The Circle Code Conundrum

By Allison Osborne

With two weeks in a new home, and a solved murder, under their belt, Irene and Joe are eager for another mystery. When Eddy brings them a curious case involving a jumbled circular message, they jump in with both feet. But as they attempt to crack the cipher, they uncover a dark past of a seemingly innocent young woman and a cover-up that may put them both in grave danger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MX Publishing
• Release date: Jul 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781787059689

Book preview

The Circle Code Conundrum

Chapter I: A Man with A Message

Irene Holmes tapped her desk in an impatient rhythm, desperately trying to remember the melody of the old Wagner piece before it escaped her head. At that moment, 221B Baker Street was quiet as both Miss Hudson and Joe were out. This gave her ample time to recall the piece – or try to, at least.

Frustrated, Irene spun in the chair, pulling her housecoat tight, and glared at the small flat. At times like these, she wished for the violin she’d tossed into the river in a dramatic tantrum last year when she’d lost the sheet music to her father’s favourite Paganini piece.

She regretted it the following day and was grateful she’d taken her anger out on an old practice violin and not the Stradivarius passed down to her. That particular beauty was kept at her father’s farm, far away, and Irene had no desire to retrieve it any time soon. Perhaps she’d purchase a replacement for the lost one at some point, now that she was settled back at Baker Street.

She resumed her tapping, more out of agitation rather than a recall of a tune. That was when the front door downstairs opened, carrying in the voices of Doctor Joe Watson and Miss Hudson.

Joe climbed the stairs, heavy wet shoes thumping on each of the steps. Irene counted them out of habit. When Joe reached the seventeenth step, he rounded the corner and took off his hat. He hung it on one of the small hooks outside the open door, right above his jacket.

He entered the flat, bringing the smell of the warm, damp weather outside. His hair, turned more ginger as summer got underway, sat on his sweat-covered head like a ruffled mop. His sleeves were pushed up in typical fashion, with the silver square scar on his forearm glinting in the light.

White powder dusted his brown waistcoat, small amounts clouding around him with every step he took. The substance dotted his sleeves and the top parts of his trousers, adding to his whole dishevelled appearance.

Did Miss Hudson seek you out? Irene asked. Or did she catch you as you walked by the bakers?

Joe raised an eyebrow in confusion as he headed to the small kitchenette. She called to me in line at the bakers. How-

I wonder why she needs extra flour? Irene mumbled to herself. It’s neither mine, yours, nor Eddy’s birthdays coming up, so it’s not for a cake.

Joe filled a glass with water, taking a few sips. What are you talking about?

Irene sighed. Miss Hudson bought extra flour today at the shop and had you carry the bags home. I am curious as to why.

Her partner nodded slowly, staring blankly. You’re right. She called me in as I passed by the baker’s. Had me use my own ration book to get as much flour as the baker would allow. And she did the same. There’s rumours that they are going to ration the wheat due to all the rain, so Miss Hudson wanted to have a substantial reserve in case that happened. I told her it would be a very grave time should they announce bread rationing, especially with the war now ended. After a slight pause and a crinkle between his brows, Joe asked, How did you know I carried extra flour home?

You are out of breath, Irene supplied. The tendons in your arms are bulging from carrying something heavy. And, most importantly, you’re covered in it.

Joe looked at his clothes and let out a surprised gasp. He set his glass on the counter and hurried into the hall, leaving the door open. Irene heard him smacking his clothes as undoubtedly the white powder circled all around him.

Why did you not mention all the flour before I stepped into the flat?

She shrugged, now watching him from her desk. You were thirsty and I didn’t want to interrupt your drink.

Joe kept wiping his clothes, twisting and bending about himself, making sure he got all of the flour off. Once satisfied, he entered the flat again, even more dishevelled than before.

Sometimes, I’m genuinely impressed with your observations and your ability to deduce facts. And other times, the observation is so simple that I don’t feel like awarding you praise.

Your astonishment at my simple observations are all the praise I need.

They exchanged sly smirks between one another. Their teasing had become commonplace quite quickly as their first few weeks as flatmates went on. Irene was pleased that they’d each slid into their own routines so swiftly and efficiently.

Miss Hudson cooked and tidied. Joe read his novels and more recently took to passing by an animal shelter being built a few blocks away. Irene spent the dreary days moving from the couch to Joe’s chair, then back to the couch, staring at their new investigation board that took up space by the door.

In the present moment, Joe walked by the board and rapped his knuckles on the few pieces of paper stuck in the corner.

Still nothing? He sunk into his chair, crossing his ankles.

Still nothing. Irene scooted her desk chair to the board and looked up at the papers. The tall American lady with the fake accent who’d been a part of those murders a few weeks ago remained a mystery that wouldn’t quit puzzling her. Neither would the numbers on the back of her pin. She’d made no headway on either mystery, so the papers – one with the lady’s description and the other with the code – were pinned to the board to pour over day after day.

Irene stood, gazing out the window. The rain had started two weeks ago and hadn’t let up since. The dull weather didn’t bother her much, but everyone else seemed to hate it.

She traced the path of a raindrop down the cool glass as she heard Miss Hudson enter the room behind her.

Irene turned and quickly grabbed the tea tray that the older woman balanced in her hands. She set it on the coffee table, eager to pour herself a cup.

Thank you, Hen, Miss Hudson said. You get up to anything exciting while we were out?

Irene frowned, recalling her attempt at humming the Wagner piece in its entirety. Not a damn thing, Miss Hudson. I do hear, though, that you believe they’re going to ration flour and bread?

Please don’t curse, dear. She wagged her finger. There have been whispers through all my lady friends that the rain has ruined the wheat and they’re taking away our flour. Mrs. Keller told me straight to my face and she would know all about what they’re doing with the food.

Why would she know? Joe asked.

Irene hid her smile behind her teacup, watching her poor flatmate walk right into a disaster.

Well, have you seen her? Miss Hudson exclaimed.

No, Joe said. What does she look like?

Irene choked on her sip of tea.

Thank you, Miss Hudson, she said between coughs. That’s quite enough gossip for today.

Don’t get too smug, Missy. The housekeeper wagged her finger