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“Quite so,” Holms elucidated, “That is what he was told. But this intrepid woman missed her son so much that she broke the terms of the contract she had made with United and sought out her long lost son.”
A look of utter joy flitted over Cynthia’s lovely face. “Jimmy's mum? So it wasn't a dirty old slapper. His mum. Aw.”
“I have a feeling you suspected as much, Alexander,” Holms accused.
“I'm saying nothing,” the Scotsman responded.
“No matter,” the great detective said, “Every fact has now clicked into place and the mystery is solved.”
“But where's Jimmy?” Cynthia asked.
“Aye, Holms,” Alexander added, “Where's Henderson? I have a press conference shortly and the Liverpool game tomorrow.”
I too was eager to have the final piece of the puzzle for I had no doubt that Holms’ conjecture was correct, but he was not to be rushed. “I believed my brief was to uncover the reason for his disappearance. I have done so.”
“This is no time for jokes, Holms. Come along, we must get going if I'm to produce Henderson at the press conference. Where is he? I have a car outside.”
Alexander stood up as if he could force Holms’ hand.
“Calm yourself, he is not far distant. His ultimate whereabouts I deduced thanks to Miss La Crème.”
“See,” the pretty girl trilled, “I knew I wasn't stupid.”
“Or rather, her rather potent scent, an expensive perfume which I had smelt on someone who had no right to smell so intensely. It no doubt clung to Mr Henderson and was subsequently transferred to this third party.”
Impatience got the better of Miss La Crème. “Do you not get fed up telling everybody how brilliant you are?”
“Frankly, no,” the great detective confessed.
“My captain, Holms?” Alexander demanded.
“Very well, let us rush to our denouement. Wilson, pray call on Mrs Houston.”
“I've no time for tea,” Alexander complained.
“Nevertheless, you will indulge me.”
I went to the door and shouted to our landlady and she bustled up the stairs, her apron covered in flour as she had evidently been baking.
“One moment, Mrs Houston,” Holms said to her. “Mr Alexander, I do not issue invoices as they would publicise my clients, which I'm sure you’d wish to avoid. Please ensure that a cheque for the fee due to me is in the post by tomorrow. I am now about to produce the missing Mr Jimmy Henderson.”
“If you can produce him from a teapot you are a magician,” Alexander commented.
“Have faith in the master, Mr Alexander,” I advised.
“Mrs Houston,” Holms boomed, “please ask the young gentleman you have been sheltering in your rooms to join us.”