The Baffling Burglaries of Bath

by Leighann Dobbs

  She found no other clues. By the time she returned above stairs, Lyle had arrived to take charge of the handkerchief-wrapped statue. He informed everyone that he needed access to the Pump Room in order to test his invention. Grandma Bath was only too happy to oblige.

  “Thank you, my lady,” Lyle answered as he followed her painstaking progress out of the room and past Katherine. “I am much obliged. With the waters from the spring, I believe I’ll be able to show a shadow of the imprint of the thief’s hand on the statue. If nothing else, we should know how big his hand is, and we might be able to identify him from that information.”

  “Anything to stop this thief from terrorizing my town sounds grand,” the old woman proclaimed.

  “This should be interesting,” Mr. Salmon muttered under his breath.

  Katherine jumped. Until he spoke, she hadn’t realized that he’d been standing beside her. He paid her no mind as he followed after Lyle, seemingly eager to discover what the inventor was able to glean from the makeshift weapon.

  Katherine started to follow then hesitated. Did she have time to wait for Lyle’s experiment to come to fruition? She had to catch the Burglar of Bath — before his newfound violent streak turned deadly.

  To herself, Katherine muttered, “Perhaps this day is unlucky, after all.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Katherine tugged her pelisse closer to her neck to ward away the early-evening chill as she strode along the cobblestone street toward the Pump Room. It had taken her longer than expected to calm Lady Dalhousie and try to extract more information from her. With everyone agog over the excitement, Lady Dalhousie had thrived in recounting the tale, adding more dramatics to every retelling.

  By the time Katherine had sat her down to try to uncover some useful clues, the old woman had twisted the tale to such an extent that she couldn’t believe a word of it. Perhaps Lady Dalhousie had noticed something important, but with all her penchant for embellishment, she had blurred the details to the point that Katherine doubted the woman knew what pieces of her tale were false and which were true. The latest rendition had involved some sort of pirate. Perhaps the old woman had been struck on the head a bit too hard.

  A cursory examination of the room once Mr. Salmon vacated it earned Katherine no further clues. Too many people had come and gone, trampling the rug, moving small artifacts, and preventing Katherine from searching outright for the clues she needed to solve the case. In front of so many witnesses, she needed to keep up her ruse of playing the matchmaker. Under the guise of gossiping as much as the other women who congregated in Lady Dalhousie’s room, she’d managed to search very little and had found nothing, not even a small sliver of silver.

  Nothing save for the flowery button in her reticule. That must be coincidence, mustn’t it?

  Footsteps sounded from behind her. Katherine glanced over her shoulder, quickly averting her gaze when Wayland’s tall figure stepped beneath one of the freshly lit streetlamps. Why was he following her?

  “Lady Katherine,” he called.

  She didn’t slow her steps, but her skirts prevented her from matching his long-legged stride. He reached her easily and caught her arm, pulling her to a stop.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She hiked up her chin, mulish. “I’m walking to the Pump Room to join Lyle, though I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

  “Don’t be daft. There’s a thief on the loose — one who has now escalated to violence. You should have taken your carriage rather than risked walking alone.”

  Katherine frowned at the vehemence in his voice. Why was he suddenly so protective of her? They were… not precisely rivals, but not friends, either. Yet he’d stated he wanted to help her investigation. Help… or glean insights he could use to identify the thief himself? She didn’t know whether to trust him.

  However, this newfound concern over her safety seemed genuine. He didn’t want to see her hurt. Was that the honorable part of him, the same part that had driven him to serve in the war against Napoleon? Or was it something more…

  “Why are you here?” she asked, her voice quiet. His hand on her arm anchored her even though he only bracketed her bicep, rather than gripping her tight.

  “Harriet told me you’d left without sending for the coach—”

  “No, why are you in Bath?” Her voice gained strength. She examined his expression for any shadow of dishonesty.

  “Perhaps I’m here on holiday, like so many others.”

  For all that he had taken a bath in the healing waters, she couldn’t picture him relaxing on holiday. He was as driven as she and no doubt needed to keep himself as busy. Otherwise, why would he have turned to the life of an investigator upon his return from the war? As the heir to a viscount, he needn’t work.

  “You don’t lie very convincingly.”

  He dropped his hand with a shrug. “Perhaps I don’t care to make the effort to lie to you. I’m not here in Bath to disrupt your efforts.”

  As long as he didn’t get in the way of her investigation, perhaps she shouldn’t waste so much time wondering. The Marquess of Bath was adamant that he was employing Mr. Salmon and no other on the case; his refusal to provide a reward even when his dear grandmother asked proved that much. With no monetary incentive, the only reason Wayland would have for solving the case before her would be to spite her. Perhaps she was softening toward him too much, but she didn’t think she was in danger of that. He wasn’t that good a liar.

  “I don’t have time to dawdle. Lyle might have already found something of use.”

  “Then let’s not waste time.” Not taking her hint to leave her to the investigation alone, Wayland fell into step alongside her and escorted her the remainder of the way to the Pump Room.

  When they came within view of the dormant King’s Bath, Katherine spotted her father’s seal on a carriage door hitched outside. She speared Wayland with an ornery look. He didn’t seem bothered by her displeasure.

  Calmly, he informed her, “I sent Harriet on ahead, in case I was unable to find you.”

  She ignored him and entered the Pump Room.

  The building next to the King’s Bath was designed to impress. In the darkness, she couldn’t make out the carvings on the exterior, but the interior of the room was no less opulent. A short corridor led to a vaulting room on the right. The clean white walls led up to a domed roof two stories above. Corinthian pillars supported a balcony at the far end of the room, where a grand piano resided, now devoid of a player.

  The rest of the room was a wide-open space, with little to furnish it save for the counter in the middle of the south wall where the fountain allowed easy access to the healing water. For the moment, the only person manning the counter was Grandma Bath as she fussed over Lyle. If the look on his face was any indication, the old woman was hindering more than she was helping. Hopefully, Sir David, on Lyle’s other side, was proving to be of greater use.

  The only light in the room wafted from the candles set atop the counter near the pump. However, the meager light must have been enough to identify her, for the moment she walked into the room, two other people gathered caught her by either arm and pulled her into the space between the nearest door and the one by which she had entered. Pru and Harriet.

  “Captain Wayland is right,” Harriet hissed as she released Katherine. Her voice didn’t carry far, though it seemed to echo in the wide, mostly empty space. “You shouldn’t be taking chances with your safety! One woman has already been harmed today.”

  When Harriet sank into a curtsey, Katherine glanced over her shoulder to see that Wayland had followed them to their private location. The only other person she saw in the room, Lord Bath, hovered near his grandmother, trying to convince her to sit. Movement stirred in the shadows of the far wall, near the piano. Katherine’s heart skipped a beat before she recognized Mr. Salmon. Although he might be loath to admit it, Lyle’s invention provided his best chance of catching the thief, as well.
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br />   Harriet babbled, “Thank you, Captain, for looking out for her. We are in your debt.”

  Katherine returned her attention to her friends. “He walked with me to the Pump Room. We were in no danger. I’m certain I spotted at least one watch patrol along the way.” After the incident today, Lord Bath didn’t appear to be gambling with the safety of the visitors to his town.

  What if the patrol scared off the thief?

  Although it nettled her to admit such a thing, Katherine had to acknowledge that it might be for the best. If the thief had escalated to violence, more people might be harmed. Perhaps even killed… Katherine touched her throat. She’d had more than enough of murderers for the time being, hence why she had chosen a thief this time. Thieves resided in the shadows, trying not to be seen. They didn’t hit ladies with old statues simply so they could abscond with a very distinctive necklace.

  “We cannot be too careful,” Wayland admonished her. “I’m worried that the thief is growing bolder.”

  Truthfully, so was she.

  “I will solve this as soon as may be. We’ll have to wait for Lyle’s invention to tell us what he can about the attack tonight.”

  Pru frowned. “What have you learned since we last spoke of this? Can we point more definitively to any of the suspects?”

  “It isn’t Mr. Salmon,” Katherine answered, inwardly sighing. “I was at the table with him and Lord Bath when Lady Dalhousie screamed.”

  “Who, then?” Harriet asked. She opened her mouth, but Katherine cut her off.

  “It isn’t Mrs. Julien, either. Lady Dalhousie and her maid described a man, and Mrs. Julien would have had to move exceedingly quickly to reach her husband in the garden before I arrived. She wasn’t wearing a dark cloak, which Lady Dalhousie described.”

  “I don’t know how much stock I would put in Lady Dalhousie’s recount of the event,” Wayland added, “but I concur. The thief is not Mrs. Julien, nor her husband.”

  “We’ve seen a cloaked figure around town at both the robberies that have occurred. I believe that she saw a cloaked figure, but whether that figure looked precisely how she described or acted as heinously, I cannot say.”

  “She was struck over the head rather hard, from the look of it,” Pru interjected. Whether that was a point in Lady Dalhousie’s defense or one against her, Katherine didn’t know.

  “The only clue I found in the garden, by the door leading to the back stair…” Katherine trailed off. She dropped her gaze to her reticule, frowning.

  “What is it?” Pru asked.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Katherine dug her fingers into her reticule and groped until she found the button. She offered it wordlessly to the other woman.

  Pru recoiled the moment she recognized it. “It isn’t mine! Or at the very least, if it is, I must have dropped it the other day. I was with Lord Annandale, searching for a deck of cards from the hotel staff when I heard the scream. If you don’t believe me, Miss Newcomb can attest to that fact. She’s been following me about like a lost kitten.”

  Katherine took a moment to absorb that information. She had encountered Pru by that very door the other day, shortly after Mrs. Quicke’s theft. Perhaps it had fallen off her clothes then.

  Pru added, “I’m not even wearing that dress today.”

  No. She was wearing her prettier dress, no longer attempting to appear dowdy. Her nicer dresses certainly weren’t adorned with these atrocious buttons. Katherine slipped the button into her reticule again, chiding herself over suspecting Pru. They had been at Lord Northbrook’s house party together! Not to mention, the woman had become a friend.

  Unless… what if Pru had an accomplice? She had been so insistent that Katherine accept her mother’s job, which ultimately led to them traveling to Bath together, without Mrs. Burwick. Katherine had been so caught up in the investigation that she hadn’t had time to consider Pru’s whereabouts. What if during the times she allegedly was with Lord Annandale, instead she was off stealing jewels?

  Don’t be ludicrous. Katherine was grasping at mist. Pru wasn’t a thief, and she certainly wasn’t a violent person… the incident with the Pink-Ribbon Murderer notwithstanding. The Burglar of Bath had to be someone else.

  “The only person left is Sir Hugh. He claimed that earring I found in the hotel.”

  Pru nodded. “And he has an influx of quid for the card tables. He must be selling the jewels as fast as he receives them. He isn’t a skilled enough player to have earned all that blunt.”

  “I went to see a pawnbroker the other morning. He hadn’t seen any of the jewels we described.”

  Wayland nodded. “I think I know the shop to which you’re referring. It might not be the only place to sell jewels within driving distance of Bath.”

  “I’ll ask Lyle. He has contacts he might be able to put to use to point us in a better direction. The stolen jewels must have turned up for sale somewhere by now unless the thief is taking out the stones and selling them by themselves.” As she spoke, she turned away from the group to cross the distance toward Lyle. They desperately needed another clue if they had any hope of unmasking the true thief.

  Wiping away the sweat on his brow, Lyle straightened. He looked pleased with himself. Above the sound of his invention as it boiled the pump water into steam, he loudly said, “It’ll take a few minutes before the steam does its trick.”

  Katherine sidestepped the humongous contraption. How did Lyle mean to bring this back to London? Shaking off the question, she beckoned him closer.

  He begged a moment from Grandma Bath, who waved him off, and joined Katherine in a quieter corner. “I don’t yet have an answer for you.”

  “I know. I have a favor to ask.”

  Although she studied his face for signs of trepidation, all she found was his exuberance over testing his invention. He truly was the happiest when inventing; he ought to make more time for it, rather than accepting a back-breaking workload of patrols.

  “What do you need?” he asked.

  “You have contacts near Bath to track stolen items, don’t you?”

  He frowned but nodded. “It’s how I knew of the pawnshop. But they aren’t all in Bath, and there might be others evading the law that I haven’t been able to locate.”

  “Could you reach out to your contacts to see if anyone has sold them the jewels or the gems from them? I have a hunch, but without catching him in the act or someone confirming that he sold the jewels to them, I cannot prove it.”

  Lyle narrowed his eyes. “I’ll ask and let you know should any of them confirm the sale. Who is your suspect?”

  “Sir Hugh. I’m certain I’ve seen him with tarnished and scratched silver on his clothing, and he’d had a recent influx of funds.” Everyone else, either she’d ruled out, or was… unthinkable.

  As the air filled with more steam, escaping Lyle’s contraption with a hiss and intermittent whistle, the stench of rotten eggs assaulted her. She wrinkled her nose and stepped away, even as Lyle stepped closer to look. At the front of his invention was a foot-wide glass-encased space. The statue rested within. With the steam, the glass had fogged to the point that she had to squint in order to discern the silhouette of the sculpture.

  “Drat, I can’t see anything.” Lyle opened a hinge on the top of the glass box, revealing a small door wide enough for him to stick his arm inside. Sir David adhered himself to Lyle’s elbow as he peered within. Steam billowed out of the hole, intensifying the horrid smell.

  Pinching her nose to ward away the smell, Grandma Bath leaned closer. As she did, she jostled her spectacles, and they slipped off the tip of her nose and tumbled into the box. “Oh dear!”

  “Don’t touch that,” Lyle warned her. “The steam will be scalding.”

  “I’ll retrieve that for you, my lady,” Sir David volunteered. He rolled his sleeves to his elbows and donned a leather glove before he carefully slid his hand into the hot box. As he removed the spectacles, he muttered under his breath and peered closer at them.


  Katherine stepped closer, able to see a fractal pattern on the lenses of Grandma Bath’s spectacles. Sir David’s hand trembled as he stared at it, mesmerized.

  “Eureka, that’s it!” He handed the spectacles to Grandma Bath and turned to Lyle. “Murphy, I have to run. Best of luck with your invention.” He doffed the glove, clapped Lyle on the shoulder, and bolted out of the Pump Room.

  Where was he going? Had he seen the imprint on the sculpture and ran before it implicated him?

  Lyle peered into the contraption and swore. Katherine wasn’t sure whether to run after Sir David or help Lyle.

  “I’m sorry, Katherine. Something’s gone wrong. It didn’t work.”

  His shoulders slumped as he slipped on the discarded glove and reached into the box to remove the statue. Moisture beaded on the surface as the cooler air struck it. At the base, a shimmer of metallic flecks wrapped around the sculpture. Excitement stole Katherine’s breath for a moment before she registered the size of the imprint. She glanced down at her hand. It was smaller — much smaller.

  Sir Hugh couldn’t have hands that small, could he? Katherine hadn’t noticed the size of his hands when they’d spoken. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the burglar must be a woman. But Lady Dalhousie had been adamant that her attacker was a man…

  Looking lost, Lyle turned to her. “I don’t know what happened. The steam must have shrunk the residue left by the attacker’s hand. I’ll try again, but I’m not certain if there’s anything left to find on the sculpture.”

  Katherine patted his shoulder. “I don’t blame you, Lyle. Even this is more than we would have been able to determine from looking at the statue ourselves. Thank you for trying.”

  He sighed but nodded. “I only wish I’d been of more use. It looks as though discovering where the jewels are being sold is our last hope of finding a clue.”