The Baffling Burglaries of Bath

by Leighann Dobbs

Chapter Ten

  Katherine had never had cause to step into a pawnshop before. Her imagination hadn’t quite conjured… this.

  The quaint little storefront on the outskirts of Bath couldn’t have fit her bedchamber back in London. It was a wonder she, Lyle, the proprietor, and a fourth man bent over what appeared to be a tray of spectacles could fit in such a confined space. Shelves lined the walls, each fitted with a removable tray to better examine the objects at hand. Larger, unwieldy items, including an ornate chest, a tattered valise, and a set of bagpipes, rested in the middle of the room. The proprietor, a thin man with an unshaven chin and an air of weariness, hovered over his customer as she and Lyle entered. The moment the door closed behind them, the man turned and crossed the small room in what seemed the blink of an eye.

  His smile wide, he studied her for a mere second before he turned to Lyle. “What can I do for you today, good sir?”

  Lyle glanced at Katherine. She shrugged and handed over the slip of paper on which she had listed a description of each of the stolen jewels to date. If the thief needed money quickly, this shop was perhaps the easiest place to sell the stolen jewels. Despite the unlikelihood that the Burglar of Bath would be careless enough to sell the jewels so close to where he had stolen them, Katherine had a better hope of identifying him had he done so here, rather than Bristol or London or… anywhere else, to be honest.

  As Lyle engaged with the owner of the shop, Katherine used the man’s irritating decision to underestimate her to her advantage. She perused the trays of jewelry, most of it tarnished or in a slight state of disrepair. Some of it was utterly plain and likely wouldn’t fetch much profit at all. A pair of diamond earrings, shaped a bit like a chandelier, caught her eye. Why were they familiar? The shop was so small that she had only to glance over her shoulder to read the paper that Lyle had now given to the shop owner. None of the items matched the earrings, so she continued to browse, cocking her ear to hear the conversation.

  The proprietor harrumphed. “What is this? A list of items you mean to sell me?”

  “No,” Lyle answered. “We’re looking to find those items.”

  “Your wife is looking at all my wares currently. Perhaps she’ll find something there to suit her.”

  “My… what?”

  Katherine bit her lip as she glanced toward Lyle. He turned crimson and stumbled over his tongue.

  “No. Katherine… She isn’t… Not to say that she’s unappealing…”

  She coughed into her fist to hide her laugh and took pity on him. He lost the ability to speak any time someone mentioned romance. And sometimes if he was in the mere presence of a woman he admired. Thankfully, he was comfortable enough with her not to count her among that number.

  “We aren’t married,” she informed the shopkeeper.

  “Forgive me. I assumed, given that you were in his company unchaperoned…”

  What was modern society’s fascination with chaperones? Katherine was perfectly capable of conducting herself with aplomb no matter with whom she chose to keep company.

  “Chaperones aren’t required,” Lyle answered. “I would never harm Katherine. In fact, I barely even think of her as a woman. I mean…”

  Katherine laughed, holding up a hand to stop him from another tongue-tied tirade. “We’re here looking for those specific items. Have you bought anything that matches the description of one of those pieces of jewelry? Or perhaps someone has offered one to you and you declined. We’d be much obliged if you can point us in their direction.”

  With a frown, the proprietor peered at the list once more. “I don’t believe I have, but let me consult my books. I record every item so I know the moment something is stolen.”

  Lyle stiffened. He raised one hand to his hip, where he carried his baton while on patrol. His hand closed on empty air. “I am a principal officer at Bow Street. I assure you, nothing will be stolen.”

  The shopkeeper hesitated a moment before turning and slipping through a narrow doorway into a secondary room of the shop. He left the door slightly ajar, though Katherine couldn’t see inside. Lyle stepped closer to her to peer over her shoulder at the jewelry trays.

  “Thieves,” he scoffed. “Do we look like thieves?”

  “Thieves don’t always look like criminals,” she reminded him. “In fact, there must be one hiding in plain sight in polite society at the moment, for them to discover the best places to steal from their victims.”

  Lyle’s nostrils flared as he released a short, disapproving breath. He didn’t argue with her, however.

  Katherine tapped him on the arm. “Before I forget again, were you in the Pump Room for the entire afternoon on Sunday?”

  He straightened and turned away from the jewels. “Until you asked me to accompany Miss Burwick to the hotel, yes.”

  “Then you were there at the time of the robbery.”

  He stared at her, his lips pursed as he waited for her to say something more.

  “Mr. Salmon told me that he and the Marquess of Bath were in the Pump Room when they heard Mrs. Oliver’s scream, whereupon Lord Bath dispatched him to investigate. Is that true?”

  Lyle frowned as he said, “I don’t believe I saw them together. In fact I don’t think I saw the Marquess of Bath at all while in the Pump Room. The pump drawing up spring water is located on the south side of the room, which isn’t very large. I would have seen him. He’s rather difficult to miss.”

  Mr. Salmon had been lying. Her pulse quickening as her senses hummed with the thrill of the hunt, Katherine asked, “And Mr. Salmon? Was he there?”

  Her hopes sank as Lyle nodded. “He was, at least initially. Making quite a nuisance of himself, if you ask me. I believe he’d left me in peace for half an hour or more by the time I heard Mrs. Oliver’s scream. Good riddance. I’d prefer if he didn’t prod at my inventions, thank you very much.”

  The other man in the room straightened and turned, identifying himself as Sir David. He greeted Lyle with a wry smile. “He’s been hovering around me while I’ve been working, as well.”

  “David! I didn’t expect to find you here.” Lyle closed the distance between them to pump his friend’s hand.

  “Nor I you. Are you here on business?”

  “Idle curiosity,” Lyle answered. “Are you searching for parts for your device?”

  “Always,” the inventor answered.

  “I forgot to mention yesterday, the Dowager Marchioness of Bath introduced me to a fellow who might be able to help you…” Lyle turned toward the door then paused. “Katherine, do you need me?”

  She shook her head. “I know the way back to the hotel. Enjoy yourselves.”

  Sir David bowed over her hand. “It was lovely to see you again, Lady Katherine.”

  “You as well,” she answered with a smile.

  As he and Lyle exited the shop, he didn’t lower his voice enough for it not to carry. “It must be quite advantageous to have a noble patron.”

  “Katherine? She isn’t my patron. Ours is an exchange of minds, not money.”

  “No? My friend, you’re missing a great advantage. Think of all you could accomplish if she funded your inventions!”

  Katherine frowned at the door as they strode out of earshot. Lyle never asked for money, but he lent her his expertise and inventions on occasion. Should she be funding him? He’d been reticent enough in accepting her insistence on paying for his lodgings while in Bath. However, if she offered him money directly, she feared it might interfere with their friendship. As he put it, they had an exchange of the minds, one that was beneficial to them both. Frankly, she enjoyed his company.

  The door to the other room shut as the shopkeeper emerged. He offered the paper to her. “I’m afraid none of these descriptions match what I’ve sold. However, I cannot say whether they were offered to me without seeing a drawing of the items. An” — he frowned and peered closer at the page — “emerald ring with a spray of diamonds tells me nothing without seeing how the fixture is situate
d. It might be designed in one hundred different ways!”

  Although Katherine might have been able to render a rudimentary drawing of Mrs. Oliver’s pearl necklace from memory, she hadn’t seen the jewels of the past victims. She smiled tightly. “Sorry to take up so much of your time.”

  He gestured to the tray of jewelry that she had already perused. “Might I interest you in something else? Maybe some antiquities that have been recently recovered from the area?”

  “Antiquities?”

  “As you know, the healing springs here have been popular since ancient times. Sometimes coins or artifacts are dug in the area and find their way to my shop. You look like a discriminating lady that appreciates history.”

  The man was clearly eager to sell her something. “Thank you, but I’m not in need of anything today.”

  She glanced toward the door, her mind awhirl. Sir David Brewster seemed particularly concerned with money. And although she hadn’t inspected him closely for traces of silver, he wasn’t particularly well off. He hadn’t bought or sold anything while they were here but had distracted Lyle and removed him from the pawnshop instead.

  Katherine asked, “The other man who was in here…”

  “Oh, Sir David! He is making some kind of telescope… but not one to look at the stars. It is far beyond my comprehension.”

  “You know him by name?”

  The shopkeeper shrugged. “Certainly. He’s been a fixture in our little town for quite a few weeks now.”

  Weeks… or months?

  Katherine asked, “And does he come in often?”

  “Every few days. Always has something he wants to look at.”

  “Does he buy or sell?”

  The shopkeeper sighed. “Neither, if I’m honest. He spends a great deal of time looking at all the new items I put on my trays, but he always leaves without purchasing anything.”

  How odd. Katherine thanked the man and exited the shop. She mulled over the information as she walked. Could Sir David be the thief? She’d hardly taken note of him, being that he was an inventor like Lyle and on the fringes of polite society. As a rule, she didn’t care for status, but had it influenced her thoughts subconsciously? If so, he might have been lurking in the shadows of more than simply a pawnshop and she had never taken notice. Considering that she prided herself on her observation skills, either she was lacking, or he had uncovered a role that allowed him to mingle with polite society without being noticed.

  As she turned onto Sydney Place, she continued to consider her theory, examining it from all sides. However, a cluster of people caught her attention, including one abnormally tall man. What was Wayland doing chatting with the Juliens and their grandson?

  Mr. Julien pushed Scott in his bath chair along the road while Mrs. Julien walked at his side. Wayland was having an animated discussion with Scott, though they were too far away for Katherine to make out the words. Unlike when she’d seen him at the King’s Bath, in pain and miserable, Scott seemed lively and interested in the debate. He wore a wide smile. It was mirrored by fond, relieved smiles from his grandparents, though they didn’t contribute to the conversation.

  Wayland glanced up, noticing her. He raised his hands to bracket his mouth and called, “Lady Katherine! Come over here a moment and settle a dispute.”

  Why did he want her company? Covering her wariness with a polite smile, she joined them.

  Wayland swept his hand to indicate his friends. “Lady Katherine, are you acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Julien? This is their grandson—”

  “We’ve met.” Katherine smiled at each of them, ending with Scott. “Nice to see you again.”

  “And you, Kitty.”

  She fought back a grimace at that unfortunate youthful pet name.

  Wayland smirked. “Kitty?” He cocked his eyebrow.

  “The Juliens live near my father’s country estate. Scottie and I spent several summers together when we were young.” She emphasized the juvenile pet form of his name, raising an eyebrow.

  “The years seem to have treated you kindly,” Scott answered, unperturbed. He grimaced, his good humor falling away as he rubbed his thigh. “I wish I could say the same.”

  A curtain seemed to fall over the gathering, smothering their good humor. The corners of Mrs. Julien’s eyes crinkled with empathy. Mr. Julien’s expression fell.

  Wayland coughed into his fist. In a light voice, he said, “Kitty…”

  She glared at him. “That isn’t my name.”

  His smile widened. “Katherine, then. I called you over here to settle an argument.”

  “What is the subject?” she asked, dubious.

  “Dogs.”

  That didn’t answer her question in the amount of detail she had hoped, but given that she kept a dog, she likely had an answer to their question. She nodded. “Very well, what is the argument?”

  “Which dog breed do you think best suited to hunting? Scottie here says it’s an English Water Spaniel, but I firmly believe that no dog can outhunt a Bloodhound. The Thrapston Association for the Prevention of Felons have been using them to hunt sheep-stealers for over ten years!”

  “I don’t know if owning a dog qualifies me to settle this dispute…”

  Scott spoke over her. “Water spaniels flush birds out of the bush. I imagine you can appreciate how that might be useful to one such as I, who cannot walk. And if I trained him to bring me the fowl I shot from the sky…”

  Mrs. Julien looked pained. “We’d love to get a dog, Scottie. Perhaps we’ll be able to afford one this Christmas.” She sounded as though she were promising a child a toy, but deep shadows of emotion crossed her face.

  Scott frowned and looked at his leg. “If we hadn’t come to Bath…”

  “We’re here for you, son,” Mr. Julien answered, clapping his grandson on the shoulder. “Your grandmother didn’t pawn off her jewels for nothing. These healing waters must help with the pain a bit, if so many people flock to them.”

  Oh dear. Katherine felt their pain acutely. Scott’s, as well. Sullenness settled across him, displacing all hint of the joy from earlier.

  If nothing else, she sought to distract him from that. “The best hunting dog is a pug.”

  Wayland barked out a laugh. “You must be joking.”

  She lifted her chin as they resumed walking down the street. “Not so. If you’re hunting water fowl, perhaps the spaniel is best. If you want sheep-stealers, use a bloodhound. But Emma’s had her uses as well. She has an uncanny knack for finding small items. Why, her knack for pilfering items gave me a vital clue at Northbrook’s party… not that I realized it until later.”

  “What happened at Northbrook’s party?” Scott asked, craning his neck. His withdrawn demeanor faded, replaced with open curiosity.

  “Mr. Lyle Murphy of the Bow Street Runners—”

  Katherine cleared her throat, earning herself a pointed look from Wayland.

  He sighed. “Forgive me, of Sir John’s Men.”

  Satisfied, she nodded, motioning for him to resume the tale.

  “He apprehended the Pink-Ribbon Murderer, with help.” Wayland nodded to Katherine. “Katherine discovered the fiend’s identity, though in the process she nearly found herself killed.”

  Scott looked appalled. “Lawks, Kitty! You shouldn’t dabble in that sort of dangerous business.”

  Even a man she hadn’t met in over a decade thought he had a say in her life.

  Wayland shot her an apologetic look. “I do wish she had been more careful, but if not for her, more women might have died. We should be proud of her.”

  Katherine opened her mouth, but she didn’t know what to say. Was Wayland proud of her for solving the murders before he did? That made no sense. He was her father’s rival — by extension, hers as well. Shaking her head, she fell back as he expounded on the tale of Northbrook’s party, including the part where Emma stole the item that ended up giving her the final clue. He left out a few details, but she didn’t correct him. Instead,
her mind turned to her current case.

  Mr. and Mrs. Julien were desperate for money to help their grandson. She couldn’t blame them, for she would have helped if she could. Even so, she couldn’t stifle the voice asking if one of them was the Burglar of Bath, likely Mrs. Julien, given that her husband had such difficulty walking. As Katherine meandered around the back of the bath chair to reach Mrs. Julien’s side, she paid particular attention to the state of their clothes. Worn — in fact, Mr. Julien had both elbows of his jacket darned — but neither of them wore any hint of silver. Not even on Mr. Julien’s shoes, though those seemed to be caked in reddish clay on the heel.

  When she reached Mrs. Julien’s side, Katherine asked, “I was surprised not to see you and your husband at the King’s Bath the other day. Scottie was there. Why not you?”

  Wayland halted in his tale for a moment, giving her a peculiar disapproving look. Katherine ignored him.

  Mrs. Julien glanced from her grandson to Katherine. She pasted on a smile, but it fluttered at the corners. “We would have liked to be there for him, but we weren’t in Bath at all. You see, there’s an apothecary down in Bradford-on-Avon that produces a special tonic that helps to reduce Scottie’s pain. Where his injury is located, it’s very difficult to find remedies that help. We need to see apothecaries that specialize in that sort of traumatic pain.”

  Mr. Julien added, “We were there all day, if that’s what you’re asking. The public coach didn’t arrive until five o’clock to return us to Bath.”

  As much as Katherine would like to take them at their word, she would have to verify that what they claimed was the truth. She couldn’t rule them out until then. Once she did, she would feel much lighter.

  “I didn’t mean to pry,” she said as gracefully as she could manage. With the incline of her head, she said, “Don’t let me keep you. I must return to the Sydney Hotel.”

  “As must I,” Wayland added. “May I escort you there?”

  With the Juliens as witnesses, Katherine couldn’t protest. Instead, she laid her hand lightly on his sleeve and walked away with him. His arm felt as hard as stone. The click of their boots rang on the cobblestones, filling the silence between them.