February 12, 1889
“I never thought I would say this, but I wish Aunt Eleanor would take over her chaperone duties again,” Walker said as they approached the police station.
“It is getting rather taxing for you, isn’t it?” Mira said. “Tell you what, tomorrow I promise to chaperone you and Liza. You can do whatever you’d like.”
“Whatever we like?” Walker teased.
“Within reason, of course. Otherwise, I’ll be banned from being your chaperone.”
“This errand shouldn’t take too long,” Byron said. “We simply need to hand over the dagger and be done with things. Although, I wouldn’t mind taking a look at the other objects found on his person.”
“The jewels, you mean?” Walker said.
“And anything else that might give us some insight into his character.”
They marched up the steps of the constabulary and up to the front desk where Constable McGuire sat.
“Why, hullo, Mr. Constantine, Miss Blayse! And you are?”
“Walker Blayse. Chaperone and brother.”
“Of course. Can I help you all with something?”
“Yes, I believe you might,” Byron said. “I’ve—”
“Anything I can do to help, I’d be happy to do so. It really is a pleasure sir, if you don’t mind me saying. I’ve read so much about your work and your cases.”
Byron blinked. “Well, at the moment, I just need to speak with Inspector Rutledge.”
“Is it to do with the burglary case?” McGuire’s eyes twinkled. “I knew there was something more to it.”
“Is the inspector in?”
“You’re in luck. He’s just in his office. End of the hall, there.”
“Thank you very much.”
A short walk, a quick knock, and a soft ‘come in’ brought them into Rutledge’s office.
“Why, Mr. Constantine. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Byron pulled the handkerchief-wrapped bundle from his coat. “Found something on a walk at Wynmar Park and thought you might want to see it.”
“Oh?” Rutledge took the package and opened it up, frowning. “Where did you find this?”
“Around where Treadway fell. I marked the location with some sticks, in case you wanted to take a look at it.”
Rutledge picked up the dagger, turning it over. “This couldn’t be Treadway’s blood. But . . .” He reluctantly continued. “It would be quite the coincidence if it was unrelated to his death.”
“That was my thought, sir,” Byron said. “I wanted to take a look at Mr. Treadway’s personal effects, if you didn’t mind.”
“Certainly. We have them in a box in the back, waiting to be collected by his next of kin.” He stepped into the hall.
“He’s taking it well,” Walker said. “We may have just broken open the entire investigation.”
“Possibly,” Byron said.
Inspector Rutledge returned. “I’ve sent McGuire to fetch the box.
” He tipped his head to the side looking over the dagger again, a glint of confidence coming to his eye.
“Come to think of it, this could very well have belonged to the deceased. I wouldn’t be surprised if it dropped from his pocket when he fell. ”
“And the blood?” Byron asked.
“He often hunted with Mr. Risewell,” Rutledge said, straightening. “He might have not wiped it thoroughly the last time he caught a rabbit or something.”
“Or something,” Mira said, annoyed. The inspector was grasping at straws to maintain his clean “death by misadventure.”
McGuire came in with a box and began laying everything out on the table. “There’s everything we found.”
Mira scanned the items. Pencil. Handkerchief. Pocket watch. Leather gloves. Cigarette case. Matchbook. A few foreign coins. And then the stolen jewels.
Byron pulled out his journal and a pen. “Let’s see . . . there’s the emerald bracelet. The diamond ring. The gold work necklace. The diamond brooch.” He made a tick mark as he checked each one off. “I do believe that’s all of it.”
“No,” Mira said. “We’re missing a necklace.”
“Are we?” Inspector Rutledge said.
“Mrs. Risewell’s grandmother’s necklace. It was made of amethyst and jade. Theresia described it to me when she discovered it was missing.”
The five of them turned back to the assortment on the table.
“What do you make of it, Inspector?” Byron asked.
“Erm. Well. Perhaps Miss Risewell only misplaced it. Or the necklace is hidden somewhere in his room at Wynmar.”
“There is one other piece of evidence that we found at Wynmar yesterday,” Byron said.
“Rounds of ice, uniform in size, that suggest a horse was taken to the top of the ridge and then returned to the stable. My prevailing thought is that Mr. Treadway intended to hand the stolen goods off to a partner. I doubt he would forget such a significant piece of jewelry.”
“Do you have a theory, then?” Rutledge said, lips pressed together in a thin white line.
“I do. Though I currently lack the proof to ratify it. Would you, and some of your constables, be so kind as to accompany us to Wynmar Park?”
“Well . . .”
McGuire perked up. “We really ought to account for the location of the necklace, sir.”
Inspector Rutledge sighed. “Very well, then.”
“Excellent.” Byron turned to Walker, writing something down in his journal and tearing the page out. “Would you follow us there after completing these instructions?”
Walker’s brow furrowed as he read the page. “I’m meant to be chaperoning you, Constantine.”
“Right you are,” Byron turned to the inspector. “You wouldn’t mind if one of your constables took on that role, would you Inspector?”
“I suppose not.”
Byron nodded, heading for the door. He stopped on the threshold and spun around. “Oh, and incidentally, you may want to bring two carriages, because I believe we’ll be making an arrest.”
***
After some negotiation, the police headed out to Wynmar Park.
By some stroke of luck, Mira and Byron were assigned to a carriage with only one policeman—Constable Welter.
It wasn’t exactly private, but he was better than some of the chaperones they had had as of late, especially when, with an hour left in the drive, the rocking sensation of the wheels lulled the man to sleep.
“And what is the grand mastermind up to now?” Mira asked, keeping her voice pitched low.
“Hm?”
“With Walker. You have a plan.”
“I have a theory. Though part of me hopes that I’m incorrect. I sent him to the only jeweler in town.”
“You think someone has already sold the necklace?” Mira frowned. “But if Mr. Treadway had passed the necklace to his partner, why did he have the other jewelry on him?”
“I never said that Mr. Treadway took the necklace.”
Mira’s eyes widened. “You don’t think . . . you don’t think it was Theresia, do you?”
“Now, why would I think that?” Byron’s eyes smiled.
“She’s the one who said it was stolen. But why would she have taken it?”
“I have a theory about that too. I’m surprised you haven’t thought of it yet.”
“Can’t you give me a little hint?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
Mira tipped her head to the side. “I thought we weren’t going to have secrets between us.”
He held out for about two seconds. “All right. I suppose it is only fair. Consider what Miss Risewell told you yesterday.”
“About her dislike of her suitors?” Mira looked down, mulling over the conversation. “Except for one.” She turned to him, the pieces falling into place. “She said he wasn’t a proper suitor. Which means her family either doesn’t know about him or doesn’t approve.”
“In which case,” Byron said, “she would need money to elope.”
“That explains the necklace.”
“If her paramour is who I think it is, it explains quite a bit.”
Mira worried at her lip. “It would have to be someone below her station. But the only person I can think—”
The constable snorted in his sleep and the two fell silent until it was clear he wouldn’t be waking.
“Could it be Rudy Foster?” Mira whispered.
“That’s the conclusion I’ve come to. I don’t have all the details sorted yet.
One scenario is they were going to run away together that night.
Hence the horse. But Silas Treadway caught them.
There was a bit of a scuffle, one of them drew a knife, and Silas fell.
Not wanting to draw suspicion to themselves by disappearing or being found with the jewels, they stashed most of the ill-gotten goods on his person and pretended like nothing had happened. ”
Mira shook her head. “No, that can’t be right.
Otherwise, Theresia wouldn’t have been so shocked that morning.
And she certainly wouldn’t have been so open with me when we spoke in the stables.
And what about the other burglaries? Were they stealing jewelry from other houses in order to fund their escape? ”
“Good questions, all of them. The only thing I know is the answers lie with Rudy Foster, and so to Rudy Foster we must go.”
Mira averted her gaze. “If it is true, I feel sorry for them. It is hard enough gaining familial approval without a class divide.”
He looked over at her. “You know that from experience now, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“Is it just Mary, or the lot of them?”
Mira traced the floral pattern on her skirt. “Castel seems to have come around. Your mother is a mystery. But I have no idea what I’ve done to make Mary hate me so.”
“She doesn’t hate you.” He caught her hand with his and gave it a squeeze.
“Well, she certainly doesn’t like me. Will you concede to that?”
He sighed. “I witnessed your verbal sparring last evening. I imagine if she’s willing to speak that way in front of me, it’s even worse when I’m not around. What has she been saying?”
“That I’m not good enough for your family. I feel as if I’m Elizabeth Bennet facing down Lady Catherine. But falling short no matter what I do.”
“Does that make me the brooding Mr. Darcy?” he teased.
She slid her gaze over his face, considering. “No. Because I’ve never hated you.”