Page 34 of The Locked Room

‘What, the bruiser? It can’t be.’ Squinting, she followed Harry’s pointing finger. ‘I bet they all look the same – big, ugly and stupid.’

Harry leaned closer. ‘But look at those tattoos. There’s one of a mermaid on his left forearm – I saw that back in the shop. And the anchor on his right arm. Pole’s bruiser had one of those too.’

‘Could be coincidence,’ Beth said, but she sounded uncertain. ‘Maybe he’s an artist’s muse.’

Harry’s mind was whirring. Her eyes slid to the picture of the acrobats, small and lithe. ‘What if there’s a connection between Pole and the circus?’ she said slowly. ‘The job at Berkeley Square needed an expert safe-cracker, but it also needed someone small enough to navigate the tunnel.’

Beth’s gaze settled on the acrobats. ‘There was a little one,’ she said, as though recalling a distant memory. ‘No more than a kid. You think the circus is involved with the theft of the diamond?’

‘Perhaps,’ Harry said, although the idea sounded ridiculous even to her ears.

‘I suppose it’s possible,’ Beth allowed, then frowned. ‘Hang on, didn’t I see in the papers that they found a body in that house?’

Harry felt all the adrenaline from the morning’s adventures drain away like water from a sink, leaving her empty and heartsore. She looked around for a bench where they might sit or, better yet, a public garden that might take the sting out of what she had to say, but she saw neither. In the distance, she spotted what appeared to be a pub, and checked her watch. It was almost opening time; with a bit of luck, they might even get a table and a modicum of privacy. At the very least she could take some gin to fortify herself.

‘Where are we heading now?’ Beth asked, falling into step with her. ‘Ain’t you going to answer my question?’

‘Yes,’ Harry said, and wished all over again that she didn’t have to reveal such awful news. ‘But I think we’re both going to need a drink before I do.’

11

Beth took the news of Polly Spender’s unhappy end in silence, her lips pressed tight as though she did not trust herself to speak. She listened as Harry laid out the strange circumstances of the hidden room, and Oliver’s suggestion that Polly and the maid involved in the deception of the builders renovating the house might be one and the same person. At last she shook her head, her expression stony. ‘I knew she was in with a bad lot, but I never thought she’d turn up dead.’ Her gaze met Harry’s. ‘How did it happen? Was it murder?’

‘I don’t know. A broken neck could be caused by an accident or a fall, I suppose.’ A vision of Polly’s waxen face flashed across Harry’s mind and she shuddered. ‘But she didn’t get there by accident. She was placed there for Scotland Yard to find.’

‘Not Scotland Yard,’ Beth corrected. ‘For Sherlock Holmes to find, which puts a very different spin on things. It takes a nasty sort of mind to turn death into a game like that.’

‘Yes,’ Harry said simply. ‘I’m afraid it does.’

Beth took a brooding sip of her pint. ‘The other thing I don’t understand is how they knew so far in advance that there’d be anything worth nicking.’ She cast a sideways look at Harry. ‘I’ve come across a burglar or two in my time and they’d never go to this much trouble unless they were sure there was a big prize at the end.’

It was a thought that had occurred to Harry. The theft had happened overnight, but it had been months in the planning. Someone had known about the connection between Lord Delaware and Prince Rupert, and had predicted it would present a lucrative opportunity. They had also discovered the exact date that the opportunity would arrive, and had executed the crime with masterly precision. They were bold and audacious and supremely confident, and it appeared they had no fear of getting caught. Their name – or at least the name they hid behind – was Professor Moriarty. ‘I don’t think we’re dealing with ordinary burglars,’ she replied. ‘I think it’s an organised gang, the one behind the Lord Robertson job last year. Dora Grubb is in prison for that but the jewellery she stole was never recovered. I’ve always wondered what happened to it.’

Beth’s gaze was shrewd. ‘You’re thinking of our friend Mr Pole.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Harry said, and sighed. ‘There must be a hundred shops like his in the city, and more than a few that don’t ask questions about where the valuables they’re offered come from.’

The other woman snorted. ‘A few? It’s the perfect cover to fence stolen goods. But here’s the thing – most criminals would stab each other in the back if there was something in it for them. I reckon a smart gang might have one or two places in London they trust to shift what they steal, and no more.’

It made sense, Harry had to acknowledge. ‘Which brings me onto something important. Whoever this gang is, they’re dangerous. Polly is dead and – well – I’d rather the same thing doesn’t happen to you.’ She took a breath and met Beth’s gaze. ‘I don’t want you to undertake any more investigating on my behalf, and if you decide you don’t want to work for me in a domestic capacity then I’ll understand that too.’

Beth shook her head. ‘Not blooming likely. I told my mum I’d found a job and she’s already spent half my wages on new clothes for my sisters.’ She eyed Harry knowingly. ‘Besides, you’re not going to stop investigating, are you?’

‘No,’ Harry admitted. ‘But it’s one thing putting myself in danger. I can’t do the same to anyone else.’

‘I see,’ Beth said, folding her arms. ‘So you’ve told Mr Fortescue to sling his hook as well, have you?’

Harry paused. ‘No, but that’s different.’

‘Because he’s an important lawyer and you need his help.’

‘Yes,’ Harry said, uncomfortably aware that was only part of the reason she hadn’t suggested to Oliver that he back away.

‘Thing is, you need my help too. I can go places you can’t, talk to people who wouldn’t give you or a fancy lawyer the time of day.’ Beth leaned forward. ‘And Polly makes it personal. She wasn’t a bad kid and she doesn’t deserve to be treated like a piece in a game. If I can do anything to catch the monster who did that, I will.’

It was no less than Harry expected. Even so, she still felt honour-bound to press the point. ‘But⁠—’

‘But nothing,’ Beth insisted. ‘You ain’t getting rid of me that easily – there’s still the matter of your brother’s dodgy engagement, for a start. The clock’s ticking on that score – this is her last weekend at the Hot Spot, remember?’