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    The Stockbroker's Wife
    The Stockbroker's Wife
    The Stockbroker's Wife
    Ebook38 pages38 minutes

    The Stockbroker's Wife

    By Anna Castle

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    About this ebook

    Professor Moriarty commits a small fraud to expose a larger one.

    A young stockbroker brings a dilemma to the Moriartys which can best be solved by a quiet substitution. Professor Moriarty will turn up for the new position at the dubious investment bank, while the stockbroker spends his days in Russell Square. Moriarty uncovers a dastardly scheme, but the stockbroker's wife, alarmed by her husband's altered behavior, hires Sherlock Holmes to investigate. The two rivals confront one another in the midst of a carefully planned caper.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAnna Castle
    Release dateJun 28, 2018
    ISBN9781386284376
    The Stockbroker's Wife
    Author

    Anna Castle

    Anna Castle writes the Francis Bacon mysteries and the Lost Hat, Texas mysteries. She has earned a series of degrees -- BA in the Classics, MS in Computer Science, and a PhD in Linguistics -- and has had a corresponding series of careers -- waitressing, software engineering, grammar-writing, assistant professor, and archivist. Writing fiction combines her lifelong love of stories and learning. She physically resides in Austin, Texas and mentally counts herself a queen of infinite space.

    Read more from Anna Castle

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      Book preview

      The Stockbroker's Wife - Anna Castle

      London, May 1887

      I believe we have a new client, darling. Angelina turned from the window, twisting half around in a way that accentuated the absurdity of her fashionable walking dress. Its bustle extended so far she looked like a centaur draped in cascades of blue-checked silk — a very feminine centaur, with twinkling amber eyes and chestnut curls piled atop her head. Still, one expected to find that second little pair of feet poking out beneath the flounces.

      James Moriarty closed his book over his thumb to lend his full attention to his wife. They’d been married more than a year, yet he never tired of watching her. She managed to make the extreme fashions of the day seem a natural part of a woman’s charm. He never ceased to marvel that such a rare creature had chosen to share his life.

      He also never doubted her assessments of people. What does he want? Or is it a woman?

      Man, not woman, but I can’t deduce much from the top of a hat and a shilly-shally pace. He’s a City man, judging by the sober Prince Albert overcoat and the newspaper tucked under his arm. Something to do with money, one supposes, since that’s your specialty. At any rate, you’d best put aside your book. He’s finally persuaded himself to climb the steps.

      Moriarty replaced his thumb with a leather bookmark as the door knocker sounded downstairs. Voices murmured on the ground floor, and moments later their young footman ushered the visitor into the sitting room. A Mr. Richard Barrett to see you, Perfessor.

      A youngish man of average height in a conservatively cut black suit stood in the doorway, a doubtful smile quirking his lips. He wore his brown hair closely cropped with brushy sideburns, a short moustache, and a clean chin.

      As the footman bowed and left, Moriarty rose, extending his hand. I’m James Moriarty, and this is my wife. The men shook hands, and the visitor bowed his head toward Angelina.

      What can we do you for you, Mr. Barrett? she asked.

      I need advice, Professor. I’m caught on the horns of a rather peculiar dilemma and can’t see my way clear. My aunt, Mary Peacock, suggested I consult you about it. His gaze shifted doubtfully toward Angelina. I should note that the matter is highly confidential. The reputations of honest men may be at risk.

      Moriarty smiled blandly. You may rely on my wife’s discretion, as I rely upon her good judgment. He could only imagine Angelina’s response to being shooed out of the room while the men conversed. He’d have to move into his club until the conflagration abated.

      Barrett nodded. "I meant no disrespect, Mrs. Moriarty. I only hope my story won’t be too tiresome for you. I’m a

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