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“I think we have to, don’t you?” Joe replied.
He knew from the look on Marguerite’s face that she was going to insist on going with them.
“I know, you want to come too,” he murmured dryly.
Marguerite nodded.
“Well, there is no time like the present. Sayers was seen high-tailing it out of the area. I think that now we have been there he won’t think that we would return to it. So, if we are going to search it we need to do it quickly before he sends in reinforcements to retrieve whatever he has stashed there.”
“Let’s go then,” Kerrigan murmured.
Marguerite followed the men, suddenly very aware of how tall and strong they were. Lost in the middle of them it was difficult not to be in awe of them. They were all determined and very capable men, who were quite evidently on familiar territory. None of them showed any concern or trepidation about what had happened just now. It was as though it was an ordinary, run-of-the-mill thing to do to shoot someone in cold blood.
She, on the other hand, was a quivering wreck.
“Where are the bodies?” Marguerite gasped with a frown when they turned into the street and found it to be empty.
In spite of the number of bullets that had been fired, there wasn’t a casualty to be seen.
Joe gave her a warning look. “It is best not to ask,” he replied.
Marguerite followed the men in a strange kind of procession to the back of the shop. This time they went to the workshop. Joe hefted the bunch of keys and set to work on the locks. She shuddered with revulsion and quickly turned away. Seconds later, she followed them into the workshop.
The first thing she noticed when they entered was the amount of packaging material littering practically every surface.
“This is wrong,” she declared firmly as she studied the straw all over the floor.
“It is not your fathers?” Kerrigan asked.
“No, he does use this workspace to package everything, but he would never leave his workroom in this state. The fibres from the straw would get into the mechanism of the clocks. If you knew my father you would know that he is fastidiously neat and tidy. He would never work in a mess like this.”
“Would Donaldson, do you think?” Joe asked as he poked through the contents of a workbench that was littered with all sorts of debris.
“My father ran this place, Donaldson ran the shop, or so I thought.”
“Is this likely to be Donaldson’s mess?” Joe asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I do know that my father wouldn’t stand for this.”
She moved toward a packing crate the far corner of the room. Kerrigan and Jacob were prowling through the various items littering the shelves lining either side of the workshop. When Marguerite took a step away from the box she was rummaging through, a loud crunch beneath her foot made her look down. She pushed the straw off the object she had just stood on and picked it up. Shaking her head in disbelief, she turned to Joe.
“Look, Joe. It’s a ring,” she whispered.
She lifted it toward the light so she could see it better. While the main stone was still in situ, its mount was now twisted from the pressure of her weight. It was quite evident that it was brand new. The gold shone brightly even in the darkened interior of the workspace.
“What’s that?” Joe took it from her and studied it with Kerrigan.
Marguerite began to rummage through the rest of the straw.
“Is there anything else in
there?” Joe asked.
“Not as far as I can tell,” she replied. “They must have dropped it by mistake when they were packing something.”
“I think it is one of many items they intended to ship out of here. They either didn’t know it was gone or couldn’t find it in the mess. Either way, it is valuable evidence we need to get someone to take a look at.”
Joe didn’t say as much to Marguerite but its discovery didn’t bode well for her father. If he was the one thing standing in Sayers way from a legitimate way of transporting his stolen goods up and down the country then Eustace would be silenced, permanently.
