FanStory.com - The Adventures of Justin Thymeby lancellot

Twenty knelt and leaned over the dead body; he sniffed the corpse from head to toe. Next, he lifted the man’s arms and bent his elbows and knees. When he was done with that, he tapped and pushed on his stomach, opened his eyelids and mouth, checked his pockets, and finally, his empty coin purse. Twenty noted that his belt was unbuckled. He pulled the man’s pants down, nodded, and then pulled them back up.

Twenty stood and turned to a shabby-looking deputy standing a few feet away. “You are the one who found him?”

“Yeah, me and Harry stumbled across him. He was already dead though, so I sends Harry to get the sheriff; I did.”

“Did you touch him or leave him while your partner was gone?” Twenty asked, his eyes never leaving the man’s face.

“No, young… um, no, I didn’t touch ‘em nor leave ‘em.” The deputy turned his eyes to the silent sheriff standing to his right. “He is just as I found him; he is. I swear it, Sheriff.”

Twenty nodded, then looked around the filthy alley they were in. A huge dark rat slowly scuttled by, completely unafraid of being seen by human eyes. Twenty looked above him and spied four darkened open windows. Twenty took a quick inhale and then noticed the dry waste channel leading to the sewers. He walked to the wall closest to the corpse, pressed his nose against it, and inhaled again before turning his deep brown eyes back to the deputy.

“It’s Frank, correct?”

“Yeah,” Frank answered, a scowl forming on his face. “Deputy Frank Murty.”

Twenty held his face blank and expressionless. “Deputy 3rd Class Frank Murty.”

“Aye,” answered Frank, and then he spat onto the cobblestone ground.

“Right, Mr. Murty, it is important to be precise and factual when conducting an investigation.” Twenty walked back to the body. “For instance, look at the deceased. Notice his upscale attire. Pretty sharp for this area of London, wouldn’t you say, Deputy Frank?”

“I wouldn’t know,” replied Frank as he folded his large muscled arms across his equally massive chest.

“No?” Twenty asked, folding his small teen arms across his narrow chest. “This is your patrol area. So you’re not telling us,” Twenty tilted his head at the sheriff, “that you don’t know the area you’ve been assigned to for three years, are you, Deputy 3rd Class?”

Frank glanced at the still silent sheriff, then he swallowed. “I guess he’s not a regular to these parts.” Frank turned his head and looked behind him. He saw three large deputies from the Yard, who appeared to be just hanging out at the opening of the dead-end alley.

“Hmm.” Twenty nodded his head while staring at the deputy. “Frankie, why would such a distinguished-looking fellow be in these parts to use your words?”

“Who knows, maybe cheap drinking, cheap drugs, or something.” He glanced behind him once more. “Look, I mostly break up fights and keep drunks away from the stores and such. My partner, Harry, will tell you how it is. He should be….”

“He’s not, Murty. So, you can stop looking. He’s at the Yard giving a statement. We had the good fortune of running into him before coming here, and he was… very forthcoming.”

“Let me tell you what I know and what I suspect.” Twenty knelt at the body again. “His name was Vanhorn, Richard Vanhorn. He worked as a manager at the Merchants Bank on the other side of town. Not a particularly big bank, but not a small one either. I saw him in the paper a few months back when he married. His wife is, how should I put it, on the larger side of fat, about your weight but half your height and no muscles. I hear she hails from a good family with an important name.”

“I don’t see…,” started Frank.

“Of course, you don’t, Deputy 3rd Class.” Twenty pointed to the dead man’s shoes. “But I see one shoe on a man with moderately expensive clothes. I also see a small man with unusually large feet. His purse and pockets are empty, and one of his expensive shoes was removed but then tossed aside as if someone had changed their mind about taking them. I doubt he would remove his shoe in such a grimy alley, wouldn’t you agree?” Twenty pointed at Frank’s own old and worn shoes. “Looks like you two are about the same size too. How about that?”

Frank Murty glanced behind him; there were now five deputies, and they were a lot closer than before.

“This is your patrol area, Deputy Murty, and you know it well. You mentioned the cheap booze and drugs, but you skipped another popular aspect of your area… the cheap whores.” He pointed at the corpse’s crotch. “Richard not only had big feet; he had a big cum crusted cock. I know because I checked. Which do you think he was the proudest of?”

Murty’s eyes were swimming wildly in his head, but he held his trembling lips shut.

Twenty stood and walked over to the sweating big man. “I’m betting it was his unusually large cock. I’m betting he came down here to put it between a much nicer pair of thighs than what his huge wife has, judging by the leakage on his pants and the perfume on the wall. I’d say he found what he was looking for. That’s what I know, Frank.”

Twenty was on his toes and glaring directly up and into Frank’s face, so much so that the larger man tried to take a few steps back. But, before he bumped into one of the seven deputies that blocked his retreat, he only got one step.

“Now for what I suspect.” Twenty held out a hand, and the sheriff placed a pair of black-iron handcuffs in it. “Please, correct me if I miss anything. I suspect the price the whore asked for was two, maybe three, silver pieces upfront. The standard cost to fuck a normal-sized prick in these parts. Richard paid, and the whore raised her skirt and grabbed her ankles, but something happened that she didn’t expect. Something she was not paid the appropriate fee for. The small of stature Richard Vanhorn slammed a ten-inch piece of meat deep into her stomach, and she let out one hell of a cry. A scream that made the normally apathetic residents open their windows and gawk.” Twenty slowly twirled a finger, motioning for Frank to turn around. “Of course, it also caused her pimp, or do you prefer protector, to come running. I’m betting when you arrived; you saw your whore struggling up against the wall, wailing away like a country virgin. I can’t blame her; she was getting hammered by a man stuck screwing with his eyes closed for the last two months. He threw his head back in ecstasy and shot his load just as you tried to give him a glancing blow. You missed the mark by inches. His skull cracked, he fell back, and unbeknownst to you.”

Twenty pointed to a line of dried white semen on Frank’s pants leg. “His last spurt before dying landed on your knee.”

Frank looked down, and his eyes grew wide as he saw the small stain on his black pants. The big man sighed and closed his eyes.

“That stuff really does get everywhere, doesn’t it?” Twenty looked at the body. “Yeah, you pulled his pants back up, emptied his coin purse, and hoped to pass it off as a robbery. The onlookers know who and what you are. You probably didn’t even need to threaten them to keep them quiet. I hear it’s a cultural thing around these parts. Am I right?”

Frank wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes were glossed over, and his lips twitched. “It’s not like I tried to kill him.” His voice was low and full of regret. “I just hit him in the wrong spot, is all. I thought he was raping Della; I did. You can ask….” He looked up at the windows that suddenly slammed shut one by one. “Anyhow, he was dead when I noticed his shoes. I ain’t never had a pair like ‘em; so, I starts to take ‘em, but….”

“Della stopped you. Even whores know fashion. Smart, they would have been a dead giveaway. Pardon the pun,” Twenty added.

Frank shrugged. “Well, I took his money for the pain he caused Della; even give her half, I did.” Frank turned and put his hands behind his back.

Twenty gently put the cuffs on the ex-deputy. “It was an accident; perhaps the Magistrate will conclude the same. If Della and one or two neighbors testify, he may go easy on you.” Twenty glanced at the sheriff.

The older man closed his eyes and shook his head.

Frank was being walked to a waiting wagon just as the sheriff pulled out his pocket watch. Sheriff Thyme nodded and then turned to his grandson. “Well, it looks like that took twenty minutes on the nose. He put an arm around the boy and ruffled his brown hair. “Once more, you’ve earned your name. How you can solve a case in twenty minutes, I don’t know.”

“Or twenty days; you always forget that.” Twenty grinned and removed the hand from his head. “Anyway, you owe me that paid trip to Madam Seles’s now, Gramps.”

“Ha, when you’re 16 and not a day sooner. It’s the law. You always forget that, Justin. Two weeks more, then you’ll get your first taste of heaven. I swear, your mother already thinks you spend too much time around the boys at the Yard as it is.”

The sun was rising over London when a young deputy ran up to the pair. “Begging your pardon, Sheriff; a messenger from the Duke came to the Yard. He said there was an incident at the Duke’s estate. His Grace wants you and your best inspector to come right away.”

Sheriff Thyme looked at his grandson. “Damn, this may take some explaining.”

Twenty smiled. It was a twenty-minute ride to the Duke’s estate. He was sure he’d have a suitable explanation by then.