Strangled in Soho

by Samantha Summers

  DCI Williams grinned, but I had to admit, Violet’s reasoning was sound. “Now, let us look at this safe.”

  The three of us made our way over. The lock on it was old school, the type that you had to turn in a circle multiple times and stop on the right number.

  “This is a Pandora Six-Thousand,” Violet said as she looked carefully at the safe, making sure not to touch anything. “They are custom made and advertised as being one of the safest vaults available for high-end jewellery shops. Note that there is no number pad; that is so that the record of the numbers touched cannot be determined. However, despite the old-style exterior, there is a lot of technology in this machine. The code to enter is changed every twelve hours, and is sent via text message to a pre-determined phone number. How our thieves were able to access a number of those text messages, I am not quite certain yet. The vault is completely tamper-proof, and contains a seismic detector, so that any attempt at drilling through the vault will immediately trigger an alarm. As far as I am aware, no one until now had successfully managed to break into this vault before.”

  “Don’t tell me that means you’re going to give it a shot too,” I said, and Violet shot me a rueful smile.

  “Alas, no. We do not have the algorithm with us, nor do we have the data available to allow us to use it to crack this safe. We will need Simon for that.”

  “I’ll go and get Simon to come back here and open the vault.”

  A minute later the jeweller walked into the back room. “I’ve left my son alone out there with the customers, but if it gets busy he’ll have to call me back out,” Simon warned.

  “That is fine,” Violet said. “Please, go about opening this safe the way you would any other day. Do not do anything differently.”

  Simon strode over to the locked vault, took his phone from his pocket, took a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and put them on, then after presumably reading the code to open the safe, he put the phone down and turned the dial on the vault four times. There was a click, and he opened the vault door.

  I could see handfuls of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires and a few expensive watches glimmering inside the vault. There had to be at least a hundred thousand pounds’ worth of jewellery in there, on top of everything in the display cases outside.

  “When does the code for the vault change?” Violet asked him.

  “Six every morning, and six at night,” Simon replied without hesitation.

  “Do you look at the code every day?”

  “Only the morning code. I get here a little bit after seven, so I need it to get into our stock for the day, and by six it’s always off the floor and put back in the safe. I always get the text with the night time code, but I’m home by then and usually don’t even bother looking at it. I try to keep away from my phone after work hours, until I go to bed and set my alarm, anyway.”

  Violet nodded slowly. “Do you wear your glasses at night, when you set that alarm?”

  “No, I can usually stumble my way through that part of my routine,” Simon said. “Although I don’t understand what this has to do with the robbery.”

  “Well I do, and that is what is important. Now, the pen you have in your pocket, can I look at it?”

  “This thing?” Simon asked, handing Violet a Mont Blanc pen engraved with the initials S.R. that had been in his shirt pocket.

  “Oui, that,” Violet replied, taking the pen from him and examining it closely. “Do you wear this in your pocket all the time?”

  “Yes, I do,” Simon replied, looking at DCI Williams, as if for an explanation as to why the famous detective Violet Despuis wanted to know about his pen. A moment later, she smiled in triumph.

  “I believe we know now how the thieves got data from the machine,” Violet said, unscrewing the cap from the pen and examining it closely. “If you look carefully, just above the pen clip, you will notice a tiny camera built into the cap, made to mimic this pen exactly.”

  I took the pen cap from Violet and squinted at where she’d mentioned. Sure enough, by looking super closely, in the right light, the tiniest glint of a lens became visible.

  “So that was how they found out the code!” Simon wailed. “That means whoever did this must have been in my shop. I must have let him use my pen.”

  Violet nodded. “Yes, that is most likely. I would suspect that it was done months ago, and that the thieves have been collecting the data ever since as they attempted to gain access to the algorithm the Oxford students were working on.”

  “So now we know the how, we just don’t know the who,” I said.

  “Yes, but more importantly, we do not know the why,” Violet said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The other two robberies were executed just as well as this one, and their take at both previous robberies was far superior. Here, they left a number of watches and jewels in the safe. It is not as though they were in a rush; they had not been caught and they were obviously professional enough to not panic. They had plenty of time to get in and out. They had disabled the alarm system. Why did they leave so many jewels here? That is what I want to know.”

  “Maybe they were worried someone would see them?” Simon ventured a guess.

  “No. These were not the type to worry. They closed the roller shutter after entering, and I guarantee you that they ensured no one saw them enter. These were not the kind of men to do things badly. There is something else at work here. Anyway, I think I have seen enough here for now. Come, Cassie, we will go home for now.”

  “I’ll drop you off at home,” DCI Williams said. “Saves you the fare on a taxi, and I want to talk to someone I know in Kensington anyway.”

  We left the jewellery store, and to be honest I kind of felt like we’d uncovered more questions than we had when we walked in. It seemed like we were even further away from solving Amelia Waters’ murder.

  Chapter 16

  When we got home, Violet said she was going to spend some time in the study, thinking about the case. I excused myself to my room, making sure to step over the still-broken stair, and picked up my iPad once more. I decided to try and dig a little bit further into the newspaper case. After all, if I could prove that Keegan Coors had been bribed to write an article, I would… well, to be honest I wasn’t really sure what I would do. I’d figure it out when I got there. But surely I could use it as leverage somehow to make the paper stop writing nasty things about Violet, right?

  I started off by Googling the name of the German firm that was attempting to purchase the London Bank of Commerce: Bergen Gruppe.

  Of course, most of the articles I came across were in German, but thanks to Google Translate that wasn’t much of an issue. From reading a few articles, it quickly became apparent that Bergen Gruppe was one of the largest banking conglomerates in Germany. Not content with sticking within their borders, they had spent the last five years aggressively expanding internationally: they now owned major banks in Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Greece, Italy and Spain, and on top of the current deal they had in the works with the London Bank of Commerce, they were also in negotiations with two banks in Portugal.

  The Euro values involved in these deals were absolutely mind-boggling.

  English-language articles that I read about the deal seemed to be evenly split as to whether or not the deal was a good idea. Some lauded the fact that the English banking giant would be able to remain solvent after being acquired by the German company, as they were hit hard during the recession of 2008. Others bemoaned the idea that a London icon would move into foreign hands.

  Of course, The London Post-Tribune seemed to be part of the latter group, with most of their opinions written about the merger being critical rather than praising.

  I didn’t really know how else to go about looking for information, so I decided to see what other countries thought about the merger. I created a list of the banks that had been taken over by Bergen Gruppe and began to read articles written in those languages. In Slovenia, the re
ception seemed pretty positive, and I couldn’t find any recent articles written about it that were negative toward the idea. In Greece, however, the sentiment was strongly opposed.

  Using Google Translate, I read through one article describing the merger:

  At the headquarters of the company in Munich, the enthusiasm in the air was visible. Men and women-who did not wear anything other than the best costumes they bought in Milan-walk through the glass and metal corridors that look more like science fiction movies than the outskirts of the Bavarian capital have a remarkable source in the footsteps. Their enthusiasm and positivity make even the German language friendly and welcoming. As the deal is to be confirmed on Wednesday, it seems obvious now that nothing will stop this German company from owning one of the largest Greek banks.

  Ok, so Google Translate still wasn’t the best. Still, as I read the translation, I frowned to myself. Something about that Google translation seemed really familiar. It was like I’d read it before. In fact, I was almost certain that I had. My brow furrowed in concentration as I typed away on the iPad, my excitement growing. Maybe I’d been all wrong about this after all. Maybe Keegan Coors wasn’t being paid to tank the deal in the press. Maybe Keegan was plagiarising his articles!

  About three minutes later I managed to find the article I’d been looking at. Sure enough, it read almost word-for-word the same way as the article in the Greek newspaper:

  At the company’s headquarters in Munich, the excitement in the air was palpable. The men and women – dressed in nothing but the best suits bought in Milan – walking through the glass-and-metal corridors that look more like they belong in a science fiction movie than the outskirts of the Bavarian capital have a noticeable spring in their step, and their enthusiasm and positivity make even the German language seem friendly and inviting.

  I had him! This had to be what Charles Dartmouth was talking about. And what he meant when he said to look globally. Keegan Coombs was getting away with plagiarism by directly translating works from Greek papers. After all, his mother had been Greek, he probably grew up speaking in Greek with her. It wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine that she taught him to read her mother tongue as well.

  Just then, my phone pinged next to me. It was a text from Jake, asking me if I wanted to hang out.

  Can’t right now. Busy. Talk later, I texted back quickly. I felt a little bit bad; it felt like I hadn’t seen Jake in forever, but really it had only been a few days. Maybe it was the fact that the last time I’d seen him was when I was at the hospital that made it seem worse than it really was.

  “Violet,” I called out as I made my way down the stairs, remembering to avoid the tampered step at the last moment.

  “Oui?” she replied. She was lying upside down on the couch in the study, her legs draped over the back of the couch as her hair fell to the floor. She looked up–well, down, I supposed–at me, questions in her eyes.

  “What… are you doing?” I asked, looking at her.

  “I am thinking in a position which maximizes the blood flow to my brain, stimulating me through both the increased blood flow and also by changing my perspective on a scene that I see on a regular basis. But surely that is not the question you have come to ask.”

  “No, uh, I need to know where I’d go to find someone that speaks Greek.”

  “Palmers Green, in North London if you are looking for a Greek speaker in general. If you require the services of someone closer to home, go to the gyro place on Gloucester Road. Ask for Ioannis, tell him Violet sent you. He will tell you anything you need to know.”

  “Wow… thanks,” I said. Gloucester Road was only a few minutes’ walk away, and knowing someone specific was going to be a lot easier than asking random Greek-looking strangers if they could help me figure out if someone was plagiarising someone else.

  “It is not a problem. Now, go. I am thinking.”

  As I left the front door I waved at Mrs. Michaels, who was in her garden, and did a double take when I realized what I originally thought were clippers was actually a machete. She waved at me with her gardening gloves, the smile under her wide-brimmed straw hat making her look so innocent that I almost doubted myself for a minute until I saw the long blade gleaming in the sun.

  It appeared Mrs. Michaels was definitely ready for anything the murderer had planned for Violet and me.

  Shaking my head slightly–but at the same time being a bit thankful Mrs. Michaels was there, just in case–I made my way toward Gloucester Street, my iPad in hand. I actually knew exactly which small Greek hole-in-the-wall Violet was talking about, I’d eaten gyros there a few times and had to say, they were pretty good.

  When I got to the counter, the young man working greeted me with the kind of smile and hello that I knew he saved for the locals he recognized.

  “What can I get for you today?” he asked, leaning against the counter. My mouth watered as I looked at the standard pictures on the wall, but knew that I was here for something else. “Maybe in a bit, I was told to come here and talk to Ioannis,” I said.

  “Sure thing,” he nodded. “Dad! Come out here, there’s someone who needs to speak to you!”

  A minute later the man’s father came out. Wearing a stained apron that bulged over his belly, with a balding head and a friendly face, Ioannis made his way toward me.

  “Hello there,” he told me, shaking my hand. He still had the smallest hint of a Greek accent when he spoke, but had obviously been in England for a long time. “Looking for a job, are you?”

  “Um, no,” I replied. “Violet Despuis sent me here, she told me that you’d be able to translate some Greek for me.”

  Ioannis laughed. “But of course! Anything for a friend of Violet. What can I do for you?”

  I opened the documents where I had copied and pasted the stuff that I suspected was plagiarized, and showed them to Ioannis.

  “I need to know if the English and the Greek in these files essentially say the same thing. Would they be considered plagiarism?”

  Ioannis’ eyes scanned the page quickly. He muttered to himself as he read, and then looked up at me.

  “Yes, these translations are good. I would say the English and the Greek works are identical.”

  My suspicions were officially confirmed by a source far more reliable than Google Translate. Keegan Coors had been plagiarising works from Greek newspapers and passing them off as his own.

  “Thank you!” I said to Ioannis. “Thank you so much!”

  “Not a problem. A friend of Violet’s is a friend of mine. Come back to see me anytime if you have more questions, if we are open, I am here.”

  “I will, thanks,” I said, my excitement making me giddy.

  As I walked back home, a delicious chicken gyro in hand, I knew that I had exactly the information that I needed to make sure Keegan Coors and The London Post-Tribune stopped writing lies about Violet. And I’d figured it out all by myself! Well, almost, anyway.

  Chapter 17

  When I got back home, Violet was still lying on the couch in the same position. Now, however, Biscuit had found out about it and was currently entertaining himself by pouncing on Violet’s hair as it lay on the floor.

  “Stop it, let her think,” I scolded my cat, picking him up off the floor as he let out a meow of displeasure.

  “It is all right, he was not bothering me,” Violet said.

  “Not yet, anyway. Cats are weird. One minute they’re innocently playing with your hair, the next they’re doing the same thing with your scalp. Trust me, I probably just saved your life.”

  Violet laughed as she sat up. Biscuit was now perched on my shoulder, looking down at the last piece of chicken in my gyro. I sighed, picked it out of the wrap and handed it to him, and he happily ran off toward the kitchen with the chicken in his mouth. Smiling after my cute little cat, I crumpled the empty wrapper as Violet sat up.

  “Was Ioannis able to help you with your Greek problem?”

  “He was, thanks for recommendin
g him,” I said. I didn’t want to explain to Violet what I’d discovered. After all, I knew that if she knew I was trying to get a newspaper to stop printing lies about her, she would just tell me not to worry about it, and that she’d had lies printed about her numerous times before.

  This was my solution to the problem, and my solution alone.

  Luckily for me, before Violet had a chance to answer any more questions, there was a ring at the front door.

  “Ah!” Violet exclaimed. “Très bien! That will be Andrew, he is a carpenter that I have hired to fix the step for us. Finally, we will no longer have to watch our step when we go up the stairs,” she said happily, making her way to the front door.

  I couldn’t help but notice she looked through the peephole just to be sure before she opened the door wide and greeted him.

  “’Allo, Andrew, how are you?”

  “Violet,” the man in front of her replied, breaking out into a grin. “How have you been?”

  “Well, someone has tampered with one of my steps in an attempt to kill me, and my friend Cassie, but apart from that things have been fine. How about yourself?”

  “Well, Jenny’s pregnant again,” he replied, running a hand through his ginger hair. He was about six feet tall, and built like a tradesman, with that muscular look that obviously came more from hard labor than from the gym.

  “Congratulations, my dear!” Violet said. “Come, come, let me show you the step.”

  Andrew nodded to me with a smile as Violet led him toward the staircase, and I sat down on the couch while waiting for her to come back.

  “This is a right nasty piece of work,” I heard Andrew say when Violet showed him the step. “I can definitely replace that step. I can’t make this one safe again, no chance in that.”

  “I believe I have an extra step or two from the builder in storage, somewhere,” Violet said, and about ten minutes later, while Andrew was handily working on the step, she came back into the main room.

  “I have an idea about catching the diamond thieves,” she told me as she made her way to the computer. “However, at this time, that is all it is: an idea. I need to do some more research before I am certain.”