Vivian Conroy - Diamonds of Death

‘One of the finest professionals in his trade,’ Jake said.

Alkmene shook her head. ‘How professional can he be when he gets caught red-handed? And with a dead body at his feet too.’ She clicked her tongue.

Then she glanced at Jake. ‘You knew he was also behind the other robberies? I mean, you suspected him earlier? Did you write pieces on the earlier robberies perhaps, and had a hunch he was involved?’

Jake shook his head. ‘I knew he had committed those robberies. They were all trademark crimes.’

‘Trademark?’

Jake gestured with both hands. ‘Bearing certain identifying traits that mark them as his, like a signature underneath a document. But the police are too stupid to see it. In two cases they even arrested a servant as the culprit, because, and I quote, it was impossible to commit the crime from outside the house. But that is right what Mac did.’

Alkmene whistled. ‘Impressive. Never once caught and now like this. Kind of sour. But I guess when you stoop to murder, you do deserve to get caught, no matter how wonderful an artist you are.’

She glanced at him again. ‘Will you cover the trial?’ There was a chance then Anne Winters might come to London for it. She could probably avoid no longer what she had avoided before. But where a meeting with her cousin would have been rather painful in the past, it would now be even more so.

Jake shrugged. ‘Maybe. Right now I am more concerned with proving Mac’s innocence.’

‘Innocence?’ Alkmene’s mind recalled the details she had gleaned from the newspaper coverage. ‘I thought he was caught inside the estate in question? The safe in the room was open and the stones missing, a fortune in diamonds Lord Winters had brought with him from India.’ The infamous gems that had featured in the murder of the wife also.

Jake nodded. ‘Oh, Mac was there all right to steal the stones. But somebody had gotten to them before him and had killed Winters.’

‘You mean…he found Winters dead in the room and his intended loot gone?’

‘That is right.’ Jake looked at her. ‘They caught him on the spot, but not a trace of the stones either on his person or outside. He had not dropped them out of the window or anything. They looked everywhere in the garden.’

Alkmene frowned. ‘So there might be something to his story that he found the dead body after the real thief had left with the stones. Did they look elsewhere in the house for them? Among the servants, the family members, any guests that were staying there?’ Her thoughts raced.

Jake laughed. ‘Of course not. Like the police always do, they jumped to a conclusion. Burglar caught on the scene. Must be the killer. Where the stones are? Who cares? Lord Winters is dead, and this man can swing for it. Nice and neat, tied up with a red ribbon around it, open and shut from day one.’

Alkmene rubbed her nose. ‘But you do not believe that?’

‘Look, I have known Mac for years. He is a thief, yes, a master cat burglar – one of the finest in his art. But he is not a killer.’

Alkmene tilted her head. ‘Not even when he was caught out, cornered, when the victim stood between him and freedom? Would he not kill to ensure he could get away and not end up in prison? Most people would do a lot to avoid prison. And on the spur of the moment he might have grabbed something off the desk and struck out with it.’

Jake was silent.

Alkmene studied his profile. ‘You are not one hundred per cent sure he is innocent, are you?’

Jake sighed. ‘Mac loves his freedom. I doubt he will do well in jail. I cannot be sure he would not strike out, if cornered, just to get away. But if he tells me he did not kill Lord Winters, I believe him. I have to.’ He glanced at Alkmene. ‘Mac saved my life once. I owe him.’

Alkmene held his gaze, waiting for him to tell her more about it. But Jake merely said, ‘Acting on Mac’s behalf I have to start from the assumption that everything he told me is true and ferret out what really happened that night from there.’

Alkmene shook her head. ‘You can’t just mention in passing how this man Mac saved your life and then expect me to accept it and move on.’

Jake sighed. He walked a few moments in silence, then he said, ‘I told you before that back in Paris I looked into a crime ring called the Accountants.’

‘They stole from people who had themselves stolen these things.’

‘Right. Mac did a job for them on the Riviera. It was his favourite haunt: rich people, flaunting their wealth, acting carelessly. He wasn’t quite as professional then as he later became and he made a mistake one night and got arrested. Before he was at the police station, the car had to stop for a group of drunken men. Turned out they were hardly drunken and overpowered the policemen, cuffing them with their own cuffs and leaving them in the street. They took Mac with them and told him he could go free if he did a job for them. He did.’

Alkmene hitched a brow. ‘Original way of enlisting somebody’s services. But what does this have to do with you?’

‘Later when I was undercover with the Accountants, I met Mac. He was suspicious of me, thinking I was not quite what I pretended to be. When he overheard some of the men saying that they distrusted me and wanted to set a trap to get rid of me, he warned me. I was able to escape. I would certainly not have been the first journalist to be found dead in a back alley because of some story he had gotten too close to. Or the last. So I owe Mac my life.’

Jake took a deep breath. ‘What I learned about his character then is that he does steal from people, but he can’t stand violence, especially killing. Warning me meant I would get away with my story and might have exposed them all, including Mac. It was not in his own interest to save me. Still he did. That pushes me now to look beyond the scenario the police have jumped at. It is too easy to just assume Mac killed Lord Winters to get away.’

Alkmene nodded. ‘Makes perfect sense to me. So you have taken up his case? You intend to prove that somebody else did it? That might be quite difficult. I suppose the family is happy enough with the assumption the burglar did it.’

Jake nodded. ‘Yes. For more than one reason.’

Alkmene perked up at his tone. ‘Oh. What can that be?’

Jake halted and faced her squarely. ‘It is more than just a gut feeling, Alkmene. More than a belief in an old friend. I would have taken up his defence just based on my assumption that he would never kill someone, but I have more than that. An actual lead to another person who is probably the killer.’

‘How did you find a lead so fast?’

‘It came from Mac himself. I went to see him in his cell. He told me that he didn’t pick the Winters estate just because he had heard there were diamonds there. He had been alerted to the job, the possibilities. I think one may safely say he had been hired to do it.’

‘What?’ Alkmene leaned over to him. ‘Someone hired your friend to steal those diamonds? And then deliver them to him?’

Jake nodded. ‘And not just anybody. A member of the family.’

Alkmene held her breath.

Jake said, ‘That is why I need you. I have to act fast before the trail turns cold. I need to get inside the Winters household.’

Alkmene held his gaze. She sensed what was going to come. The muscles in her neck pulled tight at the prospect. She had managed to avoid this for a long time. Now all of a sudden she would have to make a new decision about it. A decision that might affect a man’s life. The life of the cat burglar whom Jake called a friend.

Jake said, ‘Mac told me a few things about the Winters family. I was rather surprised to hear that Lord Winters had been married to your mother’s sister.’