Chapter 12
Harry scarcely took in the remainder of the performance.
The moment the final curtain fell, she got to her feet and began to edge towards the aisle, ignoring the grumbling complaints of those still seated on the benches.
Beth followed. ‘I vote we make for the station sharpish,’ she said in an undertone.
‘Before Hercules Jones and his cronies come looking for us.’
‘Agreed,’ Harry said, glancing over her shoulder to make certain he was not making his way towards them already. ‘There’s no time to lose.’
Dusk had begun to fall, cloaking London Fields in half-shadow, and sleet stung their cheeks as they hurried across the park.
It wasn’t until they alighted the train at Liverpool Street and mingled among the crowds there that Harry felt the tension in her shoulders lessen.
They left the station in search of a telephone kiosk, to allow Harry to enlist Oliver’s help.
‘Where are you?’ he asked, once the call was connected.
‘I’ve been trying to contact you all afternoon. ’
She brushed the question aside. ‘Never mind that now. Can you persuade Inspector Wells to meet us at Berkeley Square in half an hour? I want to make sure I’m right before I tell her what I suspect.’
‘Half an hour?’ Oliver said, evidently taken aback. ‘I’ll do my best but that won’t give us time to disguise ourselves. Are you sure you want Wells to know you’re not a man?’
Harry thought of the speculative look she had seen on the inspector’s face during their last meeting.
‘I think she already knows,’ she said. ‘I’m still dressed as Sarah Smith, but perhaps it might be prudent to ask if we can use the tradesman’s entrance, especially since you won’t be disguised at all. ’
Once Oliver had rung off, Harry turned to Beth.
‘It’s too risky to collect our old hats and coats from the dressmaker now.
We can stop by for them next week.’ She eyed her fretfully.
‘Do you have everything you need ahead of speaking to Serafina this evening? I can’t help wishing I was coming with you. ’
‘She’d clam up like an oyster if you did,’ Beth pointed out. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll be careful.’
Harry gnawed at her lip. ‘I expect that’s what Polly Spender said too.’
Beth shook her head. ‘I’m sharper than Polly and I ain’t mixed up with the same kind of criminals she was. I bet I’ll be home before midnight, never you fear.’
As Harry watched her make for the bus that would carry her towards Camden, she could only pray Beth’s optimism was justified.
If Inspector Wells was in any way surprised to be confronted by Harry dressed as a woman, she did not show it.
‘Good evening, Miss Smith,’ she said crisply, when the police officer stationed at the back door showed her and Oliver into the hallway of number 50 Berkeley Square.
‘Mr Fortescue here tells me you are an associate of Mr Thompson, and come with fresh information regarding this peculiar matter.’
‘I do,’ Harry said, relieved the policewoman seemed disposed to play along, at least for now. ‘But before I reveal anything, Mr Thompson has instructed me to ask one or two questions, the answers to which may have an impact upon the case.’
‘I shall certainly help if I can,’ Inspector Wells said, appraising her judiciously. ‘What would you like to know?’
‘Were you able to interview Mr Evans about his experiences during the renovations?’
‘As a matter of fact, we were. It was all much as your associates said – there were some very strange aspects to the job that made it stand out in his mind. The caretaker was an odd fellow but he let them in each morning. The maid was a nervous little thing. He couldn’t recall her name but thought it might have been Poppy. ’
‘Or Polly,’ Oliver put in.
The inspector nodded. ‘Mr Thompson was right about the body too – Mrs Spender confirmed it was her daughter this afternoon.’
Harry bowed her head. She had already known, of course, but the confirmation still created a well of sadness for a mother robbed of her child.
‘Have you managed to locate the caretaker?’ Oliver asked.
‘Not yet,’ Inspector Wells said. ‘I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that he has not returned to his old address.’
‘Indeed not, since he must know that’s the first place you will look for him,’ Oliver said. ‘It’s safe to assume he took a copy of the keys to the house before he left.’
‘That would explain why there was no evidence of a break-in,’ the inspector agreed. ‘Although I confess I still can’t see how the theft was done.’
Harry cleared her throat. ‘Perhaps I can help with that. We know the dining room was in use until midnight on the night of the theft, and the safe was found open just before eight o’clock the following day.
I think the thieves entered this house while the family and domestic staff slept, used the tunnel to creep into number 48 and break into the safe, then left the same way they came in. ’
‘But how?’ Inspector Wells threw up her hands. ‘How did they access the hidden room?’
Harry smiled. ‘For that, we need to examine the carpets upstairs.’
The other woman narrowed her gaze. ‘The carpets? Whatever for?’
‘Mr Evans reported his men complained of mysteriously creaky floorboards. I suspect the reason for that will soon become clear.’
Oliver was also eyeing her with puzzlement. ‘Then by all means let’s go.’
Despite endeavouring to sound every bit as assured as Holmes when stating her case, Harry felt the sinuous coils of doubt constricting her stomach as they climbed the staircase to the first floor.
Could she be mistaken? Was she seeing connections where none existed?
Forcing herself to ignore her misgivings, she paused at the top of the stairs and turned to the landing on the left.
‘What’s behind here?’ she asked, pointing to the first door.
‘A music room, I believe,’ Inspector Wells said.
Harry closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the dining room below, with its ruined false wall. She progressed along the landing to a second door. ‘And this?’
‘Mr Anderson’s study.’
‘I think that may be the one,’ Harry said and, before she could lose confidence, she pushed the door back.
Much like the study in the house next door, the floor in this room was furnished with an expensive rug.
Almost as soon as Harry stepped across the threshold, a floorboard creaked under her feet.
She stopped to scan the floor, noting that the rug did not extend under the desk beneath the window, then fired an enquiring look Oliver’s way.
‘I wonder if you might help me lift this rug?’
Together, they heaved it out of the way to reveal dark wooden floorboards.
Dropping to her knees, Harry ran her hands across them, searching for a tell-tale gap.
Finally, she found what she was looking for – a slender crack at the end of one board.
‘Could you pass me that letter knife, please?’ she asked Oliver.
He took it from the desk without comment, watching as she slotted it into the space and levered the wood upwards.
It came away easily, lifting to reveal a long, thin cavity.
But that was not all. As she pulled the board away, a lengthy strand of fiery red hair caught the light, snagged on the roughened edge of the wood.
Harry looked at it for a moment. ‘I don’t suppose there’s an envelope to hand, is there? ’
Oliver cast around. ‘No, but there’s a sheet of paper.’
‘That will do.’ Teasing the hair free, Harry tucked it into the folded paper, offering it to Inspector Wells. ‘You might want to take this. I think you’ll find it matches that of one of your soon-to-be suspects.’
Without waiting for a response, Harry ran her hands along the floorboards once more.
The next slid out smoothly and soundlessly, and the board beside that did the same, until over a third of the floor had been removed.
She bent to examine the edges of the boards that remained, noting a series of shallow grooves that had been carved into the wood.
‘Take note of these, Inspector,’ she said, pointing at the indentations. ‘They are also a clue.’
In silence, Inspector Wells examined the scuff marks, although it was clear from her bemused expression that she did not yet understand what they meant.
Once she stepped back, Harry set to with her fingertips once more, this time exploring the cavity beneath the missing boards, and again she found a break.
She dug with the letter knife, scarcely daring to breathe as she levered upwards, and was rewarded as the whole section of floor beneath the boards shifted.
Thrusting her fingers into the widened crack, she pulled hard and felt the wood come away.
For a moment, all she saw below was darkness, then her eyes adjusted and she saw the barest outline of walls and floor.
‘Would one of you be good enough to go downstairs and turn the dining-room light on?’ she said, glancing over her shoulder.
Inspector Wells vanished from the room and Harry took the opportunity to examine the raised wooden panel, noting the underside had been painted white to blend in with the ceiling.
Moments later, the space below Harry was lit up by a pale-yellow glow that spilled through the hole in the wall, and Inspector Wells appeared.
Her face craned up at Harry. ‘They lowered the safe-cracker from the room above. The grooves you pointed out were made by the rope.’
‘Yes,’ Harry said. ‘Once inside, they navigated the tunnel, stole the diamond and came out the same way. Perhaps Polly fell from up here in the course of the theft, or perhaps she knew more than was good for her and that led to her death, but at some point, her embalmed corpse was lowered back into the room on the chair.’
Oliver frowned. ‘It would take tremendous strength to do that.’