No Stone Unturned, page 28
part #1 of Lucy Lawrence Series
Offices of Bradford & Co., Fleet Street
It was the longest hour and a half of Lucy’s life. She fidgeted and fretted and kept looking at the clock on the wall above the clerk’s head. What if Mr Bradford decided not to return but went home instead? Or decided to go to his club? It was hard not to take a pessimistic view: her luck tended to be of the fickle variety of late.
Out on the window ledge, a couple of pigeons were sitting surveying their world. Not for them a life on the run, she thought gloomily. Of course, it was her own fault. A sensible woman would have given over the clues to the police, done her civic duty as it were, and not undertaken a hair-raising escapade with death within touching distance. She almost laughed aloud. Who was she fooling? She knew she would do exactly the same again. Charlie’s death had set her on this path, and she had to see it through to the bitter end.
The door swung open and the elderly gentleman who had bumped into her outside in the lane entered the office. When he saw her, he threw a questioning glance at the clerk who was hastily rising to his feet.
“Good evening, Mr Bradford,” the clerk said.
“What’s going on, Tattersall?” the man asked, glancing again at her. “Office should have closed an hour ago.”
“The lady insisted on seeing you. She says it is in relation to one of Mr Stone’s cases and can’t wait until tomorrow, Mr Bradford,” Tattersall said.
Bradford’s craggy brows drew together. “Is this so, madam? Might I enquire who you are? You do look familiar. Haven’t we met before?”
“Yes, we bumped into each other in the lane earlier,” Lucy answered.
Bradford’s colour rose and he coughed. “Yes, well—”
“My name is Lucy Lawrence, widow of Charles Lawrence,” she said, rising from her seat.
Bradford was still frowning. “Name means nothing to me!” He glanced at the clerk, one eyebrow raised.
“Not clients, sir,” Tattersall said.
“I don’t see—” Bradford said, looking increasingly perplexed.
“Sir, I know this is highly irregular, but I have risked my life to come here,” Lucy explained. “If we cannot conclude our business this evening there may not be another opportunity.” She watched as Mr Bradford mulled it over.
With a grunt he waved her towards the door of an inner office. “Very well, madam. You may go, Tattersall. I’ll lock up when we are done.”
“Take a seat, Mrs Lawrence,” Bradford said, following her in and closing over the door.
Sitting down, he frowned at her over the top of his glasses. “Perhaps you would care to explain what is going on? I’m a busy man and don’t have time for any missish nonsense.”
Before Lucy could reply, she heard the outer door of the office burst open. Much to her astonishment, Chief Inspector McQuillan almost tumbled into the room.
Bradford jumped to his feet. “What the devil, sir?”
McQuillan ignored him and came up to Lucy. “Are you all right, Mrs Lawrence? We’ve been extremely worried. Half the force is looking for you.”
“I’m fine, Chief Inspector. But I don’t understand—why are you here?” she asked, though there was something comforting about the policeman’s presence. At least, she trusted him.
“Police, eh? Dashed impertinent entering a place of business like that!” exclaimed Bradford.
“My apologies, sir. I’m Chief Inspector McQuillan from Vine Street. Mr Stone sent a telegram from York before he boarded a London train. He suspected Mrs Lawrence might turn up here and asked me to confirm it.” He turned to Lucy. “You have not come to any harm? We searched King’s Cross hoping to find you. Phin is beside himself with worry.”
Lucy baulked. “Is he indeed? So worried he has been spying on me!”
McQuillan blinked. “You have misunderstood, surely, Mrs Lawrence; he has been trying to protect you.”
“Excuse me!” Bradford interrupted, now very red in the face. “Would either of you care to tell me what is going on? I do not take kindly to my office being invaded.”
“My apologies, sir. This is Charlie Lawrence’s widow,” McQuillan said. “I believe you will find her an interesting woman.”
“The lady has already told me her husband’s name—it means nothing to me, sir.”
McQuillan sat down beside Lucy. “It is to do with the maharajah’s stolen sapphires,” he said.
Bradford’s eyes popped. “That Charlie Lawrence! I see. But we closed the file on Stone’s say-so months ago, and despite all the damn fuss that Khan chappie kicked up.” Bradford’s stern gaze settled on Lucy. “Were you in cahoots with your husband?” he asked.
“Certainly not,” Lucy snapped, wondering if she had fallen into some strange nightmare world.
“Chief Inspector, I am at a loss. Would you care to clarify?” Bradford said.
“It would be best if Mrs Lawrence explains it,” McQuillan replied, giving her an encouraging smile. “Though perhaps we should wait for Mr Stone? He is on his way.”
“No!” she cried. “He is not to be trusted.”
Both men protested, McQuillan aghast. She turned to Bradford. “Sir, I’d like to proceed as quickly as possible, please.” Bradford blew out his cheeks and shrugged.
It was then she remembered the bag was down the front of her corset. “I just need a moment,” she said, jumping up and going out to the clerk’s office. “Turn around, pigeons,” she said, as she searched for the string of the bag. Pulling it out, she stared down at it, almost losing her nerve. She eyed the open doorway, but she knew it would be foolish—she would never be free. Stone would find her. They had to be handed over. Lucy placed the drawstring bag in her handbag and returned to Bradford’s office.
“Sir, I understand your company were the insurers of a certain jewellery firm in Hatton Garden, from where the Maharajah of Kashmir’s property was stolen,” she said on regaining her seat.
Bradford cleared his throat. “That is correct, madam. The theft occurred early last year.”
“May I ask what exactly was taken?” Lucy asked.
Bradford flicked a glance at McQuillan. The policeman nodded. “Three uncut sapphires of the finest quality. Do I understand you have information about their whereabouts?”
Lucy took a deep breath and opened her bag. Out came the drawstring pouch of red velvet.
McQuillan stood. “May I, Mrs Lawrence?”
Lucy gave him a shaky smile and handed over the bag. He tipped out the contents into his palm and caught his breath. Bradford jumped up and stared, then came around the desk, his eyes on stalks.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” he exclaimed.
“Sir!” McQuillan said, tilting his head towards Lucy.
“Oh, yes, apologies for swearing, Mrs Lawrence, but I never thought these would see the light of day again. The maharajah will be delighted.”
McQuillan rolled the stones around in his hand. “The jewellers will need to confirm, sir, but I believe these are the Kashmiri sapphires.” He turned to Lucy. “Gosh! How clever of you.” She tried to smile.
“Excellent, excellent!” exclaimed Bradford. With a look of reverence, he took the gems from McQuillan and popped them into the bag. Then he came over to Lucy and shook her hand. “Now, would you care to tell us how these came into your possession?”
Haltingly at first, Lucy told them about finding the train ticket stub, the letter from the hotel in York, and Charlie’s clues, culminating in her flight from Marsh’s men at King’s Cross.
“Well, I never! Extraordinary!” exclaimed Bradford shaking his head. He glanced at Lucy as if sizing her up, then he turned to McQuillan. “Might we have a quick word in private, Chief Inspector?”
McQuillan agreed. They excused themselves and went out to the outer office. But the door was ajar, and she heard their muttered conversation.
“Well, is this all believable, McQuillan? Could she have been involved in the theft and had them all along? That is some tale she has just recited.”
“No, sir. She is telling the truth. Stone saw her retrieve them as she described.”
“Most unusual.”
“Yes, she is.”
“You must understand; I need to be sure she is legitimate. It’s a lot of money,” Bradford said.
“Mr Stone and I are happy to vouch for her.”
“Very well,” Bradford grunted.
They came back in.
“I assume you are aware that Bradford’s offered a reward for the return of these stones? Indeed, the maharajah has also offered one, a substantial one, in fact,” Bradford said as he regained his seat.
“Yes, sir, and I wish to claim it, but I would like to explain why, if I may?”
“Please do,” Bradford said.
“When Mr Stone informed me of my husband’s involvement in the Padar Mining swindle, I was horrified. I knew nothing about it, but my husband’s behaviour in the last few months of his life had worried me, though I had never imagined for a moment he was involved in anything of a criminal nature. Sadly, that was actually the case. My husband was a fool, and he paid dearly for it. As you know, he met an unfortunate death, most likely at the hands of Nathaniel Marsh’s men.”
“Yes, most dreadful, Mrs Lawrence. Mr Stone gave me all the details at the time.”
“Finding those clues to the whereabouts of the stones made up my mind. I hoped by returning them, I would in some way make up for my husband’s wrongdoings.”
“No one holds you responsible, madam.”
“That may be so, but it was important to me,” she said. “It is my intention to use some of the reward to pay back a percentage of what each investor was swindled. I wish I could reimburse them fully but my own circumstances prohibit it.” She pulled Charlie’s sheets of paper from her bag. “I have the list of names and how much they invested. At least, Charlie was thorough in his accounts,” she said, her voice catching. “I was hoping Bradford’s might facilitate this?”
Bradford was staring at her open-mouthed.
“I’m sure that won’t present any difficulty,” McQuillan replied. “Might I suggest the gems go into your safe now, Mr Bradford. It makes me nervous to see them on your desk.”
“Yes, a good idea, Chief Inspector. And I am happy to do as you ask, Mrs Lawrence. If you leave details of your bank for Mr Tattersall, my clerk, we will arrange everything.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lucy said, watching as Bradford opened a wall safe and placed the bag inside. A wave of relief hit her—it was over.
Bradford turned to McQuillan. “I’d rather not keep these on the premises longer than I have to. If you would be good enough, Chief Inspector, a police escort would be appreciated. I’d like to return these to Hatton Garden tomorrow.”
“I will arrange it first thing in the morning, sir. It might also be a good idea to issue a press release to the effect that the stones have been recovered. Until such is done, Mrs Lawrence remains in danger from a certain party.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll have Tattersall do so in the morning.”
Lucy stood up, suddenly anxious to leave. McQuillan rose too and put a hand on her arm. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mrs Lawrence, I’d like you to come to Vine Street with me.”
“Why?” Lucy asked.
“To close the case, I will need to take your statement. Nothing too onerous, but best to do it this evening while it’s all still fresh in your memory.”
Lucy was on the point of refusing as all she wanted was food and bed, but he was right. It would be a relief to get it over with. “Certainly.”
“Well done, Mrs Lawrence. You are a most unique young woman,” Bradford said, coming around the desk before clasping her hand and shaking it enthusiastically.
Just then the outer door of the main office banged against the wall as it was flung open. The familiar figure of Phineas Stone charged in to the office, out of breath as if he had run up the stairs. His colour was high and his clothes dishevelled. He froze inside the door and stared at them. Alarmed, Lucy shrank back against the Chief Inspector, for she sensed Mr Stone was not in a good mood. In fact, he was furious, his eyes sparking dangerously.
“A woman beating you to it—one in the eye for you, Stone, eh?” Bradford chuckled.
CHAPTER 39
Vine Street Police Station
The interview room was stark, with a barred window high up in the wall. A table dominated the centre of the room, its scarred surface vandalised by many of the room’s inhabitants over the years. Initials and dates had been roughly carved, showing white against the patina of the wood. Lucy wondered briefly if this was where Richard was interrogated. But she wasn’t in the mood for the history of Vine Street and its “guests”. She craved rest and solitude, the bliss of a hot cup of tea and the comfort of her bed. Instead, she was sitting with a sergeant, a pleasant enough man, who kept asking her questions. To ensure a full statement was available for the chief inspector, he said. It felt like some form of torture to Lucy.
Whatever relief she had experienced on handing over the sapphires soon evaporated as she found herself in a police carriage, with McQuillan and Stone sitting opposite. McQuillan’s attempts at conversation died as even he could not compete with the silent rage emanating from Phineas Stone. The carriage ride to Vine Street was completed in silence. Stone’s attention was fixed on the passing streets, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. Dismayed, Lucy realised the hollow sensation in her stomach was not only due to hunger. Their relationship was probably beyond repair if McQuillan’s assertions were to be believed.
But her irritation grew. Phineas had lost and wasn’t taking it well. But it might do him good, she thought. It might even take him down a peg or two and make him more human. She was a little disappointed to discover he was a poor loser; she had believed he had a more generous nature than that.
In the hallway at Vine Street, they parted company.
“Thank you, Mrs Lawrence,” the police sergeant said as she signed her statement. “I’ll let the chief inspector know we are finished. If you would be good enough to wait here?”
“Yes, certainly,” she said.
Sitting back in her chair, Lucy watched the sergeant leave and sighed. Recounting the entire story had made her realise what a fickle thing fate was. A wrong decision, a careless word, and the whole adventure could have come crashing down around her. Marsh’s face, looking out from his carriage window, came too readily to mind. What would have happened if she had been dragged into that carriage? She’d be lying in the same plot as Charlie, that’s what! That’s if they ever found her body, she realised with a shudder. Would Marsh still want to harm her? For surely he would be as angry as Stone appeared to be, perhaps more so? She only hoped Marsh would not want revenge.
When McQuillan entered the room a short time later, she immediately voiced her concerns.
“Don’t you worry about him, my dear lady. His second-in-command has turned informant. Coffin Mike—”
“Coffin Mike! But he is in league with Phineas Stone, Chief Inspector.”
McQuillan laughed. “No, no, you are mistaken, Mrs Lawrence, but best Phin explain it to you. Coffin Mike has been co-operative once we struck a deal, and, all going well, we have a raid planned for tomorrow night when Marsh will be in one of his opium dens, and we will catch him red-handed. In the meantime, we will have police officers at the hotel to ensure your safety.”
“Thank you! And I feel much safer knowing Marsh will soon be behind bars.”
McQuillan ran a hand through his already wild hair. “I’ve been after that bast— I won’t deny I will be glad to rid London of him for good. You have had a bad time of it, Mrs Lawrence, but your statement will ensure we get a conviction. I am indebted to you. Now, I will bid you goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Chief Inspector,” Lucy said, rising up and buttoning her coat.
McQuillan paused at the door. “Don’t concern yourself, we will protect you, but if you should get the urge to go off on another adventure in the near future, please curb it.”
Lucy laughed. “Yes, Chief Inspector. I promise to be good from now on.”
“Excellent! Phin will be along shortly and will take you to your hotel,” he said, and disappeared out the door before she could utter a protest.
Lucy waited for Stone with growing anxiety, wishing McQuillan had stayed. His cryptic references to Stone and Coffin Mike played on her mind. Was it possible she had misinterpreted what she had seen? It seemed unlikely, and yet McQuillan had been adamant. She was so tired she could barely think. It would be best not to confront Stone about any of it until she was more herself. Surely there wouldn’t be any need to go over it all with him tonight. McQuillan was bound to have told him what occurred already.
But it was a grim-faced Stone who entered the room minutes later. “If you are ready, Mrs Lawrence, I will escort you back to your hotel.” His tone left nothing to the imagination: he was still livid.
Lucy gripped her bag, fighting a sudden fear to be alone with him. “There is no need, Mr Stone. I’m quite capable of finding my way. I would not like to inconvenience you.”
A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I am well aware of your resourcefulness. I have been the victim of it for some time.”
Lucy gasped. “Victim! You!” She took a step towards him. “What right have you to be angry with me? You were ready to betray me to Marsh. I don’t understand why McQuillan hasn’t arrested you.”
“What nonsense is this?” he asked, his eyes glinting dangerously.
But she was angry too. “Don’t deny it. I saw Coffin Mike go to your rooms. Explain that, if you can,” she demanded.
He stared at her as if she were mad. “I have nothing to explain.”
“It’s true then—you were going to hand me over to Marsh.”
The colour drained from his face. “Is that why you bolted? You believed I was working for him?”
She nodded.
He was breathing hard and looked like he wanted to throttle her. “Of all the idiotic notions! You misconstrued what you saw,” he snapped.
