Echoes of Sherlock Holmes: Stories Inspired by the Holmes Canon(70)

“She is, and yes, it will be difficult.”

“You can see how so many of your colleagues begin the slide into taking little donations to supplement their wage.”

“I don’t judge them. I did, when I was a lot younger, but no more. They do what they have to survive. But it certainly makes my job harder,” he added.

Tilly returned with two cups on a silver tray. The room immediately filled with the odor of hot chocolate and rich coffee.

Katherine lifted the coffee off the tray. “Tilly, lower the lights and make sure we’re not disturbed. We do not want a repetition of last week’s adventure.”

“I’ve two men on the stairs and another outside the door.”

“What happened last week?” Dermot asked when Tilly had left. “Or is that an impertinent question?”

Katherine smiled. “A young man somehow found his way into this room. He presumed I was one of the girls and made a very crude suggestion.”

Dermot sipped the chocolate. “What happened?”

“I shot him.”

The inspector sat bolt upright. “You shot him!”

“A flesh wound in the thigh only, I assure you.”

“I didn’t see any reports of a shooting in your file.”

Katherine laughed. “Oh, it is not in my file.”

“You sound confident.”

“I have a copy delivered to me every week.”

Dermot wrapped both hands around the cup and sipped. “Somehow that does not surprise me.”

Katherine brought the coffee cup to her lips to hide her smile. “What did you discover today?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Nobody knows anything. The last time the jewels were seen was on the eleventh of June, when Sir Arthur Vicars showed them to some visiting librarian. What is extraordinary, however, is how casually he is taking it. It is almost as if he expects the stones to turn up.”

“I believe he does,” she said enigmatically, and waved away his next question. “Suspects?” she asked.

“No one. Everyone associated with the jewels are gentlemen of impeccable character.”

Katherine laughed softly. She raised her chin slightly to the noise from the rooms above. “This house is filled with gentlemen of impeccable character.”

“I did discover something odd—amusing too.”

“Tell me.”

“When the jewels were moved into the Bedford Tower four years ago, a special strong room was constructed. An impregnable Radcliffe and Horner safe was purchased to hold the jewels.” Dermot started to smile. “The only problem was that when the safe arrived, it was discovered that the door to the strong room was too narrow to admit it. So the safe was temporarily moved to the library. It’s been there ever since.”

“Who holds the keys to the safe?” Katherine asked.

“There are two keys. Both are in the possession of Sir Arthur Vicars.” He stopped and sipped the chocolate. “Perhaps a duplicate key . . .”

Katherine shook her head. “Mickey checked with all the locksmiths today. No one has been approached to make a duplicate. What does that tell us?” she asked.

“That one of the original keys was used.”

She nodded. “So someone close to Sir Arthur.”

“Or Sir Arthur himself.”

Katherine shook her head. “He has too much to lose: pension, reputation, position.”

“Then I am at a loss. Perhaps it is a joke?”

Katherine remained silent.

“You do not think so?”

“I spoke with the cleaning lady, Mrs. Farrell, today.”

Dermot sat back in the chair. “I did not know there was a cleaning lady. No one has mentioned her before.”

Katherine’s smile was humorless. “Servants and children are always the invisible observers. It would be a mistake to ignore their testimony.”

Dermot nodded.

“Mrs. Farrell finishes early in the morning. Last Wednesday, when she turned up for work, she discovered the door to the entrance to the tower unlocked and open. And then again, last Saturday, she arrived to find the door to the library ajar.”

“And did she report it?” He pulled out a notebook and flipped through the pages. “There is no record of it.”

“She told Mr. Stivey, the messenger, and he, in turn, reported it directly to Vicars.”

“But why didn’t Vicars report it?”

“You must ask Sir Arthur that. I also spoke with Mr. Stivey. He told me that Vicars took the news with some equanimity and was apparently unperturbed.”

“How odd.”

Dermot sipped his chocolate, watching Katherine’s eyes over the rim of his cup. Finally, he sighed. “Your two-hour investigation has discovered more than the rest of the DMP. Do you know who stole the jewels?”

“I can tell you that Sir Arthur Vicars shares a house with Francis Shackleton, younger brother of the arctic explorer.”

“I knew that. I’ve seen Shackleton. A rather vain and foppish young man.”

“Who happens to have accrued some spectacular debts to some unfortunately unforgiving people.” Katherine’s face appeared out of the gloom. “The IOUs are on the floor beside your chair.”

Dermot put down his cup and picked up the scraps of paper, turning them to the firelight. “How did you get these?”