by Lee Strauss
After searching the first floor, they quickly took the stairs down to the ground level to continue looking. A hot thread of worry twisted in Ginger’s chest.
“Mrs. Reed?” Mr. Hammond had reappeared. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Ginger cast a sheepish look at him. After boasting about Boss’ good behaviour, she now had to confess that he’d run off.
“I’m afraid my dog was frightened when the lights went out.”
Mr. Hammond’s mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed with disapproval.
“It’s really not like him to do such a thing,” Ginger explained. “He never runs off like that. He is a very well-trained dog.”
“Indeed. Well, the doors to the street are closed. He can’t have gone far.”
Just then, they heard three short barks that sounded as if they came from the floor below.
“It appears that your pet has run down into the cellar,” Mr. Hammond said. He snorted softly, then headed down a corridor to a door which was open just wide enough for a small dog to squeeze through. He opened it all the way, and then headed down a steep set of stairs.
“Watch your step,” he said over his shoulder as Ginger and Felicia followed.
At the bottom of the steps there was a wall with the corridor leading off to the left and right.
Ginger called, “Boss?”
Two small barks came from their right. Ginger rushed down the wide corridor. Boss was sniffing under a small table that stood at the end of the corridor. There was a small hole in the wall at floor level.
“Mice?” said Ginger, feeling a hint of disbelief. “I thought we had talked about this before, Bossy.”
To Mr. Hammond, who looked duly unimpressed, she added, “We have a slight rodent problem at Hartigan House. It’s immensely amusing to Boss.”
To Ginger’s left was a large steel door locked with a padlock. Boss suddenly stopped sniffing at the hole and stared intently at the steel door. He sat perfectly still, his ears perked forward.
Mr. Hammond answered the unspoken question in the air. “This is the vault room. It holds all the artefacts not ready for display.” His eyebrows were furrowed together as he stared at the large padlock thoughtfully. After a moment he finally took out a set of keys, opened the door, and turned on the light. The dusty-smelling red-brick room was filled with several rows of cloth-covered boxes and crates. Numbers and letters were written on signs above each section to identify them. Boss ran in and jumped up on one of the lower boxes. A loud gasp came from Mr. Hammond.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Hammond,” Ginger said. “I really don’t know what’s got into him. Boss! Come here this instant!”
Boss promptly obeyed and Ginger hoped her embarrassment had finally come to an end.
But Mr. Hammond seemed no longer interested in Boss’ foibles. He was staring at a small, rectangular walnut box adjacent to the crate Boss had jumped on. “My God!” he muttered. The box in question was wide open. “It’s gone! It should be right in here.” He faced Ginger and Felicia with eyes filled with panic.
“What is it?” Ginger asked, stepping closer.
“We’ve been robbed.”
All three sets of eyes landed on Boss as he blinked up at them, looking quite pleased with himself.
2
“My wife tells me you are a private detective,” Mr. Hammond said with a shaky voice, after he had sat down in his office. The room was spacious and tastefully decorated, with two windows overlooking the manor grounds. In addition to Mr. Hammond’s large oak desk and leather chair, there were two rich leather wingback chairs and a sizeable sofa.
Yes, I am,” Ginger said as she and Felicia claimed seats. Ginger removed her coat, revealing an ivory day blouse matched with a pleated skirt. “But, Mr. Hammond, don’t you want to call the police?”
Mr. Hammond shook his head. “Not just yet, for reasons I will explain in a moment.” The poor man looked very distraught indeed and Ginger’s investigative curiosity was definitely piqued.
He locked his gaze with hers. “Will you help me?”
Ginger didn’t think it wise to keep the police out of it, but for the sake of her friendship with Mrs. Hammond she found herself agreeing. “The first thing you need to do is lock the outside doors to keep anyone from coming or going. Then we need to gather everyone; all the attendants, workers, and custodians together in one room. Make sure they are all accounted for. This must be done immediately if we want to catch this thief.”
Mr. Hammond quickly nodded, rose from his chair and walked to the door and called out across the hall. “Mr. Steadman!”
A fair-skinned man with blond hair turning to grey appeared. Ginger recognised him as the man who had arrived as a saviour with a torch earlier.
“Mr. Steadman, please lock all the doors and gather the staff in the upper lounge area immediately.”
“What’s going on, Mr. Hammond?”
“I will explain everything in the lounge. Please hurry.”
Mr. Hammond returned to his seat. “That was Mr. Steadman, the second curator.”
“I see,” Ginger paused for a moment, then asked, “What is the object that has been stolen?”
Mr. Hammond swallowed hard. “It’s a very valuable artefact, and it was scheduled for the Persian Jewellery exhibition which is set to open in three weeks’ time on the manor’s top floor. Renovations to that level are not quite done yet so all the jewellery is being stored in our cellar which I thought would be very secure.”
“Was there anything else stolen?”
“Not that I can tell, but a lot of the other jewellery is actually not that valuable in the grand scheme of things. The thief obviously knew exactly where to look within the vault for this object.”
“How did you know someone had been in the vault?”
“The padlock was turned backwards. The keyhole was facing the door. That means you have to reach down with your left hand to turn it while you put the key in with the other.” Mr. Hammond looked intently at the two ladies as if this explained everything.
“I see,” Ginger said.
“This takes more effort and is less efficient. I have got into the habit of always leaving the keyhole pointing outwards. I have been doing it that way every day for years. That’s how I knew someone had tampered with it. Even Mr. Steadman has been instructed not to go inside the vault without my being present except in case of extreme emergency.”
“Who else has a key to that padlock?” Ginger asked
“Just me and Mr. Steadman. We are also the only ones with keys to the building and the only two people who know what the contents of the vault are.”
“How do you know no one else knows the contents of the vault? There must be a list?” Ginger asked.
“Yes, there is. I have it here in the bottom drawer of my desk.” He reached down and pulled out a large wooden clipboard and handed it to Ginger. There was a long list of numbered items typed on paper. Number thirty-four was listed as a ‘Jewelled Persian Dagger’. “I didn’t think to lock it up,” he said thoughtfully. “I suppose someone could have come in here and taken a look if they were determined to find it. Oh dear, do you think that was my undoing?”
“That is unknown right now I’m afraid, but very likely yes,” Ginger said as she handed the clipboard back. Mr. Hammond’s shoulders sagged as he let out a long sigh.
“Do you know where Mr. Steadman was when the lights went out?”
“Yes, we were both in here having a brandy,” said Mr. Hammond. “When the lights went out we each took one of the hand-held torches that I keep here behind me in this cabinet. I went down to check on the fuse room while Steadman went to calm everyone and make sure nothing was accidentally broken in the dark. There is some very valuable pottery on display.”
Boss jumped onto Ginger’s lap and she scratched him behind the ears. “And what did you find in the fuse room?”
“Both of the main glass fuses were slightly loose. Although that was odd, it wasn
’t unreasonable to imagine they could have gradually come loose over time. There were some road works done in the area here a few weeks ago. That could have made all the nearby buildings shake slightly, I imagine. Anyway, it took me only a moment to screw them back in. Then, after the lights came on, I immediately came back to the office and Steadman was already here to meet me. After that he went back to work.” His eyes landed on Boss, his gaze softer now. “A few moments later I heard you calling out for your dog.”
“Is there a back way out of the cellar level?”
“Currently the only way out of the building is up and through this level at the front door. The cellar doors are locked and I have the only key but yes, the fuse room is on the other side of the manor and so it has a separate stairway leading up to this floor as well as a hallway connecting it to the vault area.”
“So in other words,” Ginger said, “the thief could have gone down and loosened the fuses, then, armed with a torch, gone directly to the vault to somehow open it, steal the artefact, and then make his way up to this level again without passing you as you went to check the fuses.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Hammond thoughtfully. “I suppose that is correct. But I would have noticed if someone had gone all the way to the front entrance to leave the building just then. Those doors are solid oak and twelve feet high, and when they open, they create a large draught throughout the building. They are also very noisy as the hinges still haven’t been oiled properly.”
Ginger and Felicia had noticed that when they’d entered the building.
“When did you last see the stolen object?”
“I checked on it and all the other pieces at eight o’clock, shortly before the lights went out.”
Ginger hummed. “That means the object is almost certainly still in the building and so is the perpetrator.”
Mr. Hammond’s face went white.
“I am assuming you have a night watchman here when the museum is closed?” Ginger asked.
“Yes, we have two guards here hired from a reputable firm that specialises in protecting museums from robbery.”
“That explains why the thief chose to come during the day,” Felicia remarked.
“How many people are working here this evening?” asked Ginger.
Mr. Hammond thought for a moment. “Five people including Steadman, myself, and Miss Greene, my private secretary. Does this mean you are taking the case? I don’t mind paying your fee.”
“The fee is the least of your worries, I think,” Ginger said, “but I suppose I don’t have a choice at this point if we really want to catch this thief. But keep in mind, I can’t hold everyone here hostage for very long just on my own authority. If we let them all go however, the robber could be long gone by the time the police can get here.”
Mr. Hammond sighed, leaned back in his chair, pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at his damp forehead.
“Now,” said Ginger, “Please tell me more about this artefact and why you don’t wish to inform the police.”
3
“It is called ‘The Blade of T’Abriz’, a ceremonial dagger that was made for and worn by the Shah of Azerbaijan in the early 1500s. It is very rare because the blade is made from Persian black Damascus steel. It was more for decoration than for any practical use. It is encased in a red velvet-covered wooden sheath with gilt floral embroidery and black and white piping.”
Mr. Hammond showed them a picture of a small dagger with an ornately decorated hilt with two large, dark-coloured precious stones which were framed with many smaller diamonds. In the picture the velvet sheath was lying beside it on a black background.
“This is a recent photograph. These stones are sapphires; the hilt is gold. The Shah died in 1524 after which the dagger’s history is somewhat unclear, but eventually, in 1856 it somehow ended up in the hands of a group of private art collectors and their families. These art collectors are based in Egypt and they are simply known as Aljamaeia or ‘The Collective’. They are somewhat mysterious but extremely influential in the world of antiquities. It is this group that has started and now funds this private museum. They have eight more museums in England and four in Egypt, with several more smaller exhibitions scattered throughout Europe.”
“Impressive,” Ginger remarked. She dearly wanted to rescue this amazing artefact, if only to see it for herself.
Felicia was apparently impressed by other factors. “How much is the Blade of T’Abriz worth?”
“It’s incredibly difficult to ascribe worth to such a thing,” Mr. Hammond said, “because artefacts like this are irreplaceable. But, as you know, there has been a recent rise in interest in all things old and bejewelled due to the discovery of King Tut’s tomb a few years ago. Currently, the dagger is valued at approximately five thousand pounds sterling.”
Felicia blew air out of her cheeks and fell back in her chair.
Ginger stared intently at Mr. Hammond. “What is your connection with this Collective?”
“Well, that’s just it, you see,” Mr. Hammond started. “Being a curator of a museum like this has been a lifelong dream for me. It took me over two years to convince them to consider this museum and to employ me in this job. I had to travel to Egypt six times to meet the various parties involved. It’s a highly competitive field and my hope is to eventually be considered for the position of head curator for one of their larger museums.”
Mr. Hammond paused and looked at both women. “The Blade of T’Abriz was given to this museum with reluctance. It is one of The Collective’s more prized artefacts. If news got out that it had been stolen under my care, not only would my career be over but it would make international headlines. They might even shut down this museum as well. No one has ever stolen from Aljamaeia before.” Another pause. “So you see my dilemma.”
“Certainly, Mr. Hammond,” said Ginger carefully. “Now, you may not be aware of this, but my husband is Chief Inspector Basil Reed of Scotland Yard.”
Mr. Hammond’s eyes grew wide. “Oh?”
Ginger went on. “He is normally involved in murder cases, but I really think at this point it is necessary to involve him at least in a limited way. I can ask him to make sure it doesn’t go to the press. I’m not certain where this will all lead but it might be good to have the resources of Scotland Yard on our side for a theft of this magnitude. For example, they have a record of known criminals in the country. That fact alone is worth engaging my husband. There may also be insurance issues if we don’t report this to the police, not to mention the fact that should we not solve this crime, and The Collective finds out you did not immediately go to the police—”
Mr. Hammond interrupted, “I thought of that too, Mrs. Reed. But can we contain all of this in a discreet manner? In what way do you want to involve your husband?”
“I will give him a list of the names of your staff, first of all,” said Ginger. “Then I want to ask if he can send two or three constables to guard the outside perimeter of the museum. That will ensure that the place is sealed and will increase our chances considerably. They can be dressed in plain clothes so as not to attract attention.”
“I suppose you are right,” Mr. Hammond conceded. He went to a filing cabinet and pulled out a piece of paper. “This is a list of the names of all the people who work here. Twelve in all. I will mark the people who are here today, five including myself.” He put a tick beside some names on the list.
“May I please use your telephone?” asked Ginger. “It’s Sunday evening so Basil will be at home right now but he can ring the office at Scotland Yard.” Mr. Hammond motioned to the older-style candlestick contraption on his desk.
After Ginger had described the events of the evening to Basil, he agreed that he could keep the matter away from the press. In addition, he said he would personally check on the list of names and send over two constables in plain clothes so as not to attract attention.
“They should be there soon but they won’t come in until you tell them to or until something h
appens to warrant them entering the building,” he said. “It sounds like there might be an arrest made tonight, so you’ll definitely need them there at some point. Be careful, love. There’s no telling what a desperate thief is capable of.”
Ginger hung the cone-shaped earpiece on the stand and turned to Mr. Hammond. “Now just a question or two more before we interview the workers here. Were you in charge of choosing them all?”
“My secretary, Miss Greene, helped me with the interviews. Each applicant came with impeccable credentials.”
“And how long has Miss Greene been with you?” asked Ginger.
“It must be six months now. She had already worked for a reputable museum in Wales, so she too came with good credentials.”
“After we interview everyone, we are going to have to make a preliminary search of the place, Mr. Hammond. I wish we could do that first but at this point everyone here is a suspect. Since it’s unlikely that the thief has already fled, time is of the essence. We’ll do the search in groups to make it go faster and we will ourselves specify who are in those groups. This will ensure that the thief, or thieves, cannot give a false report.”
“I understand,” Mr. Hammond said. “Fortunately, this is not a very large place so it shouldn’t take too long to search.”
“All right then.” Ginger placed Boss on the floor, then stood. “Let’s get on with this, shall we?”
4
Like the rest of the building, the first-floor lounge area was lavishly decorated with thick carpet and comfortable furniture. Two sofas and six plush wing back chairs were placed in a large square around a beautiful low wooden serving table. The tall windows in this particular room had not been darkened, and allowed for a nice view of the rear grounds. The high, arched ceilings gave the room a very spacious ambience. A chandelier hung just above the serving table.
Four men, including Mr. Hammond and Mr. Steadman, sat opposite each other on the sofas. Two of them wore custodians’ uniforms. A young woman dressed in a frock of purple crepe satin with stylish bell pleats sat in one of the chairs adjacent to Mr. Steadman.
