Free Lost and Gone Forever by Alex Grecian

poetry, too.”
    “Can’t figure the meaning in poems. Thanks, but no thanks.”
    “Suit yourself,” Day said. “But these poems are funny. Do you know the alphabet?”
    “Some. I know the shapes.”
    “Here’s a nonsense alphabet. You might like that.”
    “I appreciate the thought, guv, but I’m only smart about some things.”
    Day sat on the sofa beside Ambrose. “Here,” he said, “do you know this letter?”
    “Oh, I seen this before.” Ambrose pointed at a small illustration of a cat. “That letter means
cat
, and it means
cigar
, too. But it should mean
moon
, ’cause that’s what it looks like, right?”
    “‘C was a cat who ran after a rat; but his courage did fail when she seized on his tail. Crafty old cat!’”
    “That is a bit funny. That’s a way to go about teaching a thing. Make it so it’s not boring. Lemme see.” Ambrose took the book from Day and leafed through it. “That don’t look right, that picture.”
    “Why not?”
    “I mean, that letter looks all wrong to spell the word
shrubbery
. Ain’t what I remember.”
    “Because that letter is a
Y
, and the illustration there is of a yew. A yew tree. ‘Y was a yew, which flourished and grew by a quiet abode near the side of a road. Dark little yew!”
    “Dark little you?”
    “Exactly right.”

13
    W e can’t turn him away,” Hatty said. “We can’t afford to.”
    “What does . . .” But Hammersmith suddenly decided it wasn’t worth arguing with her. He closed his mouth and waved his hand at her, hoping she’d leave his office and go bother Eugenia instead.
    She didn’t. “We have one client and we haven’t made progress in a year on that case, and he was your friend and I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry to put it so bluntly, but we need more clients and we need more work and I’m sure we need more money coming in.” She paused for breath, but before Hammersmith could say anything, she started again. “
I
need more work. I’m as good as any man at all this; I just need the chance to actually do something.”
    Hammersmith waited to be sure she was finished. After a moment of strained silence, he nodded. “He was my friend. He
is
my friend. This agency, such as it is, exists for only one reason, and that’s to find Walter Day and return him to his family.”
    “For all we know he’s dead.” Hatty’s eyes widened, and sheswallowed hard. “Oh, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. Sometimes I just talk and things come out that I didn’t ever intend.”
    “No, you’re right. He may be dead.” Hammersmith looked away at the stacks of papers that dominated his office. “He may be.” He looked back up at her. “But we have no evidence that he is dead, and so we must assume that he’s alive and needs our help. And if he’s dead, if he’s really gone, then we need to find that out and settle the issue for Claire. She has four children, and the uncertainty is hard on her.”
It’s hard on all of us,
he thought.
    “May I begin again in some way that isn’t so rude?”
    “No, I understand your frustration and I appreciate your honesty. Just as I appreciate your help here. But I can’t handle more clients. I have to think about Walter right now. Anything else would be . . .” He broke off again and waggled his fingers in the air, this time dismissing all the hypothetical cases he couldn’t deal with. “Go back to his home and look again for more clues.”
    “I’ve been there a hundred times. Or at least a dozen. And I’ve been to the pub he used to frequent, and I’ve been to Scotland Yard so much that they don’t even talk to me anymore there. There’s nothing I can do, and you don’t have time to work on the Hargreave case. So let me keep at it, let me do the investigation.”
    “This is more involved than the usual sort of thing you do,” Hammersmith said.
    “Yes, it is,” she said. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle, I promise.”
    “And if I need you here?”
    “If