A continuation of USA Today bestselling author Leonard Goldberg's Daughter of Sherlock Holmes series, The Abduction of Pretty Penny finds Joanna and the Watsons on the tail of an infamous killer.
Joanna and the Watsons are called in by the Whitechapel Playhouse to find Pretty Penny, a lovely, young actress who has gone missing without reason or notice. While on their search, the trio is asked by Scotland Yard to join in the hunt for a vicious murderer whose method resembles that of Jack The Ripper. It soon becomes clear that The Ripper has reemerged after a 28-year absence and is once again murdering young prostitutes in Whitechapel.
Following a line of subtle clues, Joanna quickly reasons that Pretty Penny has been taken capture by the killer. But as Joanna moves closer to learning his true identity, the killer sends her a letter indicating her young son Johnny will be the next victim to die. Time is running out, and Joanna has no choice but to devise a most dangerous plan which will bring her face-to-face with the killer. It is the only chance to protect her son and rescue Pretty Penny, and save both from an agonizing death.
The Abduction of Pretty Penny is a wonderful new entry in a series that the Historical Novel Society calls “one of the best Sherlock Holmes series since Laurie R. King’s Mary Russell books."
A Macmillan Audio production from Minotaur Books
Release date:
June 15, 2021
Publisher:
St. Martin's Publishing Group
Print pages:
320
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
As chroniclers for the world’s most famous detectives, it was our weekly custom, when not otherwise caught up in an investigation, to glance over the notes of previous cases which we believed merited publication. This dreary Wednesday morning found my father, John H. Watson, M.D., the friend and colleague of the long-dead Sherlock Holmes, reviewing dusty records from the mysteries the Great Detective had so admirably solved, while I studied similar pages from the twenty-odd cases unraveled by my wife, Joanna, whose analytical skills were now believed to be on the same level as those of her revered father. Outside, a clap of thunder broke our concentration, which gave us a moment to relight our pipes and enjoy the warmth of a cheery three-log fire.
“Here in ‘A Case of Identity’ was where Holmes uttered his often-quoted axiom,” my father remarked.
“Which was?” I asked.
“That the little things are infinitely the most important,” my father replied.
“And that is exemplified by the woman I have been studying for the past ten minutes,” said Joanna, who was peering out the window of our rooms at 221b Baker Street.
“Pray tell what is the little thing you observe?” inquired my father.
“A woman with a walking stick,” she answered.
My father and I rose and joined Joanna, so that we, too, could view the woman under consideration. I could see nothing out of the ordinary about the subject, and the expression on my father’s face told me that he held the same opinion. The individual in question bore the signs of an average, commonplace woman, somewhat rotund and slow walking.
“Please describe what you gather from her outward appearance,” Joanna requested.
“Most noticeably, she is wearing a broad-brimmed hat, with a curling green feather atop it,” said I. “Her jacket is a light shade of brown, buttoned at the neck, and has what appears to be leather patches on its sleeves. She has on scant jewelry and is adorned only with dangling silver earrings. I cannot see her boots, nor do I have a good view of her gloveless hands. I would say she is quite ordinary, perhaps a housewife out on a shopping tour.”
“And her walking stick?”
“Relatively inexpensive, for it has no metal ornaments.”
Joanna clapped her hands gently at my conclusion and chuckled under her breath. “Excellent, John. You are coming along wonderfully well, and your description is spot-on, particularly your keen eye for colors. But unfortunately, you have missed everything of importance.”
“Such as?”
“The details, dear John, for they are the most instructive. Do not simply observe the walking stick, but wonder why it is being used. As you have noted, this woman cares little for ornaments, and thus one might well conclude that the stick has some particular value.”
I once again studied the woman who continued to stroll up and down the footpath, looking straight ahead except for occasional glances across Baker Street. For a moment, I had a clear view of her entire body as she moved between other shoppers. “She limps!”
“Yes, and that is why she employs a walking stick,” Joanna remarked. “Now, Watson, you being an experienced practitioner of medicine for over thirty years, please observe her gait and inform us which of her joints is so afflicted that it requires additional support.”
My father leaned in closer to the window and scrutinized the woman’s every step. “It is her right hip which is damaged, for that is the side she supports with her walking stick. You will also note that she flexes and extends her knee with ease, which is more evidence that it is the hip that causes her problem.”
“And the cause of her joint damage?”
“Being in her middle years, I suspect she has cartilage degeneration from wear and tear, although a traumatic cause cannot be excluded. I see no evidence of generalized arthritis.”
“Most helpful, Watson,” Joanna commended. “So then, let us place all of our observations together and see what conclusions can be reached. We have a middle-aged woman, with a painful right hip, strolling back and forth on a wet footpath, and she continues to do so despite the chill and drizzle which threatens to become a steady rain.”
“But to what end?” I asked. “She seems to have no purpose.”
“Oh, she has a purpose, for with each turn she steals a peek at our window,” Joanna explained, just as the woman performed such an act. “Her purpose is us, you see, for she wishes to visit and no doubt seek our help, but is hesitant to do so. We are looking at a most worried and determined woman.”
“But why then does she hesitate?” I asked.
“There are two likely reasons,” Joanna replied. “She either feels her problem does not carry the gravity to interest us or she fears she does not have sufficient funds to pay for our services.”
“Which do you favor?” my father queried.
“I never guess. It is a shocking habit which is destructive to logical reasoning,” she stated, before pointing a finger to the street below. “Ah, she makes her move now. We shall have the answer to your question shortly.”
“If either of your reasons is correct, we should at least give the poor woman a hearing,” my father proposed.
Joanna shrugged indifferently. “Any port in a storm, Watson.”
I had to nod at my wife’s words, for there had been a definite, prolonged lull in criminal activity over the past month. Other than the occasional shop burglary, the newspapers had reported no notable felonies, and Scotland Yard had not called even once to enlist our services. It was as if the criminal element of London had gone on holiday. I easily filled the open time with my work as an assistant professor of pathology at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, while my father busied himself chronicling another, but as yet unpublished, mystery of Sherlock Holmes. Joanna, on the other hand, sat at the fireplace moodily and puffed on cigarettes or paced about aimlessly, for she abhorred the dull routine of our current existence. She required challenging work which necessitated the use of her finely tuned brain. The more difficult the problem, the more exaltation she felt at its solution. My father told me that Sherlock Holmes behaved in a similar fashion when his mind was stagnant, and that this trait as well seemed to run in the family’s genes.
My thoughts were interrupted by a gentle rap on the door, followed by the entrance of our landlady, Miss Hudson, who announced, “I am afraid there is an early-morning visitor to see you. She is most insistent and refuses to return at a more convenient hour.”
“The woman with the walking stick?” Joanna asked.
“It is she,” Miss Hudson replied. “Were you expecting her?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Joanna answered. “Please be good enough to show her up.”
Moments later we heard footsteps on the stairs, each producing a characteristic creak as the climber slowly ascended. Each step was followed by another, the later accompanied by the tapping sound of a walking stick.
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
