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Holms attempted to pour oil on the troubled waters. “We didn't mean to imply that the Spanish people would do anything underhand …”
But his plea fell on deaf ears. “You are insulting the Rodrigo. I call security.”
He made to make for the door and I sprang to my feet, ready to give him a left upper cut and stop him in his tracks, but Holms stayed my hand. “Ahem, just why are you sleeping in the Spanish Consulate, Mr Montoya? I'm sure you can afford an extensive villa on your extravagant salary.”
Holms shone his beam full on the Spaniard’s face and I could see that he looked embarrassed.
“Ah, is big secret, Mr Holms, you no' tell?”
“If our presence here is kept quiet.”
“Rodrigo in love with Maria, beautiful daughter of Spanish Consul. Rodrigo come to reception party for Spanish in UK and fall sleepy on couch. When everybody else go beddy he go up to Maria bedroom for much kissing.”
“You dirty devil,” I commented.
“You no' tell!” the little man pleaded. “Consul General no' want his Maria kiss footballer.”
“Our lips are sealed,” Holms promised.
The Spaniard held out his hand to Holms. “Good. I give you promise, we no' take the Jimmy.”
“Then our work here is done. Come, Wilson, it is time for us to leave.” We turned to the window by which we’d entered, only to hear one last statement from Montoya, “Hey, what about autograph? I got pen.”
The following day Holms and I were relaxing in our armchairs when Mrs Houston entered with her vacuum cleaner and began cleaning our carpets. I watched Holms as his eyelids slowly opened like lazy drawbridges and he took in what had disturbed him.
“Mrs Houston,” he barked, but the roar of the suction machine drowned out his voice. He tried again “Mrs Houston!” but was again ignored. Holms reached over to the wall socket and wrenched the cable from it and the din ceased.
“Can a woman not get any work done?” Mrs Houston complained.
Holms silenced her with a finger to his lips and asked, “Mrs Houston, you are an older woman?”
“Older than what?”
“Older than a younger woman.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Please, be seated.”
She put on a superior air. “I don't sit with my tenants.”
“It would assist me greatly if you would answer some questions.”
She seemed surprised. “Oh, a suspect now, am I?”
“In the case of the Baker St poisonings, you are,” I declared
“There haven't been any poisonings in Baker St.”
I waved a hand towards the table. “I beg to differ, we have the remains of yesterday's dinner as evidence.”