When they were out of earshot, he hissed, “What business did you have asking them such questions?”
Katherine tried to retract her arm, but he laid his hand over hers, pinning her to him as he stopped and turned his head to examine her.
“I am investigating a string of thefts, as you well know.”
The Sydney Hotel loomed not twenty feet away, the footman by the door too far away to be privy to their heated conversation. Given the tension between them — obvious at a distance, no doubt — the stranger seemed curious. He barely glanced at the women as he opened the door to guide them out of the establishment.
“Mr. and Mrs. Julien are kind, generous people. They’ve given everything to seeing that their grandson has the care he needs to survive. You don’t know the scars the war leaves on a man, inside and out. Too many people aren’t equipped to help, and so they abandon their loved ones to endure the aftermath alone.”
The vehemence in his voice rendered Katherine speechless. He was a war veteran as well, so he knew precisely the pain Scott Julien endured. Perhaps not the physical pain, for he still seemed of whole body, but emotionally… His hazel eyes held shadows that she didn’t dare ask to bring into the light. Who had abandoned him upon his return from the war with Napoleon?
“I know they are,” she whispered. In truth, she wanted to give up thinking of them as suspects at all. But she was a detective, and if she wanted to unmask the thief, she had to follow every avenue. She’d unearthed secrets before that people preferred to leave hidden. The truth would exonerate Mr. and Mrs. Julien.
Or it might implicate them further.
Firming her voice, she added, “They weren’t at the baths on Sunday, Wayland. Don’t you find that the least bit suspicious?”
He dropped his arm and moved a step away, gesturing at the distant pair and their grandson. “They were fetching medicine for their grandson. You want to suspect them for so altruistic a motive? I can’t believe you, Katherine.”
“Katherine!”
For a moment, she thought there was an echo. Belatedly, she realized someone else was calling her name. Harriet sprinted to them and slid to a stop, bracing her hands on her knees as she gasped for breath.
“Katherine, you must come at once. There’s been another theft!”
Chapter Eleven
Another theft.
“When? Where?”
Harriet caught Katherine’s hand and dragged her down the street, past the Sydney Hotel. Wayland followed, keeping pace at an easy lope while Harriet babbled.
“It happened over an hour ago just down the street… or at least I think it did. You see, we don’t know when it truly happened, for Mrs. Quicke wasn’t home to find her jewels missing, and she’s only just returned an hour ago. I’ve searched everywhere for you. I even ran down to the baths in case you were with Lyle in the Pump Room! I knew you’d want to be the first person to investigate the scene of the crime, lest something be disturbed. But it’s taken so long to find you—”
Katherine dug in her heels and pulled her maid to a stop. “Harriet! Take a breath. You’re turning purple.”
As the other woman gasped for air, Katherine turned her. She bracketed Harriet’s shoulders in her hands and schooled her to breathe evenly. When the maid seemed a bit less panicked, Katherine spoke calmly.
“Let’s go through this slowly, now. Mrs. Quicke is the victim?”
Harriet nodded. “Her jewels were taken from the townhouse she rents on Sydney Place.”
That was a good start. “Has she said which jewels?”
“The citrines. I don’t know what, precisely, or from where in the house. You may have to learn that from her.”
Katherine nodded. “And this occurred an hour ago?”
“So she thinks. The thief only took her citrines, so she’s been saying that her return must have frightened him away from the other jewels.”
“Where is Mrs. Quicke’s townhouse?”
“This way.” Harriet turned on her heel, this time not leading Katherine by the hand. She and Wayland hastened in the maid’s wake, even though their destination became apparent before too long.
It seemed as though every gossip in Bath had amassed outside Number 10 Sydney Place. The growing crowd drew the attention of passersby, who invariably slowed or stopped to learn more about the disturbance. The Marquess of Bath waded into the thick of the crowd, reassuring everyone he passed that the authorities had the matter well in hand and they had nothing to worry about.
As Katherine drew closer to him, hoping to discover what he knew about the theft, Lady Dalhousie’s loud laments drowned out any hope she had of gaining Lord Bath’s attention.
“Why her? My necklace is worth far more than a few paltry citrines!”
Katherine groaned. Thankfully, the sound was devoured by more of Lady Dalhousie’s mournful bragging. As if all of Bath didn’t already know the origin and worth of her necklace!
Lady Dalhousie was rivalled in her enthusiasm by only one person — a hysterical Mrs. Quicke. The woman, no more than ten years older than Katherine, was far removed from her usual elegant, composed demeanor. Wisps of her hair had escaped her coiffure, thrown up in all directions as if the strands couldn’t decide how best to free themselves. The woman’s fingers dug into Katherine’s arm as she stumbled into her path.
“Oh, Lady Katherine, the worst has happened!”
She, at the very least, did not seem the least bit pleased to have been robbed. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, tracking through the powder she’d carefully applied for her outing. She looked distraught.
Katherine tried in vain to detach herself. “All is not lost, Mrs. Quicke. I’m certain Lord Bath will see the culprit apprehended and your jewels returned safely.”
“He violated my bedchamber.”
Gritting her teeth, Katherine tried to wedge her hand beneath Mrs. Quicke’s fingers. If the woman was going to go into vapors, Katherine would prefer she do so while holding her hand and not crushing her arm.
She amended that opinion a moment later when Mrs. Quicke proceeded to squeeze her hand in a grip like iron.
“I’m certain you’re perfectly safe,” Katherine muttered, trying not to show her pain. Nor her impatience to be rid of the victim — tarnation, she had a crime scene to investigate! “Lord Bath will increase the security on the street, and no one will bother you again.”
“It won’t help.” Mrs. Quicke collapsed against Katherine’s shoulder, sobbing.
Why now? It wasn’t as though Katherine knew the woman personally. She simply happened to be the closest body who didn’t seem to blame Mrs. Quicke for having been robbed instead of them. Even Mrs. Oliver seemed vexed that she was no longer the source of attention.
In between the woman’s sobs, Katherine deciphered her words.
“Our butler… we hire… hired him when we rented the house… He was… stationed… by the door” — her voice heightened with distress on the last word — “the entire time! He… he never saw… nobody entered! They had to…” Her shoulders shook with sobs, and she buried her face in Katherine’s sleeve, muffling her voice. Katherine gleaned only two distinct words after that: climb and window.
“You believe the thief climbed up to your bedchamber window and entered that way?”
Mrs. Quicke raised her teary, red-rimmed eyes and nodded. “He must have. I left my citrines on the vanity table when I went out in these.” She touched the ruby pendant at her throat. “The window faces the alley. If he climbed in once, who is to say” — tears spilled down her cheeks — “he won’t again! He left so much behind. We aren’t safe!”
When she stumbled forward as if to cry into Katherine’s shoulder once more, Katherine deftly sidestepped. She guided Mrs. Quicke into Wayland’s arms instead. At his irked expression, Katherine shrugged and gave him a look of apology. This was business. She had to investigate that alley before Mr. Salmon arrived on the scene — if she wasn’t already too late.
; The crowd, gathered around the front door to the townhouse, didn’t seem to notice as Katherine slipped into the shadows of the nearby alley. Her slipper sank into moist earth instead of cobblestone. When she glanced down, she frowned. No, not earth. Clay, very like the clay affixed to Mr. Julien’s shoe.
She hurried on, paying more attention to the ground, lest she disturb the evidence. As she found the first clear shoe impression, she grinned to herself. If only Lyle were near! He had a plaster that hardened in the print to leave a perfect impression of the boot size. Fortunately, she always kept string in her reticule. It would provide her with something.
As she kneeled next to the footprint and fumbled with the ties on her reticule, a man’s boot wedged its way into her vision, squarely on top of the shoe print!
“Lady Katherine, what are you doing here? This is a restricted area.”
Glaring, she craned her neck to face Mr. Salmon. “You know very well what I’m doing here. I’m investigating.”
“The Marquess of Bath hired me to catch the thief. Kindly remove yourself and stay out of my way.”
“I can help you,” Katherine said through gritted teeth. A blatant lie. She had no intention of sharing information with Mr. Salmon, especially when she suspected he might be the thief.
“I don’t need your help,” he said. “Now, will you leave, or shall I call for the marquess? He brought me over straight away when he heard the news.”
Why was he so adamant to rub her nose in the fact that Lord Bath had hired him? Had he never been hired before? Katherine rubbed shoulders with marquesses and dukes all the time, so Lord Bath’s title had little bearing on her esteem for him. Rather, that had been built on having interacted with him in the past as well as her father’s good opinion of him. Although, given that he had fallen prey to a lazy, inept detective such as Mr. Salmon, perhaps she ought to amend her opinion of the marquess’s intelligence and good sense.
Katherine straightened and shook out her skirts. You ruined my evidence. And judging by the trampled earth mere paces away beneath a second-story window, she was willing to wager that he had already destroyed any hope of finding untarnished evidence. She was wasting her time out here.
“Very well. I’ll leave. Good day, Mr. Salmon.”
She turned on her heel and strode back to the gathering, but she didn’t go far. If Mr. Salmon had been preoccupied all this time in examining the alleyway, perhaps he hadn’t yet had a chance to search through the townhouse. Katherine hastened toward the ajar door, hoping no one would stop her.
As she eased it open and stepped inside, she groaned. Footprints, outlined in clay, marred the floor, leading up the stairs. Mr. Salmon must already have been in here. She shut the door behind her.
“Salmon?” Footsteps sounded, and a moment later, the Marquess of Bath emerged from the staircase. He stopped short. “Lady Katherine, whatever are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d lend my eye,” she told him succinctly. “Mr. Salmon seems quite at the limits of his capabilities with the alley.”
Lord Bath hesitated. “I don’t think your father would approve if I let you into a crime scene. It isn’t good for your sensibilities.”
Katherine balled her fists. Violence wouldn’t be good for her feminine sensibilities either, but he tempted her sorely every time he sought to lay out her future and her choices. Tightly, she told him, “My father would encourage me to do so if it so pleased me. Mrs. Quicke has personally asked me to look into the matter, to make certain that she will be safe tonight.”
When the marquess looked dubious, Katherine waved her hand toward the door.
“Ask her for yourself, if you’d like. She’s currently with Captain Wayland, who is helping to calm her. She is in quite the agitated state.”
As he released an audible breath, Lord Bath’s shoulders bowed inward. He gestured to the stairs. “This way.”
As Katherine followed him to the second floor, she noticed the clay clinging to his heels. With every step, he left a reddish imprint on the runner. Sard it all, had every person in Bath strolled through that alley today? Even Lyle, skilled though he was, would never be able to retrieve evidence from it now!
On the second floor, she found the bedchamber easily. The bed was neatly made, every ivory-backed comb and brush on the vanity was neatly in place, but if Mrs. Quicke was to be believed, the jewelry she had left there was absent.
“Do you know precisely what was taken?” Katherine asked.
Lord Bath frowned as he turned from his position by the window. “She didn’t tell you?”
“She was sobbing over her citrines, but she didn’t specify in what form they were taken. Was it a necklace? A ring? Earrings?”
“All of the above, I believe. If I recall correctly from the last time she wore the jewels, they came as a set.”
“And they were all left on the vanity…” Katherine peered around the room, her hopes sinking. It didn’t look as though there was much to be found here. Lord Bath had obviously been in the room, for there were footprints in places along the floor, including ones he had recently made when he’d entered. She would find no clues there. What else might the thief have disturbed? If, indeed, this theft was committed by the Burglar of Bath.
Katherine peered around the room. Atop the wardrobe was an ornately carved box. Her height granted her the leverage to see inside when she opened it. Myriad jewels winked back at her, some clearly more expensive than a set of citrines. Why then had the thief snatched the jewels they had, if not because they had been left in the open?
Opportunity. That seemed to be the thief’s motive, plain and simple. The quickest, easiest jewels to reach their fingers.
“Are we certain the hired butler didn’t take the set? It was left on the vanity for anyone to see.” The thief couldn’t have known as much, however; it would have been a stroke of luck, if indeed the burglar had entered by the window to find the jewels right in front of their nose, ready to pluck.
“It is a possibility. Do you think I should have him detained and questioned?”
Katherine pursed her lips then shook her head. “If it were him, why didn’t he abscond with all the jewels? The worth of that box must be enough to feed, clothe, and house a person for the rest of his days. Much more stability than a mere set of citrines will gain him.”
“Then you think the theft committed by the Burglar of Bath after all.”
At the mention of the name, the marquess looked a bit queasy. Katherine crossed to him, laying a hand on his sleeve. He had his cuffs rolled up for once, baring his forearms to the elbow. “Perhaps you’re right. This is too much for my delicate sensibilities. Why don’t you give me a moment more to search and make certain that Mrs. Quicke will be safe, and then we’ll go down?”
Nodding, Lord Bath moved to the doorway, where he hovered as Katherine searched for traces of silver. If the theft had been committed by the notorious Burglar of Bath, perhaps they had left the same clue as they had at the last crime scene. She started at the window, where the shutters were open wide to let in the air. Mr. Salmon was still trampling the evidence below as he now ran his hand up and down the walls as if searching for a handhold.
Although Katherine was no acrobat, it was clear to her that the wall of the neighboring house was close enough that a person in good physical form, perhaps without skirts to hamper their progress, would be able to use the proximity to lever themselves between the two walls and climb that way. However, it would be conspicuous if they were caught. Therefore, the theft had occurred at a time when no one had been walking past, or else the thief was extraordinarily agile and quick at climbing. Which, given the speed at which Mrs. Oliver’s necklace must have gone missing, Katherine couldn’t rule out. The thief was quick enough not to be noticed.
“If this was the Burglar of Bath, I believe we should leave the matter for Mr. Salmon to handle.” Lord Bath’s voice began a bit tentatively but gained confidence as he spoke.
Katherine turned from
the window. “The theft, certainly. But poor Mrs. Quicke is worried over returning to her room tonight. I must make certain that it is safe.”
“Mr. Salmon can handle that matter, as well. What would you know of matters of security?”
“Perhaps I can be of assistance.”
Katherine heard Wayland’s voice before he stepped up behind Lord Bath, lingering in the doorway. Wayland stood a head taller than the other man. His height, or perhaps his military posture, granted him an air of authority. His voice rang like steel.
“I am an expert in security. I’m certain you’re aware of this, given my background. What seems to be of concern?”
For once, Katherine was pleased for his interruption. She beckoned him closer. “Mrs. Quicke is beside herself about returning to this room when it has been so violated by the thief. I’d like to reassure her of her safety.”
Wayland shouldered past Lord Bath, who weakly repeated, “Shouldn’t we leave this to Mr. Salmon? We don’t want to disturb anything.”
“I am a detective as well,” Wayland answered, his voice commanding. “I assure you, we will disturb nothing. Come, Katherine, what do you know of the entry?”
“The thief entered by way of the window. It was unlatched and open when I arrived. I imagine it must have been so during the day as well, to provide air to the room, for the latch looks sturdy.” Katherine demonstrated by pulling the shutter partway closed and showing him the latch.
As he leaned closer, their shoulders touched.
“What are you looking for?” he whispered.
“Silver,” she shot back.
With a nod, he stepped back. “I concur, but we should check the room for any signs that the thief might have entered by another route.”
“Is that necessary?” Lord Bath asked. “Like I said, Mr. Salmon needs…”
“It’s necessary,” Wayland answered, his voice flat.
“The thief might not have been an intruder,” the marquess persisted. “Lady Katherine surmised that the butler might be at fault.”
The Baffling Burglaries of Bath Page 15