EXCERPT: 'The Crimes of Dr. Watson'

Jan. 30, 2008— -- Looking for a good book to curl up with? Author Duane Swiercyznski stopped by "GMA NOW" to discuss his addition to the Sherlock Holmes legacy, and it's not your average page-turner.

Please find an excerpt of The Crimes of Dr. Watson below:

I receive many strange pieces of mail — both electronic and the old-fashioned variety — at the Philadelphia City Paper, where I work as the editor-in-chief. Much of it comes from the public relations flacks who want us to write about a particular restaurant, boutique, or nightclub. As a journalist, I'm trained to ignore much of this mail. (My apologies to the public relations flacks. But it's true.)

However, nothing prepared me for the strange delivery I received approximately 11 months ago.

It was a thin cardboard envelope, and hand-delivered. The return address bore the name of a law firm over on Market Street. The high-rent part of Market Street.

Oh no, I thought. We're being sued.

Suddenly dreading the rest of my day — as well as the thought of walking into my publisher's office with this news — I ripped open the cardboard and yanked out the contents.

On top was a cream-colored letter from a lawyer:

Duane—
You like mysteries. Maybe you can figure this out.
Warmly,
Louis Boxer, Esq.

As soon as my heart began to beat normally again, I looked at the photocopied sheets of paper beneath the cover letter. It appeared to be a letter written to someone named "Colonel Harry." I skimmed the first paragraph.

Then I rolled my eyes.

Yeah, right.

What was this Boxer guy trying to pull?

I did a little Googling. Then some Wikipedia action. And finally, some Nexis searching. Everything confirmed my suspicion.

The letter was fake.

Had to be.

After lunch I called the number on his letter. His secretary put me right through.

"So you've received my package? Incredible, isn't it?"

"If you bought this at an auction," I said, "I hope you didn't pay too much."

"Why?"

"You honestly believe this is a letter from Dr. Watson? As in, the heterosexual life partner of one Sherlock Holmes? With all due respect, Mr. Boxer?."

"Perhaps you'll let me explain before you rush to judgment."

He was right. I wasn't being fair.p>So I let him talk over lunch at Davio's, on 17th Street, not far from his office.

(Journalism lesson #47: If you have a lawyer wanting to tell you something, make him do it over lunch at a place you normally can't afford.)

Louis Boxer was a tall, gaunt man with dark hair and a sharp widow's peak. A sculptor approaching him with a chisel would be hard pressed to find a spot that needed chipping away. And while he seemed friendly enough so far, he had an overly smug look. Maybe that was just the lawyer in him.

"If there were any justice in this world," Boxer told me, huge smile on his face, "we would have named a downtown street after Harry Resmo."

"Who?" I asked, eyeing the menu and wondering if I could get away with a shrimp cocktail.

"Colonel Harold Kelsh Resmo — a gentleman, amateur scientist and Civil War vet who was a minor celebrity in his day. But he was an especially big deal here in Philadelphia."

"Never heard of him."

"Not much of a student of local history, are you?"

If Boxer was going to insult me, I was seriously going to consider the shrimp cocktail and the lobster tail.