You came through the kitchen door, saw the state of that floor, scrubbed to within an inch of its life. You smell of disinfectant now. No, the cat doesn't come into it," said Sherlock. "Raoul's internet records do, though. Hope we can get a cab from here," I said as Sherlock and I walked off.