About the Author: Chris Chan is a writer and educator. He is a researcher and "International Goodwill Ambassador" for Agatha Christie Ltd., and writes for Gilbert! and The Strand. He is also the author of the Funderburke mystery series.
“See him?” Battlecruiser Barry jabbed a finger with a cracked, filthy nail at the pub window, pointing at the dignified-looking doctor hurrying down the street.
Florrie leaned forward, causing Battlecruiser to involuntarily recoil backwards. Six years earlier, when women of Florrie’s profession were being slaughtered on the streets of Whitechapel, a rumor circulated that Jack the Ripper had come up to her, taken one whiff of Florrie’s breath, and then run away screaming. A slightly nastier version of the rumor suggested that Florrie’s halitosis had proved lethal, which is why the Ripper’s reign of terror finally ended.
“Oh, I know him—his picture used to be in the papers all the time. Not so much now that his friend’s dead and he’s spending all his time seeing patients instead of solving crimes.” Florrie shuddered. “So sad about his friend. Such a brilliant man. Terrible that he fell off that cliff in Switzerland three years ago.”
“Yes … fell …” Battlecruiser put special stress on the second word.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Mean by what?” Battlecruiser tried to look innocent. It didn’t suit him.
“You were being very coy when you say ‘fell’. Of course, it wasn’t an accident. He went off the cliff because of his fight with that professor, didn’t he?”
Battlecruiser shrugged. “Well, that’s the official line.”