The Mapplethorpe Challenge

by Jazz Lawless

About the Author: Jazz Lawless is the pseudonym of an Irishman. Despite his name, he likes neither music derived from ragtime and blues nor a general absence of civil order.

Excerpt

This tale begins—and ends, in its way—with Sir Osgood Mapplethorpe. Surely nothing I say of the man shall constitute fresh information to anyone, but in the interests of expediency I shall provide a potted biography, that it may be added to the official record for posterity.

Osgood Mapplethorpe was rich. Exceedingly rich—a millionaire several times over, I believe. He inherited significant wealth from his father, an importer of teas and spices from India. Osgood was born in the East yet schooled in London, and he would likely have been an eager proponent of the Duke of Wellington’s—born in Ireland but resolutely British—famous dictum that “being born in a stable does not make one a horse.” I’m sure our Lord and saviour Jesus Christ—stable-born but famously not a horse—would also subscribe to this theory.

I digress. Osgood struck gold—in a manner of speaking—by investing much of his inheritance in South African mines shortly before the 1868 discovery of deep reserves of diamonds. He chose not to indulge in any extravagances despite his untold riches, living a relatively modest existence in an inherited country estate consisting of six acres just outside London. The house had eleven bedrooms and as many bathrooms, presumably a contingency of design lest a large weekend get-together take a turn for the unthinkable after an ill-prepared meal. It was rumoured of Osgood that he contented himself with inhabiting no more than three or four rooms, all clustered together in a mini-residence on the first floor. The rest of the house lay dormant, gathering dust, virgin terrain to Osgood.

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