by Mark Walker
There was a burble of voices outside one of the pebbled glass doors. It opened and a harried detective named Girard entered. “Sir, we’ve got the results from the inquiry at St James’s Square, and it appears as though this librarian was indeed robbed.”
“Robbed of what, exactly?”
“It seems she had just shown up at work with a gold pendant necklace, with a very large ruby,” he said.
“A ruby, eh? The theft of the Blood Star! Why, it’s not possible … no! … of course it’s possible. Why, St James’s Square is literally only yards away from Piccadilly Street and the Royal Academy!” exclaimed Riggs. He didn’t believe in coincidences, and the figure of a widow combined with a ruby was all too enticing to ignore. The daring robbery had been six weeks before, with not a trace of the precious stone in all that time. Could this be the clue that was needed to spring the case? It seemed so improbable…
“A ruby?” exclaimed Jen. “Rubies are red, aren’t they?”
“Yes, wee lass,” Riggs said, eyes narrowing, “go on…”
“Well,” said Jen circumspectly, “the lady in the black dress had something red in her hand. Pinkish red it was; I know I saw it.”
“That’s excellent! You’ve made a very important observation, young lady. Anything else about it you can remember? Think hard, now.”
“I remember … it sparkled in the light … for just a second.”
“Which hand was it in?”
“The right … uh …”
“Now we must be sure.”
“No, no, it was this one,” she said, demonstrating. “The left! It was her left.”
“You’re sure now?”
Jen nodded vigorously.
“Well, that’s good for a start. What was in her right?”
“She had the brolly in her right hand. And it was crooked. And she raised it up, like this!” Jen demonstrated wildly. “I knew she was going to hit me, too, and I was scared!”
“Yes, and quite rightly so. Crooked, did you say? You said the brolly was crooked?”
“Yes, the brolly was crooked. Like this.” She drew an exaggeratedly crooked line in the air.
“I see,” said Riggs thoughtfully. “She must have used that as a weapon. Did she have a purse? Anything about her face? Her eyes? Her dress or hat?”
“I think she had a purse, but I don’t remember. She had a black dress with long sleeves and a long neck. And she wore a scarf or something around her face, like this.” She demonstrated.
“A veil, had she?” prompted Riggs.
“Yes, I think that’s what it’s called. A veil.”
Riggs turned to the detective. “What else have you got?”
Detective Girard consulted his notes. “She had apparently just showed up this morning with the ruby necklace. Her fellow librarians confirmed it, and we found a very small part of the broken chain on the path where the incident occurred. It’s been sent down to the lab.”
He turned to the other children. “Good. Since you were at the library earlier, do any of you remember seeing the librarian with this ruby pendant?”
“No,” replied Michael.
“No, Inspector,” Mandy joined in. “I hardly paid any attention to her today.”
Brendalynn Welles shook her head no, and said, “I’m afraid I didn’t notice her either, Inspector. I was speaking with Kitt and Trilby.”
“That’s all right then.” Riggs turned to the detective and said, “We have to explore the possibility of some connection between the widow and the stolen Blood Star ruby. I’m not sure where it exists, but the possibility of another ruby stolen by another widow within three blocks of the Blood Star disappearance is almost nonexistent. Right. Get the lads together and wait for DI Blaney in the Incident Room. Split into two teams: one to try and trace the necklace chain, and the rest of you will be off on an expedition to Piccadilly. It’s already dark so it may be a pointless excursion, but see if there’s anything you can dig up. We must get cracking, the weather forecast is for rain later tonight.”
The young detective’s eyes glittered. “Right-o, Guv!”
A detective entered briefly and handed Mrs. Peach a piece of paper. “Ah!” she said. “The report from the hospital just came in, sir. Miss Minerva Chillglass has a very serious concussion, and is in a coma. The doctors say it’s too early to tell if she’ll ever regain consciousness. As of now, her chances are only fifty-fifty.”
“Hmm,” muttered Riggs thoughtfully. “Let’s pray she’ll recover quickly. Right. Mrs. Peach, ring Superintendent Makepeace and apprise him of the situation.”
Almost as soon as she had left, the pebbled glass door swung open again, and in came a rather small, dark young man in shirtsleeves, his tie askew. “What have you got, Guv?”
“Children, may I present Detective Inspector Richard Blaney of our famous Flying Squad. That’s our elite mobile section, responsible for tracking the movements of criminals. DI Blaney here is one of our top lads. Inspector, these are our chief witnesses. Now, this wee lass saw a lady dressed in black mourning with a veil beside the librarian, with what appears to be the stolen pendant in her hand. Michael here trailed this lady in black from St James’s Square to Piccadilly Circus, where she disappeared completely. Sergeant Bellows will give you the details. But here’s a new one for him and you to ponder: the stolen pendant is supposed to contain a ruby.”
“A ruby? The missing Blood Star, sir?”
“You’re quick on the uptake, Inspector. And a mysterious lady in black involved, to boot. But we’ll take it step-by-step. Take your team over to Piccadilly and see if you can turn up any leads. Check with the officers in the Square Garden for the footprints, and make a plaster cast immediately—they’re forecasting rain tonight. Then follow her trail as outlined by the boy, to Piccadilly Circus. Girard and team two will start looking into where the pendant might have been purchased, or if there is a bill of sale on the librarian, or in her desk at the library.”
Detective Blaney nodded and grinned. “Sounds just the ticket, sir.”
“Good luck then.”
When he had gone Riggs said, “A very good man, that. He’s one of the best of the Flying Squad, and can trail a man as if to be almost invisible.”
Mrs. Peach came in with tea and sandwiches, which she began to serve with help from Brendalynn Welles. Just then, Sergeant Bellows returned.
“Ah, just in the nick of time, I see!” Riggs teased the sergeant.
As they ate, Riggs discussed the ruby pendant with Bellows. “This isn’t adding up, Fred. I can’t understand why the pendant was stolen in broad daylight, in an attack that would surely draw attention. I mean, if the ruby is the stolen Blood Star and as valuable as they say, it wouldn’t make sense. I can’t imagine this Miss Chillglass could afford anything expensive on a librarian’s salary.”
“Unless the librarian was into something fishy,” countered Bellows.
“No, that simply doesn’t fit with what we know now, though we’ll have to investigate that possibility. Make a note of that please, Mrs. Peach. And what of our assumption that it’s a synthetic stone, a fake? Why steal it at all? No, there’s something infernally odd about this business.”
Mandy spoke up, “You know Inspector, I love reading ’tec stories!”
“Tec stories did you say, Mandy?”
“Yes, ’tec, short for detective.”
“Oh yes, she loves her mysteries,” chimed in Brendalynn. “Do you read ’tec stories, Inspector?’’
Kelly Riggs smiled. “Not as many as I’d like. Usually I’m too busy doing the real thing. Mostly reading files and reports in connection with our cases. Somehow I manage to keep up with the newspapers … but I do love to read a ’tec story now and then…”—here he paused with a smile, “especially a bit of the old Bulldog Drummond and those terrific Edgar Wallace thrillers.”
Brendalynn Welles said warmly, “I’m rather fond of Edgar Wallace as well. Where the hero and the heroine are lured to a spooky ab
bey crypt, saved in the nick of time from certain death at the hands of some hairy sadistic old villain!”
“Or an ace ’tec from Scotland Yard like Mr. J.G. Reeder or Mister Angel Esquire takes on a criminal genius and saves the lady in distress,” rejoined Riggs. She laughed, and then sighed. “Actually, though, reading the law is even more interesting to me—so much more like the real thing. The children and I read every day.”
“Not law books, I hope,” rejoined Riggs dryly.
Brendalynn laughed. “No, Inspector, we read everything. In fact, that’s the reason we were at the London Library today. For their schooling, of course. But we do like to read for fun. Why, even Michael likes to read.”
“What do you like to read, lad?” asked Riggs.
“Well, I like Sherlock Holmes,” said Michael brightly.
“Ah, now he was the best!” said Riggs with enthusiasm.
“I need to find some books on how to be a real detective,” said Toby thoughtfully. “Perhaps I could help in the investigation somehow.”
Kelly Riggs and Fred Bellows exchanged discreet glances.
They finished their meal and then the interviews started again, this time with as much detail as Riggs and Bellows could elicit. They questioned each one minutely. The clock ticked. Mrs. Peach took down their statements with care. Then she made a second round of tea, and Sergeant Bellows shared some biscuits Mrs. Bellows had made for him with the children.
“I know it’s been a long day, but there’s one last thing I need you to do. Mrs. Peach, could you send down to Criminal Records for the most recent Rogues Galleries, from sections A, B, C, D, and E? And for our newest collar from this afternoon.”
chapter six
The Regulars
RIGGS WAS SMILING NOW.
“I’ve just sent down for some photo albums for you to look at. We know you didn’t get a good look at our lady in black, but we want you to look at some pictures anyway, and see if you recognize anyone at all.”
Toby, who had been examining the paneled walls, asked, “I see you have lots of diplomas, Inspector. Did you go to school to learn how to become a detective?”
“Well, it’s a long story. You see, I grew up in Scotland, in north Edinburgh. My dad was English and my mum Scottish. I came down to England to attend university at Cambridge, but my plans were interrupted by the war. Even though I was barely of age, I went back home to join the Royal Highland Regiment.” He indicated his tie. “This is the tartan of the regiment with which I served. You may have heard of them, the Black Watch.”
“The Black Watch!” cried Michael in amazement.
“Yes, m’lad.”
“What’s the Black Watch?” asked Mandy excitedly.
“Why, it’s the oldest Highland Regiment, raised in 1725. It started as a band of Highland clans who took a stand against lawlessness. King George II formed them into a regiment of the line. The one requirement is that all members be natives of Scotland. The Black Watch has served all across the world: France, North America, against Napoleon in Spain and at Quatre Bras and Waterloo, India, the Crimea, the Boer Wars, and of course the last war.”
“Did you fight Napoleon?” asked Jen in wonder.
“No, silly, he’s not that old!” admonished Michael.
Riggs gave a tight smile. He didn’t mention the small velvet box in his lower desk drawer that contained his Victoria Cross, or the one next to it with the Croix de Guerre. He continued, “After the war, somehow I managed to finish school. There’s my degree from Cambridge.” He indicated a framed diploma hanging on the wall. “Then I found myself here in London, where one of the chaps in my unit had just joined the Metropolitan Police. It sounded interesting and exciting, and I’d always had a penchant for solving puzzles and righting wrongs, so I joined as well. You see, people have a hard enough time as it is, and I won’t stop until I’ve put away as many of the villains as I can. Whether we want to face up to it or not, there is genuine evil in this world, and I’m here to pursue it and destroy it with the light of truth.
“So,” he smiled, “that’s part of the ‘why.’ Now, as to your question. I’ve had to study hard every step of the way, from the beginning, first to become a constable, and even more so to become a detective. Each course gets ever more difficult. But all your previous training comes to the fore as you complete each course. I had to complete another course to become a detective sergeant, and then again to become a detective inspector. Not to mention keeping up one’s skills in various courses and competitions. I still have to take exams from time to time to maintain my rank.”
“But what do you have to study?” asked Toby.
“Why, anything related to solving crime. It’s quite a list. Everything from finding and developing evidence of all kinds—fingerprints, observation and interpretation, identifying suspects and types of disguises—to matters involving the law and criminal codes, basic math, science, training in firearms, and in handling and interviewing suspects. Physical fitness training as well. The learning never stops, in the business of solving crime and in the business of life as well. The criminals continually get cleverer, so we must keep a step ahead.”
Not to be put off by this departure from truly important matters, Jen whispered furiously into Brendalynn’s ear. “Jen wants to know about your socks.” For indeed, Kelly Riggs was wearing plaid socks.
There was a knock on the pebbled glass door and a female constable entered pushing a small cart on wheels, piled high with photo albums.
“Ah! Here we are—that was fast—brought by our shining light, WPC Mary Hopkins. Working the late shift, I see.”
Mary Hopkins was a cheerful, young brunette who indeed had a bright smile, and the children instantly took to her.
“It seems to get later every day, Chief Inspector, and I see you and Sergeant Bellows are still here.”
“Touché, Constable Hopkins. But seriously, I want you all to take a look at this first before we get started.” He pulled a file off the top of the stack of albums on the cart and opened it. He held up a sheet of paper on which a fresh set of photographs had been stapled.
“Johnny!” gasped the children.
For it was indeed a mug shot of Johnny Glams, front and side view, holding up a small board with numbers and the date, looking scared, though somewhat defiant. His fingerprints were obviously fresh on the sheet below the photos.
“Mr. Glams may not have attacked our librarian, but he’s being held for the theft of several people’s property this afternoon. And it’s not his first offence, so he’ll probably go to jail for a few months.”
He looked directly at Toby. “You were wondering if you could help. Now, if he is your friend, you might see about trying to set him straight, so he doesn’t spend any more time behind bars. Unfortunately, most criminals are repeat offenders, so if you can help nip his career in the bud, all the better.”
At that moment the old candlestick phone on Riggs’s desk gave its bring-bring, bring-bring. Riggs answered, his face pensive. “Yes.” A tight smile slowly formed on his lips and his eyes shone like a hawk’s as he answered back, “Good work, lads. Marvelous! Be with you in about fifteen minutes.” He hung up. “Developments!” he said cryptically, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Well, I must take my leave. After you’ve finished with the books, we’ll have you all driven home. Mr. Knockknees, you’re free to go, but don’t go far and don’t forget what I said about Mr. Glams. Miss Welles and children, I’m afraid I’ve some bad news. The children will have to miss their lessons, as you get to come back here tomorrow.” Their eyes lit up, Michael’s especially. “And in compensation for taking up so much of your time, you’ll be given a special tour of Scotland Yard.”
“Inspector, is there any way I might come on the tour?” asked Toby anxiously. “My work backstage at the theatre won’t start until tomorrow night.”
Kelly Riggs contemplated the young man for a moment. “Of course, you can.”
After he had gone, WPC
Hopkins and Sergeant Bellows began sorting through a set of very large books. “Here we are, ladies and gentlemen,” announced Sergeant Bellows, “the Rogues Galleries! What we like to call Our Gang or Our Regulars, since they show up so regularly.”
“And that’s just the beginning,” added Mary Hopkins with a smile as she made her exit. Even Brendalynn and Toby were wide-eyed at the sheer size and voluminousness of the volumes. The children jumped up eagerly.
Bellows said, “Now, now, just sit down children, and we’ll bring you each a book to look through. These are photo albums with portraits of some of London’s worst rogues and scoundrels. First we’ll show you all the female criminals—yes, the ladies commit quite a few crimes as well—all from right here in London. After you’ve had a look at these, you can look at some with the men. Scotland Yard maintains files on all these jailbirds, along with their photographs and fingerprints.”
He brought them each a book. These were so large that Jen’s nearly buried her. “Now you’ve got to keep moving and don’t spend too much time on a page. Just see if any of these faces look like anyone you saw in the square today.” He opened a window and lit his pipe, one of the new tobacco-less pipes with vapor that he was still getting used to. For the next two hours, the children pored over the Rogues Galleries. And many rogues there were.
“Just look at her nose, she looks like pig!”
“That’s a lady?”
“She looks older than Gran-Nan!”
“It’s Mrs. Colander, the greengrocer’s wife, I swear it!”
“Oh, it can’t be! Maybe she just looks like her.”
“I swear it’s her!”
“Come now, children, please, let’s keep things moving!”
And a little later:
“Ooooouu! He looks like a monkey!”
“Look at those ears!”
“They all look creepy to me! I shall never sleep again … never, ever … whew!”
“This one looks like a pirate! Look at that scar!”