Sedgewick Harris Investigates
Through the small kitchen window, the one to the right of the cottage front door, that looks out towards the distant Twelve Pin Mountains and gives the view of lnishdawros, I observed with curiosity the well-dressed, middle-aged man struggle in his efforts to exit from the black car that had quietly pulled up outside. Eventually, he stood on the roadway and, with his left hand leaning for support against the roof of the car, he commenced brushing his jacket with the back of his other hand.
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We Meet Plumpton For The First Time
CHAPTER THREE A young girl came in with a tray laden with a variety of cakes and sandwiches and placed them on the table. ‘Thank you, Peggy, I will look after this, you may go home now. I will see you in the morning.’ When Peggy closed the door behind her, Hilda said,...
We Meet The Widow
CHAPTER TWO It was mid-morning when we headed off in the direction of Clifden. From there we took the road to Letterfrack, skirted round Ballinakill Bay and arrived in the district of Derryinver. ‘What do you think of that, Harris ‒ journey’s end without a hitch?’...
The Man Who Loved Widows
It was the summer of 1954 when the letter addressed to Harris arrived one morning along with my copy of National Geographic. It was not uncommon for him to receive a letter but I sensed by the manner in which he examined the envelope that this particular missive might...
The Galway Races
Through the small kitchen window, the one to the right of the cottage front door, that looks out towards the distant Twelve Pin Mountains and gives the view of lnishdawros, I observed with curiosity the well-dressed, middle-aged man struggle in his efforts to exit...
On Omey Beach
It was raining heavily and the young boy standing at the front door was enveloped in a cape that was at least two sizes too big for him, but it served its purpose and kept him dry. On his head was a postman’s cap which he must have borrowed for the occasion. His...
The Mysterious Room in Oughterard
I had taken to walking to the village of Mannane on my own. It was not by choice but, rather, because of the difficult circumstances that prevailed between myself and Harris. There had been a few demanding days when he’d watched for the postman or Inspector Hennessy’s...
Murder at Louisburgh
It was bitterly cold that December afternoon, in 1953, with the threat of snow as I walked out of the cottage, my head bent low against the wind, and made my way towards Inspector Hennessy’s car. An early darkness had descended and enveloped the countryside but,...
The Strange Affair at Clifden
I have endeavored to put down on paper the details of the extraordinary events as they occurred. The years have not been kind to my memory and sometimes I am confused, and the recollections of those days are as I now remember them. The letter arrived on the 10th....
Chapter 1
‘Good morning,’ he said in a refined, educated voice. ‘Sedgewick Harris?’
‘No. I’m Jonathan.’
‘Of course. My name is Walter Browne and I’m here, on the off chance that Sedgewick Harris might be in.’
He appeared to think I should recognise his name and he noticed the indecision as I frowned and hesitated.
‘I would not call unannounced if the matter to hand was not important.’
He looked anxiously at me. ‘I must speak to him. The Flyer has gone missing.’
I was shocked. ‘In that case you had better come in,’ I replied.
~
He followed me into the front room where Harris was slouched in his armchair, absorbed in his research in Encyclopedia Britannica on articles on the strengths and durability of adhesives and heavens knows what other substances. He looked quizzically at the stranger, not pleased at the interruption.
‘This is Walter Browne and he has come to consult you on a serious matter.’
‘Oh,’ he said, placing the heavy encyclopedia to one side, ‘and what is this serious matter?’
About Sedgewick Harris
42 Chapters
236 Pages In Total
Sedgewick Harris is a 43 year old mathematician who has come to Ireland to stay with his old university professor Jonathan Wilson in Co.Galway. In 1939 Sedgewick attracted the attention of the British Secret Service and was assigned to work on The Enigma Project at Bletchley Park, for the duration of the war. In that extraordinary place his brilliant unorthodox methods did not go unnoticed.
When the war ended he became a private investigator in Balfour Street, Mayfair, London. At first sight he did not inspire confidence. Six feet tall, thin and stooped, he had the appearance of being undernourished, but his remarkable ability, aided by his photographic memory, astonished people and soon he was the talk of that city and his services were much sought after. Unmarried, with few close friends, he is prone to depression.
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