The Casebook of Doakes and Haig

Foreward
Mystery and fantasy may appear to be unlikely bedfellows. A typical mystery, after all, relies on logic and analysis to establish and maintain the story line. Fantasy requires imagination and suspension of disbelief if it is to hold the reader's interest.
Yet there are precedents for "fantasy detectives" if you will (ignoring the obvious that Sherlock Holmes and other fictional characters are in a very real sense always "fantasy"). If you wish, you can go as far back as Poe's "Murders on the Rue Morgue" to cite a "fantastic" mystery. I prefer to go no further than Randall Garrett's series with Lord Darcy and Master Sean. These characters and their alternative universe are direct inspirations for Mssrs. Doakes and Haig, who reside and practice in a universe of their own, an England which remains a colonial power around the world.
Investigating and expanding their particular reality has been a delight for me. It has also been a continuing matter of discovery as I have chronicled their adventures over the five stories and one novelette in this collection. Four of their cases - A Small Matter of Murder, Savage Customs, Murderous Obligations and Cat's Moon Rising - have appeared in Alternate Realities. In completing this anthology, I have slightly revised the earlier episodes to correspond to what has developed later in the backgrounds of the characters, specifically Mr. Haig.
Sharp-eyed readers of those stories might catch these minor revisions. For me, revising is a never-ending process in any event. I doubt there is one piece of writing I have ever published that, when I read it in print or on the 'net or wherever, I didn't want to go back and tweak this or that. And I suspect most writers are the same way.
Anyway, you're probably eager to get into the actual casebook of Doakes and Haig.



A SMALL MATTER OF MURDER

The tinkle of the bell roused me from my crossword puzzle. I glanced at the clock as I made my way from the back room to the front of my store. Only two hours had passed since my last customer ...this was turning into a good day after all. I paused at the curtain to straighten my coat and don my friendliest smile, then parted it to greet my visitor.
My smile widened when I saw Mrs. McLeary. As regular as clockwork she was, once a month making her painful way from the upper West End to my little shop. "And how are we this lovely day?" I asked as I reached for a jar of Doakes and Haig Recipe Sweetener.
"It's this hip," she patted her left side. "The rheumatism does rage like the wind on damp days like this."
I carefully wrapped the jar of condiment in newspaper before setting it in a box. "If you wish we could post your order each month. Save you the trip and all."
"I don't mind. A body does need to get out on occasion." She reached forward and pinched my cheek. "So like your father you are, bless his soul." She carefully set seven pence on the counter. "He would be proud he would. Children these days, so eager to fly out on their own. Never mind the family or tradition. Shame it is."
"Indeed." I maintained my smile until the door closed softly but surely behind her. Mrs. McLeary, bless the dear old lady, had yet to realize after all these years prices for everything had inevitably and inexorably risen. I didn't have the heart to ask for more, being as she was on a fixed income and all, but I knew I would hear about it anyway.
I set the seven pence in the cash register where they could safely enjoy their near solitude, then studied my reflection in the polished silver of the old machine. Children indeed. Thirty-five I was now, looking every day of it and more. Just so I could carry on the "family tradition." I glanced at the clock once more. Just past two. I could be confident I would see no more customers for at least another hour. Preparing myself for what was to come, I want to the back to talk with Haig.
As per usual, he was hard at work in the kitchen. On the stove a huge kettle boiled merrily away, reducing a leg of lamb to bits of meat and suet.