The Tale of the Latin in his cups with Red Sox

My dear Holmes,

It is your most humble petitioner, Inspector Lestrade. It has been many months since I have last requested your assistance in the troubling matter of the disappearance of Lord Douchebag which you might not recall as it happened what has become many years ago. However today I must enquire about an offshoot of that regrettable incident. 

You will of course recall the matter of Lady Chatterley and her paramour the Gardener who had set up a salon which the last locale the Lord Douchebag had be seen by reliable witnesses. The yard had sent young Inspector Gregson to reconnoiter and perhaps to insert himself into their comity. As you will recall it seems that young Gregson had inserted himself into the wrong place as he resigned from the yard and is living in bachelor quarters with a swarthy sepoy lieutenant and two rather ugly spaniels. Much the same situation as you and Dr Watson. But we need not dwell on that.

 

In any event a strange report has surfaced about the salon of Lady Chatterley. It seems she has expelled all of the toady’s and lickspittles who comprised her close companions and acquaintances. They had curried favor and praised her most eccentric views for many a years in an attitude of obeisance and featly worthy of a Hindu worshiping a dairy cow. It seems that this was not enough and Lady Chatterley has expelled them all from her salon and out into the night. They were devastated and confused and can be found wandering in the streets of Whitechapel even as we speak.

 

I would like you opinion if I should make enquiry  as to why this occurred. Was there some precipitating event or has her ladyship reached her dotage and is beyond the keen of normal folk. From your last missive I gather you feel she is dangerous and might have something to do with the strange disappearance of Lord Douchebag. You will remember that you thought we should look into her gardener cum lover who was often seen digging in the garden in the dark of night. There is something not quite right about him.

 

I do have one lead to follow up. It seems that some of the dispersed band

of acolytes have found succor in the inn of a dubious character from the Americas. He is a swarthy Latin type know for late night muisical musings intoxicated while wearing a cap and red sox. The tenor of their meetings have been rum soaked yet jovial and the smoke filled room has been described as a more convivial and healthy abode. I would beseech you to visit and give me your evaluation using the scientific method of deduction that has proven so helpful these past few years.

My best to Doctor Watson who I know is recovering from an attack of the piles that torment him so. I know he had recently spent a week in the country with your brother Mycroft and his attacks always seem to come

as soon as he returns. Perhaps there is some connection.

I remain as always,
Your obedient servant,
Inspector G. Lestrade
Scotland Yard
October 19, 1899