The Strange Return of Sherlock Holmes by Barry Grant

is small, but thorough. It is my belief that the book was owned by Mr Jenkins. His whole house is full of books. It is unusual that a murderer would bring reading material to a crime.’ Bundle laughed, and took a sip.
    â€˜In this case the murderer did,’ said Coombes.
    The smile fell off of Bundle’s face. ‘Do you think so, sir?’
    â€˜I have a theory that may interest you,’ said Coombes, coolly.
    â€˜Ah, theories are well, theories are good,’ said Bundle, his optimism and self-confidence instantly returning. ‘Theories always interest me. But in the end what we need are practical results, Mr Coombes. Practical results – that is what our citizens always crave and cry for.’
    â€˜Sometimes theories lead to practical results,’ said Coombes.
    â€˜Books seldom provide much evidence at crime scenes,’ said Bundle. ‘That’s my theory. That is why I ignored that book.’
    â€˜I’m afraid you were right,’ said Coombes. ‘The book disappointed me.’
    Bundle laughed, gesturing with a thick and rosy hand. ‘Well, there you are, sir,’ he said.
    â€˜Still, my research into the book has not proved entirely barren,’ said Coombes.
    â€˜Did it reveal something?’ asked Bundle sceptically, curiously, nervously, raising a large bushy eyebrow.
    â€˜Not as much as I had hoped,’ said Coombes.
    Bundle grinned. ‘Well, I thought as much.’
    â€˜It only revealed,’ said Holmes, ‘that the murderer is an actor with dark hair who very likely has lived in Afghanistan, spent his youthful years in North America, received his later education in England, and now lives in or near London. The book also suggests that he travelled from London to Hay-on-Wye by train and by bus, that he made this journey sometime since last Saturday, that he is methodical, highly educated, despises the present US Government of George W. Bush, and probably owns a very distinctive automobile – perhaps a vintage car.’
    â€˜My heavens!’ cried Bundle. ‘Did he write his entire life story in the margins?’
    â€˜He wrote two brief marginal notes, commenting on the text.’
    Glancing over Coombes’s shoulder I saw that the book was titled Abu Ghraib: Torture and Betrayal . On the cover was that famous picture – that all the world has seen and that has brought such discredit upon the United States of America – of a man standing awkwardly on a stool of some sort, wearing a black robe and a black hood, with wires attached to his body, as he is being tortured by US troops.
    The picture aroused all my memories of the war, and a cold bolt of fear shot through my heart, surprising me. I was almost trembling. ‘My God, Coombes!’ I murmured. ‘Then here is the significance of the black hood you found in the bushes . . .’
    â€˜Exactly!’ cried Coombes, and his eyes flashed.
    â€˜What do you mean?’ asked Bundle.
    Out of a plastic shopping bag by his chair Coombes pulled the black hood made from a pillow slip. ‘I have examined this,’ he said, ‘and found in it two hairs that match the strand of hair I found in the book. Also, actor’s pancake make-up smeared on the inside of this hood will, I suspect, match smears of make-up that can be detected on pages thirty-eight and two hundred and thirteen of the book. Evidently on two occasions he inadvertently touched his face before turning a page.’
    â€˜I cannot imagine how you deduced all of these things from a book,’ said Bundle, looking earnest, bewildered, and slightly defeated.
    â€˜A cursory and quite superficial glance at the book reveals all I have mentioned,’ said Coombes. ‘That the man is an actor is suggested not only by the pancake make-up and the dramatic manner in which the crime was carried out, but by the fact that both of the pencilled marginal notes refer to the theatre. The