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"But my dear chap, I confess I'm suprised you have failed to mention the infamous Anitnegra Affair - a story for which, like the Giant Rat of Sumatra, I suspect the world is not yet prepared."
"The Anitnegra Affair?" I exclaimed, "But I don't believe you have ever..."
"Oh, my dear fellow, how remiss of me. Do forgive me. It must have occured during one of your many marital sabbaticals. I do declare, now that I think about it, that it comes very close to your definition of the perfect crime."
"Pray tell me the details," I said, reaching for the pad that was never far from my hand, ready for just such a recollection in tranquility.
"It was the rather sordid story of a purveyor of imported meats who became jealous of his partner. One evening in the warehouse there was a passionate altercation and the wretched fellow struck and killed his partner with a frozen steak, which he then proceeded to cook and eat - thus effectively destroying the evidence."
"But, Holmes, how was he brought to justice?"
"Oh, that was simple enough," my friend replied. "The man literally signed his crime. There was a livid mark on the corpse's head which read 'ANITNEGRA'."
"ANITNEGRA? You mean that was the murderer's name?"
"Oh, no. ANITNEGRA is simply ARGENTINA spelt backwards. The meat had been stamped in it's country of origin and had, so to speak, left it's mark."
"And that was enough to convict him?"
"There was no need to convict him. The meat happened to be spoiled and the murderer died of food poisoning - along with twenty-three other innocent people. It was one of my least distinguished cases and caused me to give up red meat for at least a week... Oh, my dear fellow, I do wish you could see your face!"
And the wretched man sank back into his chair and gave way to a paroxysm of that silent laughter that has often brought me close to throwing something at him.
"That I cannot say," Holmes declared.
Rohmer's face fell.
"The future is a closed book, even to me," continued the retired detective. "For all I am aware, your driver may become distracted on the way back to Newhaven and precipitate you both over the cliff. However, assuming that your Mr. King is a man of his word, Mrs. Rohmer will not grieve because the golden monkeys have refused to give up their secret. The riddle is solved."
"But my dear chap, I confess I'm suprised you have failed to mention the infamous Anitnegra Affair - a story for which, like the Giant Rat of Sumatra, I suspect the world is not yet prepared."
"The Anitnegra Affair?" I exclaimed, "But I don't believe you have ever..."
"Oh, my dear fellow, how remiss of me. Do forgive me. It must have occured during one of your many marital sabbaticals. I do declare, now that I think about it, that it comes very close to your definition of the perfect crime."
"Pray tell me the details," I said, reaching for the pad that was never far from my hand, ready for just such a recollection in tranquility.
"It was the rather sordid story of a purveyor of imported meats who became jealous of his partner. One evening in the warehouse there was a passionate altercation and the wretched fellow struck and killed his partner with a frozen steak, which he then proceeded to cook and eat - thus effectively destroying the evidence."
"But, Holmes, how was he brought to justice?"
"Oh, that was simple enough," my friend replied. "The man literally signed his crime. There was a livid mark on the corpse's head which read 'ANITNEGRA'."
"ANITNEGRA? You mean that was the murderer's name?"
"Oh, no. ANITNEGRA is simply ARGENTINA spelt backwards. The meat had been stamped in it's country of origin and had, so to speak, left it's mark."
"And that was enough to convict him?"
"There was no need to convict him. The meat happened to be spoiled and the murderer died of food poisoning - along with twenty-three other innocent people. It was one of my least distinguished cases and caused me to give up red meat for at least a week... Oh, my dear fellow, I do wish you could see your face!"
And the wretched man sank back into his chair and gave way to a paroxysm of that silent laughter that has often brought me close to throwing something at him.
"That I cannot say," Holmes declared.
Rohmer's face fell.
"The future is a closed book, even to me," continued the retired detective. "For all I am aware, your driver may become distracted on the way back to Newhaven and precipitate you both over the cliff. However, assuming that your Mr. King is a man of his word, Mrs. Rohmer will not grieve because the golden monkeys have refused to give up their secret. The riddle is solved."
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timeasmymeasure
