Chapter 4
Saturday
Hatton Garden
Eli passed the townhouse where Miss Alberts worked and continued to Cross Street. Wells Jewelry was a small shop, with a nice display in the front window. He saw a brooch that his grandmother would like and remembered how much she enjoyed receiving a gift during Christmastide.
A bell tinkled above his head as he pushed open the door. A short man with a mane of frizzy gray hair stood behind a glass counter. He spied the short greatcoat and tipstaff carried by Bow Street officials and quickly walked around to greet Eli.
“Good day,” said the man, holding out his hand.
Elijah shook hands with the man. “Mr. Wells? I’m Mr. Norton, here to investigate the theft.”
“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Wells, “I’ll call my assistant so you can talk to us at the same time.”
“I’d prefer speaking with each of you separately if you don’t mind.” Eli didn’t want either man relying on the memory of the other. Always get yer information straight from da source with nobody else around. People tend to influence each other, Paddy always said.
“Could you tell me about the day you acquired the missing set, then the day leading up to the discovery of its disappearance?” Elijah took out a small notebook and a pencil from an inside pocket of his coat that Maggie had sewn in for him.
“Certainly, though my memory may be a bit vague as far as the first day. It was last September, you see. Lord Clatterson had set up an appointment to design a new ring for his wife. He had a diamond and ruby tiara and necklace set, which had belonged to his grandmother, and wanted to use it toward the cost of the ring.” He tapped his temple, his small eyes squinting in thought.
“It was an outdated piece, nothing special. The diamonds were actually paste, but the rubies were of excellent quality.”
“How was the jewelry contained when he gave it to you?” Eli wanted to be sure to get every detail. If he needed help from the family Peelers, they would need every obscure element of the case. Harry had told him once, The most unimportant fact in a case could be the key to solving it.
“It was in a small, square leather box with a C embroidered on the top. When opened, the tiara was nestled inside with the necklace attached to the lid.” Mr. Wells scratched his head, his strand of hair sticking up at an odd angle.
Eli wanted to use his pencil to tamp it down. “What did you do with it after that?”
“After giving his lordship a price for the set, I took it to my office and put it in the iron chest.”
“Could you show me?”
“Of course,” said Mr. Wells, leading the way to the back of the shop. “That is the workroom, where my assistant is cleaning some pieces,” he added, pointing to the left.
Inside the office was a small desk and chair, several stacks of papers, another chair for a visitor, and a stand with a top hat and a greatcoat hanging from it. In the far corner of the room stood a cast-iron chest with a lever tumbler lock.
“It’s a double-acting lock for better security,” said Mr. Wells, crouching down to open the metal box.
Elijah knew that the tumbler mechanism used a key that activated a set of levers which prevented the bolt from moving.
The lid could not be opened or picked easily like a padlock, though the single tumbler could be accessed with patience and skill.
A double-acting tumbler must be moved to a precise position to open the lock.
A tiny bit to the right or left would prohibit the thief from access, making it much harder to open.
The shop owner took the key from his pocket and opened the chest. There was a tray on the top, holding various leather or velvet bags, and beneath that were smaller boxes of different sizes. “This is my collection. Do you need to see anything in particular?”
Eli studied the contents. “I assume the stolen box was under this top shelf?” he asked.
Mr. Wells nodded.
“And do you always keep the key in your pocket?”
“Since I discovered the theft, yes. I store it in a locked desk drawer when I leave.” Mr. Wells showed him the drawer. “It wasn’t tampered with either.”
Eli spoke with the assistant, a young man with orange hair and freckles. The shop owner was certain the apprentice wasn’t involved. After questioning the employee, Eli’s gut told him the same.
The next jeweler had a similar setup but used the single tumbler lock with an added padlock. Mr. Jensson, of Jensson’s Jewelry and Accessories, had two employees—a young woman who helped customers in the front of the shop and a middle-aged man who made the pieces in the workroom.
“One of my best customers—I’d prefer not to mention his name—sold a pair of sapphire cufflinks and a diamond cravat pin given to him by his mother when he wed last August. He hates her, you know, so he decided he’d rather have the blunt.
” Mr. Jensson cleared his throat and gave Eli a half smile.
“He brought the items in a velvet bag, and I placed them in the iron chest.”
“Were all the gems authentic?”
“Oh, yes. I had a potential buyer, which is how I found out it was missing.”
“Where do you keep the key?” asked Eli.
“In a hidden slot in my desk drawer.” The jeweler opened a top drawer with a key, then felt along the bottom of the underdrawer. There was a soft click, and a panel slid back, holding the key.
“Do your employees know the hiding place?”
“I’ve never told them. In fact, only me, my wife, and now you know of it.”
After interviewing the two employees, Elijah was stumped.
Neither shop had fired any employees in the last year, so it wasn’t a disgruntled worker or a plant to find out the location of the goods.
Besides, a plant would indicate a gang, who would take everything they could in one robbery rather than a few pieces.
***
That evening at seven
Hatton Garden
Clara let out a long breath and surveyed her new domain. The kitchen was smaller than Henri’s, which made it less overwhelming to tackle. Her new assistant Mary—she had an assistant rather than being one!—seemed capable and eager to learn.
Mary blew a curl of black hair off her forehead and adjusted her mob cap. Her blue eyes were dull with fatigue, but a smile curved her lips. “What a day!” At nineteen, the girl wasn’t much younger than Clara but towered over the cook’s petite form.
“Sally, come here, please,” Clara called from the doorway of the scullery room. It was a small room with a raised wood platform over a stone floor. The space itself was set lower than the rest of the kitchen, so dirty water could never spill over or contaminate the food being prepared.
The scullery maid rinsed the last pot and wiped her hands on her stained, damp apron. Her cap sat crookedly on her head from constantly wiping her brow with her shoulder, her hands continually wet and puckered from the sink. Sally joined the other two women in the main kitchen.
“Well done,” Clara announced with a grin.
“We’ll be ready for Comte du Aveculót when he arrives.
” Today, she had made a clear broth, poached flounder, mashed turnips and beets, and shortbread with fresh butter and honey.
Mrs. Johnson had finished her meal and declared Clara an angel, while the thin, stern-faced butler proclaimed she was much too young for so much talent.
Donning her cloak, she addressed Mary, “Porridge, toast, and jam for tomorrow morning. Oh, and boil some eggs, please. I will stop by the market and pick up some vegetables and pheasant.” Clara turned to Sally. “You know how to pluck properly?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “You won’t see so much as a pin feather.”
Satisfied, she picked up her tin and the small crock with leftovers for her and Pa’s supper. Mrs. Johnson had agreed to deduct a portion of Clara’s wage so she could bring her father a meal each night. As she headed up the stairs, a shadow passed over the gas lamp above her.
“Good evening, Miss Alberts,” said a deep voice.
Her heart raced as she looked up at his handsome face. “And to you, Mr. Norton.” On the top step, she handed him the tin. “Thank you again,” she said, giving him her best smile.
As he reached for it, their gloved fingers touched.
A jolt ran through her, even with the leather barrier between them.
He was so handsome, a tall man with a straight nose, strong chin, blond hair, and hazel eyes.
Yesterday, she’d thought his eyes seemed greener, but tonight they leaned toward a soft brown with gold flecks.
But it was his smile that made her legs weak. Straight white teeth, full lips, and the feeling it was meant only for her. Heavens, what would she do if he kissed her?
Where did that thought come from? Clara wondered, feeling heat creep across her cheeks.
“I wasn’t sure if you would come,” she said, surprised by how nonchalant her voice sounded.
“Would you have been disappointed?” he asked as he held out his arm for her to take.
Clara stared at his sleeve for a moment, then caught his gaze. He was dressed again in the dark-blue greatcoat cut at the knees and the beaver top hat. She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, feeling his warmth as he placed his other hand over hers and guided her down the street.
“Where are we headed?”
“Houghton, where Stanhope and Newcastle join,” she said. “Do you mind the walk? It’s such a mild winter evening. Do you live in a different direction?”
“Doesn’t matter. It gives us more time to become acquainted.” They stopped at the corner of Charles Street, waiting for passing carriages and hackneys. “How was your day?”
The words poured out. Pa would half listen as she rambled on about the house, choosing the best ingredients, following her recipes, and learning to give orders to staff.
But Mr. Norton seemed genuinely interested.
He asked questions occasionally when she paused, proving he was paying attention to what she said.