Free The Baker Street Translation by Michael Robertson Page B

know yet, but we’re going to check it out.” Wembley turned and gestured for the young officer to come over.
    â€œMeachem,” said Wembley, “This is your lucky day. When the club opens, you get to interview the young ladies. I’d do it myself, but I’m just too damn busy.”
    â€œThank you, guv,” said Meachem. “I’ll do my best.”
    â€œI know you will,” said Wembley.
    The officer went back to his position.
    â€œOf course,” said Wembley to Reggie, “it’s possible our victim never made it that far.”
    â€œI agree, given the steep stairs,” said Reggie. “Although he might have done, if you gave him all evening to do it. From what I know of him, he was a very determined man. But I think he was a little old for this to have been his destination. Are you sure the body hasn’t been moved?”
    â€œForensics is checking on that. But I don’t accept your premise. You can’t get too old for a good strip club,” said Wembley. “And the dancers are friendlier when they think you’re harmless. Or so I hear.”
    Reggie nodded. “They’re most friendly when you have cash in your pocket. Or so I hear. Does he have a roll of five-pound notes in his pocket?”
    â€œNo. Just seventy-two pence in change.”
    â€œThen either he was misinformed about how strip clubs work or the body was moved. Or perhaps he was in Piccadilly for some other reason.”
    â€œOr he was robbed before he could get inside, as I said. His wallet is gone.”
    â€œThe man came all the way from Taiwan on a point of honor,” said Reggie. “It would surprise me if he’d been trying to spend his one evening here at a strip club.”
    â€œWouldn’t surprise me a bit,” said Wembley. “But I’m guessing you know something you haven’t told me.”
    â€œHe was doing some contract work, remotely, for someone here in London. Translating some mundane nursery rhyme twaddle. But he was having trouble getting paid.”
    â€œAnd he consulted a barrister for that?”
    Reggie shrugged. He wasn’t about to tell Wembley that someone had come to him thinking he was Sherlock Holmes.
    â€œNot everyone understands our clever division of labor between barristers and solicitors,” said Reggie. “He just needed a lawyer.”
    â€œSo what’s your theory?”
    â€œI don’t have one yet. He did ask about going to see a show. And I don’t mean the kind upstairs. There are theaters nearby; I suppose he might have taken the tube to see a stage play in Piccadilly, then got lost walking back afterward, and ended up here in Soho.”
    â€œMaybe,” said Wembley. “The divine and the decadent do tend to be right next to each other in this part of the city. But I think Mousetrap is playing too far away for your theory, if that’s the one he saw. Any other ideas?”
    â€œJust one: He confronted his nonpaying client and got killed for his trouble.”
    â€œAnd they chose an alley in Soho for their business meeting?”
    â€œI can’t explain the location. But it’s not uncommon for remote workers to get stiffed. Happens a lot. The big companies just stonewall the smaller contractors and tell them to bugger off. Cases that come to me are much higher up the corporate food chain, of course. But it’s an annoying sort of behavior, at any level.”
    â€œI think you’re making more of it than it is, Heath. But do you have a name for this nonpaying client?”
    â€œWhen I get back to my office, I can send you both the name and the postal box address his employer was using.”
    â€œSend it on, then.”
    Wembley started to turn away.
    Reggie hesitated, still staring down at Mr. Liu’s body.
    â€œWas there something else?” asked Wembley.
    â€œNo,” said Reggie.
    â€œStep back, then. You’ll hear from me if we have