Alex Grecian - The Yard

Pringle grabbed Hammersmith by the arm and they let Shaw get a few steps ahead of them. He gave Hammersmith a look, and Hammersmith nodded. Mentioning the break-in to Shaw was a dangerous move. Hammersmith hadn’t even told Inspector Tiffany about Blackleg’s involvement in finding the boy’s body. There was no official record of any burglary. If Shaw went over their heads and inquired at the Yard, Hammersmith might lose his job. But he was certain Shaw wouldn’t contact the police. And scaring the doctor was the only surefire way he could see to get his attention.

Shaw’s drawing room was tastefully decorated. There was nothing gaudy about it; the stag’s head on the wall looked to Hammersmith’s untrained eye to be real, and the furniture was old but elegant. The large round table in the center of the room was scratched and scarred, but crafted of a single piece of wood and had surely cost more than Hammersmith’s entire annual salary when it was new. There was a low armchair with a high back, and Penelope Shaw was sitting in it, waiting for them. She rose and greeted them as if they hadn’t just met her at the front door.

She held out her hand and Hammersmith took it. He looked from it to her face and noted the way her dark hair framed her high cheekbones. Her eyes were wide and a blue so pale they appeared frozen. She smiled and looked away from him.

She waved them all to chairs and they sat. Hammersmith saw Charles Shaw bristle silently as he and Pringle sat down. The housekeeper, Elizabeth, entered with tea and set the table for them. The scones appeared to be several days old, but Hammersmith assumed it was the best she could do for unexpected strangers at three o’clock in the morning. He passed up a scone, but took a cup as Shaw explained the situation to his wife.

“They say we’ve had a break-in while on holiday.”

“Oh, my. Was anything taken?”

“You might be able to tell us that, ma’am,” Hammersmith said.

“Well, I haven’t … I mean, we’ve only just arrived home. I wouldn’t have any idea yet.”

“They’re lying,” Shaw said. His face went white and he blinked quickly. He clearly hadn’t meant to speak out loud.

“Pardon me?” Hammersmith said.

“I apologize. I’m quite tired.”

“Of course. We’re very sorry to intrude like this. It’s just that with you being such an important figure in the neighborhood, we assume that your neighbors might also face some danger of burglary. We want to nip this in the bud as quickly as possible. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” Penelope said.

Hammersmith could feel the doctor sizing him up, but he didn’t look at him. Instead, he focused his attention on the wife. Penelope was much younger than her husband. Her face reminded Hammersmith of a fox: long and lean and smart. There was something hungry about her, hidden behind a facade of perfect respectability.

“Mrs Shaw, have you noticed anyone unusual in the neighborhood of late?”

“We’ve been out of the city,” Shaw said.

Hammersmith shifted his attention to the husband. “For how long?”

Shaw hesitated and Hammersmith watched the doctor’s eyes. Shaw met his gaze and straightened his shoulders.

“Just the night. We ran into weather and had to turn around.”

“So you weren’t gone long at all.”

“I didn’t know how recently you meant.”

“Before you left, then?”

“No. I think I would have attached some importance to anyone who appeared-”

“I’m sure you would. But we mustn’t rule anyone out. What about your staff?”

“Elizabeth is beyond reproach.”

“I understand. And this is a difficult question to be faced with, but how well do you know the rest of your household? What about your laundress or your chimney sweep?”

Pringle spat his tea back into his cup. “Hot,” he said.

Shaw glared at him.

“Our chimney sweep?”

“Or anyone who might have access to this place in your absence.”

“Well, I’m sure he seemed perfectly respectable.”

“Do you have a name for him?”

“I believe his name may have been Robert,” he said.

“Excuse me, Charles,” Penelope said, “but our chimney sweep’s name is Sam. I’m sure of it.”

“Don’t interrupt. You have things you could be doing, don’t you?”

“Of course, Charles. I apologize.”

She rose from the table and walked slowly to a door that led to the kitchen. She looked back at the table before passing from the room. Hammersmith was surprised to realize that he wanted her to look his way, but she didn’t. She didn’t look at her husband, either. After she was gone, the scent of lavender lingered, and the three men were silent for a long moment.

“So,” Shaw said, “you’re of the opinion that our sweep stole something from this house?”

“Perhaps. Later in the day, would you be so good as to make up a list of anything that might be missing? If we track this man down, we may find some object, something belonging to you about his person, and that would be all we’d need to ascertain his guilt in the matter.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Of course, sir. That’s why I said it might wait until later in the day.”

Shaw stood and Pringle followed his lead, standing up, too. Hammersmith remained seated.

“I have entertained this matter as far as I am willing to,” Shaw said. “I’ll ask you to leave this house and not return.”

“You don’t want us to find the man who burgled you?”

“I don’t care. What I want is to go to bed and enjoy a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, free from thoughts of sweeps and burglars and nosy police.”

“Nosy, are we?” Pringle said. “And aren’t we trying to help you?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re trying to do, but the hour is inappropriate and your questions seem unusual.”

Hammersmith was unperturbed. For Shaw to be so openly rude meant that he was hiding something from them. Knowing that there was something hidden was the first step toward finding it.

“Could you give us some indication, at least, of where we might find this sweep?”

“No, I could not. Leave now.”

Hammersmith concealed a smile and stood. “Of course,” he said. “We apologize for disturbing you.”

“Well, I don’t apologize,” Pringle said. “I think you’ve been bloody rude.”

“Please excuse my friend,” Hammersmith said. “We’re quite tired ourselves.”

“Just get out.”

“Would it be permissible for us to return later?”

“Not at all. I very much hope never to see you again.”

“A crime has been committed here, sir,” Pringle said, “and we are duty-bound to follow-”

“You are duty-bound to do what your betters ask of you. Now go. If there’s been a crime committed-and I’ve seen no evidence of that, only your word-then I will investigate it myself.”

“Very well,” Hammersmith said. “Have a good night, sir.”

“I shall have a very good night indeed just as soon as you’re both out of my sight.”

Shaw ushered the two police out the door. Hammersmith paused on the step and turned back toward the doctor.

“Please tell your lovely wife good night for us,” he said. “And apologize to her on our account for the beastly hour.”

“I shall do nothing of the kind.”

And with that, Shaw slammed the front door.

“Well, I never,” Pringle said.

Hammersmith rubbed his hands together and bounded down the brownstone’s steps. Pringle hurried to keep up with the longer strides of his friend.

“So that’s the end of it, right?” he said.

“Not at all,” Hammersmith said. “We know the name of our sweep.”