Chapter 10
Wednesday
Gracechurch Street, Cheapside
“That’s him,” said Walters, tapping his fingers on the dining room table.
Harry was a handsome man in a rugged way, more like the craggy cliffs with its wild shoreline, in contrast to their brother Clayton’s classic good looks.
Black hair, a bit of silver at the temples, dark eyes that missed nothing, and a lean, tough body that had served the eldest son well over the years.
Eli leaned back, glad Paddy had called this early morning meeting. Harry identified Mason, Mr. Alberts’s coworker as one of The Vicar’s henchmen.
“When I infiltrated the counterfeit coin scheme, this man was with the leader,” verified Harry. “The leader was also the culprit who had assassinated at least one of several dead men working for the Home Office.”
Walters was the Peelers’ chameleon, able to alter his appearance and blend into any situation. His accents were numerous, and Elijah had often wondered how he kept them all straight.
Paddy slapped his palm on the table, rattling their coffee cups. “Weel, boyos, it seems we must find dis Mr. Mason.”
Walters stood, running a hand through his black hair. “I’ll get on it right away. Care if I take Lynch?”
Paddy grinned. “Gettin’ him primed and ready, eh? He’s done well on the couple of outings you’ve sent him on.”
“What do you need from me?” asked Elijah.
“Keep that pretty lady safe,” said Gus, entering the dining room. They filled him in on the latest news. “If Mason works for The Vicar, then so did her father. Remember what happened to the Fergusons.”
Eli’s stomach dropped. The elder Ferguson had tried to leave The Vicar’s “fold,” but was unable to convince his son to do so.
The son had hanged. Ferguson was found floating in the Thames, and his wife was “robbed” and killed shortly after.
This was bigger than his fear of Ruby refusing to court him. He could lose her forever.
“Why don’t Eli and I get friendly in Miss Alberts’s neighborhood while Harry is in the rookery sniffing around,” Gus offered with a smirk at his brother. Harry had been raised in an orphanage until five, then sold to a brothel as an errand boy until Paddy found him.
“Nothing wrong with my roots,” said Walters cheerfully. “Made me the man I am today.”
“Sir Harry, indeed,” chirped Maggie, walking to her husband and planting a kiss on his cheek. Her cheeks were pink from an early morning scrub, her fading auburn hair gathered at her neck. “Who’d have thought we’d have a knight in our midst?”
Walters had been part of the investigation team that had uncovered the Cato Conspiracy. The Crown had knighted him for his service. This gave him just enough prestige to allow the Earl of Darby to grant Harry permission to marry his sister.
“Give me a hug, ye impudent boy,” Maggie scolded Harry. “How is sweet Mattie, and how was your honeymoon?”
“Excellent and excellent,” he answered, rising to envelop Maggie in his arms. “We arrived late yesterday, so I didn’t wake her.”
“Don’t forget our Sunday dinner next week,” Maggie said, this time planting a kiss on her son’s cheek.
Elijah gulped down the rest of his coffee, made plans to meet up with Gus, and left for Bow Street. Once he checked the Register, he went to Ruthven’s office.
“I wanted to report my progress, sir,” Eli said after knocking at the open door.
“Come in, come in,” Ruthven said, standing to shake Elijah’s hand. “Any progress on the jewelry thefts?”
Eli told him of his visits to all the jewelers along Hatton Garden.
Only two more owners found a piece or set missing.
“Wells sent word that he wanted to speak with me. I’m going there today.
The three untouched shops had one difference—their keys were kept on their person.
Gaining access inside would be relatively easy.
It’s the locks on the iron chests that are hard to pick. ”
“So that’s four out of the seven. And I know it’s customary to put away any items in the display case at the end of the day, so there wouldn’t be much for a thief to steal just by breaking into the shop,” said Ruthven. “Keep me informed, Norton.”
As he walked by the comte’s house, Eli wondered what Ruby was doing at that moment. A smile came unbidden, thinking of their kiss. How had love felled him so suddenly and without warning? For he did love her, he realized. He loved her.
The bell tinkled over his head when he entered Wells Jewelry. The short man with the frizzy gray hair waved from his office. “Back here,” he called.
Elijah joined him. “Something you’ve remembered? I hope it’s not more items stolen.”
“No, no. Very strange, though,” said Mr. Wells. “Do you see this piece?” He held out a diamond and emerald necklace with matching earbobs and two hairpins.
“Yes, very nice,” Eli acknowledged.
“It’s fake. But when I purchased it from a couple, these gems were authentic.” Mr. Wells stared at Eli in triumph.
“Do you know how it was switched?” This case got more and more interesting.
“No, but I keep detailed records, so I looked up who sold them to me.” He opened a ledger, ran his finger down one side, then stopped.
“Lord and Lady MacBurns. I distinctly remember his strange accent. A cross between Scottish and… something else. They were dressed to the nines and wanted to order an expensive tiara. Said something about their daughter coming out next Season.”
Elijah took out his notebook and pencil. “Could you describe them?”
“He was medium height—taller than me, shorter than you—with dark hair and a bushy red beard. His wife was lovely, tall and slender. She wore a hat, but I believe her hair was light. Blonde or light-brown?”
“Would you mind if I took this with me as evidence?” he asked.
“No, it’s worthless to me. Let me get you a box.”
Elijah decided to retrace his steps to the other jewelers and ask them to check their inventory for any fake pieces. Perhaps that was the link. By the end of the day, he was glad to go home and smell a stew bubbling in the kitchen.
***
The next day, Eli was waylaid at the Bow Street office.
All seven owners reported one of their more expensive pieces had been switched.
This time, Elijah brought a sketch pad with him when he returned to the jewelry shops.
He created a likeness of each item and took down the description of the seller.
Each told the same story. A couple had come in wanting an expensive piece made. They sold a piece to help pay for it. But instead of ordering that day, they took the blunt and made an appointment to return. They never did.
The couple was described each time with the same height and build, but their hair color differed along with facial hair for the man.
He sometimes had a beard, or a mustache, or both, but never clean-shaven.
She was always lovely, tall, and slender.
The accents also changed. One couple was Irish, another Scottish, French, and German.
When he met with George Ruthven again, he showed his superior the sketches. “I think it’s one couple in disguise. They use the same ploy, and the female is very flirtatious. She could have easily distracted the owners, allowing her accomplice to swap the original with a fake.”
Ruthven frowned. “How are they getting into the safe?”
“Several owners recall the female following them. She must have seen where the key was kept. A good lockpick might get inside the shop, but opening a double tumbler would require a key.” Eli shook his head. “I’d wager all the thefts occurred within a short time period.”
“But what about the shops where they didn’t have a key?”
“The switch was done before the jewelry was put in the safe.”
“That’s a possibility. If you solve this, Norton, I’ll raise your salary,” said Ruthven, nodding in agreement. “Good work.”
The praise filled Elijah with pride, though he’d decided he would quit as soon as he had enough blunt to open his own shop. Hopefully, with a beautiful Ruby of his own to help him.
He met Gus at a tavern near Houghton Street, where Ruby had lived.
They talked to locals and learned Mr. Alberts and his daughter had been liked well enough.
One man remembered when Alberts had left his job as a coal delivery man to work for someone in Whitechapel. It had been soon after his wife died.
Elijah passed around the sketch of Mason, but no one recognized him or admitted to knowing him. But as they left, a barmaid pulled on Gus’s sleeve. “Meet me out back,” she said.
“Think she fancies you?” asked Eli with a smirk.
“She didn’t smile. If she fancied me, she would have smiled, given me a nicer invitation,” replied Gus, frowning.
They walked through an alley to the back of the tavern. The woman came out, peering up and down the dark lane. “I saw him when I visited my sister. She lives in the Limehouse District and rented a room next door. Is he in trouble?”
“Could you tell us the direction?” asked Gus, his dark eyes studying the barmaid.
“It’s four down from The Grapes, toward the docks,” she said. “My sister fancied him. I’d like to know if she should keep away from him.”
“Yes, she should,” replied Elijah, sliding a coin into her palm. “Thank you for your help.”
“I’m feeling a wee thirst coming on,” said Gus as they walked away. “Fancy a bumper at The Grapes?”
The pair took a hackney to Limehouse, then walked along Narrow Street until they came to The Grapes. It was a working-class tavern, usually filled with dockworkers, sailors, and local patrons, and always crowded. Elijah had only visited once, but Gus and Harry met informants there often.
Much of the clientele came and went with the tide.
Many here only patronized the Limehouse area when their ship was docked on the Thames.
The Grapes’s ideal location on the riverfront, next to the Limehouse docks and basin, made it popular with any crew.
There were warehouses behind this street for storing the latest shipments and the merchandise waiting to go out.
With a hundred conversations taking place at once, a man could get a great deal of information in a short amount of time.
Gus hunched his shoulders, an almost unconscious movement when he entered a crowded place.
His size could be off-putting, and he had been used to making himself smaller since childhood.
His size, however, was helpful when trying to order ale at a crowded bar.
The scent of unwashed bodies and ale assaulted their nostrils as they made their way toward the kegs.
Eli scanned the room and its occupants, wondering if Mr. Alberts had stopped in here for a bumper before setting sail.
Once they had their drinks, Gus led the way to an available space near a wall where they could see the patrons coming in and out.
They waited about an hour before Mason walked in.
He looked nervously about as he waited to get the barkeep’s attention.
Gus and Eli flanked the man, Gus’s bear paw clamping onto the man’s shoulder. Mason looked at Elijah and frowned, then looked the other way and froze.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Mr. Mason,” said Gus quietly, bending down to be sure the man heard. “Let’s take a walk.”
When Mason threw a glance over his shoulder and tried to duck away, Gus wrapped his hand around the man’s neck and pushed him toward the door. “That ain’t very mannerly trying to run off.”
Outside, the trio walked between several groups chatting, then turned down the alley. Gus shoved the man against the wall and rose to his full height. “Well, my friend, we need some information, and you’re going to provide it. Understood?”
Mason nodded, eyes darting back and forth between Gus and Elijah. “What do ye want?”
“What happened with your friend, Alberts?” asked Eli.
“We was doin’ a job—”
“What kind of job?” Elijah’s heart sank as Mason confirmed Mr. Alberts was under the employ of The Vicar.
“A payin’ one,” spit out Mason, finding his courage.
“Who attacked you that night he disappeared?” asked Eli.
Mason’s head jerked to Elijah, eyes narrowed. “This isn’t just about Alberts?”
Gus said, “Was he trying to leave The Vicar’s congregation?”
The man’s face paled. He blinked, then shook his head. “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ else.”
“Then you can come with us. We’ll put you up for the night in a lovely little place on Bow Street,” rasped Eli.
Mason dropped to his knees, scuttled beneath Gus’s arm, then ran. Within two steps, Gus had him by the collar, his huge fist slamming into the man’s jaw. Mason crumpled to the ground. Gus picked him up and heaved the unconscious man over his shoulder. “He’ll be easier to transport this way.”