by Evelyn James
Chang took the envelope, gave Jacobs an apologetic smile, then set himself to the task of counting the money and ensuring it was real.
“Thank you, Mr Jacobs,” he said once he was satisfied. Pocketing the cash, he pushed the box across to him. “Enjoy your dragon.”
Mr Jacobs could not resist opening the box again and looking at the little netsuke. Chang’s drink arrived and he sipped at it appreciatively, while Mr Jacobs feasted his eyes on the dragon. It was as if Jacobs had never seen it before, as if every detail was not already engraved on his memory. He gave a contented sigh.
“My uncle knew a treasure when he saw it.”
“Hmm,” Chang mused. “A man after my own heart, it seems. Not prepared to allow a little thing such as rightful ownership deter him from getting what he wanted.”
Jacobs cast a withering look at Chang. Clara sensed that the atmosphere among them was rapidly deteriorating. It was time they got going. She rose.
“Won’t you finish your tea?” Chang asked her pleasantly.
She looked into those viper eyes.
“We have done what we needed to,” she said. “Why detain you longer?”
“Do you not appreciate my good company?” Chang asked her with amusement.
“I think we both know the answer to that,” Clara replied.
Mr Jacobs had risen too, Clara hoped to get him away from Chang before an argument began. She could see Mr Jacobs was barely keeping his temper in check. Unfortunately, Chang decided to rise with them. He drained his whisky and escorted them to the door of the restaurant. They stepped outside together. Clara desperately wanted to depart, but Mr Jacobs seemed determined to linger.
“Who did you steal this for?” he hissed to Chang.
Chang merely laughed at him.
“Why would I tell you?” he said.
Jacobs pressed the box with the dragon deep into his pocket and kept his hand upon it.
“Crook!” he declared loudly.
Clara was about to grab his arm and whisk him away when there was the shrill noise of a whistle and several men, previously standing around like idle passers-by, suddenly converged on the trio by the restaurant. In one horrible instant Clara realised that the men rushing towards her were the police. She recognised Inspector Arran among them.
“You betrayed me!” Chang growled.
“No!” Clara declared, but then her eyes went to Jacobs who was looking smug with himself. She gasped, the fool had double-crossed her too.
Everything began to occur too fast. Chang, his usual smile turned to an angry snarl, grabbed Clara from behind and pulled her to him. The next instant she realised he had drawn a knife from his pocket and it was pressed against her throat.
“Nobody come any closer!” Chang yelled at the plain clothes policemen fast approaching.
The policemen stopped. Inspector Arran was in the middle of them and called a halt. Mr Jacobs had staggered back when Chang grabbed Clara, now he was looking on in horror, for the first time realising the calamity he had caused. Clara briefly closed her eyes, took a breath and calmed herself. She knew Tommy, Bob and O’Harris would be racing over to her aid but, in reality, she would have to get herself out of this mess. After all, the knife was being held to her throat.
“I’ll kill her if you follow me!” Chang snarled at the policemen, before dragging Clara back through the restaurant door.
The restaurant was now in chaos. The innocent diners were screaming or panicking at the sight of a man threatening to kill a woman – a woman he had just been seen dining with. Other figures, men in suits, were standing up and acting surprisingly calm. Clara guessed these were Chang’s men.
“I didn’t inform the police,” Clara told Chang, being careful as she spoke not to slice her jaw on the knife. “I told Jacobs the police should not be involved. I thought he understood.”
“You thought wrong!” Chang growled in her ear. He glanced at his men. “Go check the back door!”
Two men disappeared. Clara continued to remain as calm as she could. Panicking was not an option.
“I would prefer it if you didn’t kill me,” she said, hoping to ease the tension. “I have been double-crossed too.”
“Miss Fitzgerald, I really do not care what happens to you,” Chang hissed.
“I care!” Clara retorted. “And, I should point out, I have behaved honourably towards you. At least as honourably as such a situation can warrant.”
“You are helping me get out of here, Miss Fitzgerald,” Chang said, his voice low and nasty. “And when we are done, if I get away safely, I may let you go.”
“That does not sound a great deal to my ears,” Clara countered.
“What exact choice do you have?” Chang laughed at her, no humour in his tone.
His men had returned.
“They are at the back door too, boss,” one informed him.
Chang cursed.
“Then we might as well go out the front way,” Chang hesitated even as he said this.
“You didn’t see this coming, did you?” Clara remarked, not inclined to play nice. “I am actually disappointed you had not considered this as a possibility.”
“Oh? And I suppose you envisioned yourself being held hostage, Miss Clever Boots Fitzgerald?” Chang snapped back, turning his head to her and letting the knife drop a bit as he spoke.
“Now you mention it,” Clara answered. “I did come prepared for an emergency.”
At that, Clara allowed the hat pin she had borrowed off Annie (just in case) which was concealed in her sleeve to drop into her hand. She stabbed backwards with it, catching Chang in his thigh. She rammed it hard and deep and Chang doubled with pain, the knife automatically dropping from her throat. Clara leapt forward. Chang grabbed for her hand and held her back. Instinctively she kicked out at him, not wanting to give him the chance to recover sufficiently to threaten her again. Due to Chang being bent double, the kick caught him in the throat and he gagged as he went backwards.
Clara was now free and wasted no time running for the front door. Some of Chang’s men began to dart after her, others were going to the aid of their boss, but Clara had the advantage of knowing what she was about to do and made it to the door before anyone could grab her. She ran straight to Inspector Arran, who dragged her behind the police line, then blew his whistle again and sent his men charging into the restaurant.
For the next few minutes it was not plain what was occurring. Clara retreated to the garden with her friends. Mr Jacobs arrived there too, looking sheepish. Mr Yaxley took up a protective position between him and Bob, who was close to toppling the man for his foolishness. Clara put a hand on Bob’s arm.
“I’m alive and well. No point in more violence,” she told him. “I’ll just add this inconvenience to Mr Jacobs’ bill.”
“I do apologise Miss Fitzgerald. I did not mean for such a thing to happen. I just wanted the fiend arrested,” Mr Jacobs looked small behind his butler and was not quite able to meet anyone’s eye. “I went to Inspector Park-Coombs and explained I was filing a complaint against the man I believed stole the dragon, and he gave me the name of Inspector Arran and said he would understand. I should not have gone behind your back.”
“No,” Clara told him angrily, “you shouldn’t have.”
“I apologise,” Jacobs said meekly.
But the deed was done. Clara rubbed at her throat, relieved it was unscathed. She did not like to think what Chang’s reaction would be to this skirmish. He was not a man you wanted to make enemies with. She would have to be even more careful.
Eventually the chaos died down. Inspector Arran appeared from the restaurant with his troops. Several were injured; bruised faces, slashed arms and bloody noses seemed the order of the day. A handful of Chang’s thugs had been arrested, but as the prisoners were paraded out of the restaurant, Clara was disheartened to see Chang was not among them. Chang had slipped away despite everything. But perhaps that was just as well. What could the police do to Chan
g, after all?
Inspector Arran approached Clara, trying to get a statement off her, but she refused to say anything other than that she had met Chang in the restaurant by coincidence. She would not press charges, she had no desire to arouse Chang’s ire further. All she wanted now was to get home and forget this ever happened. Jacobs looked in a similar state. He had the dragon safe and it was plain he was now regretting his insistence on summoning the police. What had he achieved? Not a great deal and Clara could see he was now wondering what revenge Chang might take for his rash decision. Jacobs would be upping his security again.
Bob sat next to Clara on the train home, while Tommy and O’Harris sat opposite her. The first part of their journey their compartment contained two other passengers, so they said nothing about the incident in London. Halfway home, the other passengers departed and Clara was soon assailed by questions. The obvious one was how she had slipped away from Chang. Clara explained about the hat pin.
“And what made you take that with you?” O’Harris asked curiously.
“I suppose it was my natural cynicism,” Clara shrugged. “I didn’t trust Chang to play fair.”
“So you armed yourself?” O’Harris said in amazement.
“This is Clara, old man,” Tommy laughed. “She expects the worst in people. I’m just surprised she didn’t hide the dining room poker up her sleeve.”
“The hat pin was more convenient,” Clara said demurely. “I thought it might come in handy. Actually, I had one up both sleeves.”
With that Clara shook her left sleeve and the second hat pin fell out. She shoved it into her hat. Tommy laughed. Bob grinned. O’Harris just looked on in a daze.
“Chang won’t forget this lightly,” Tommy suddenly stopped laughing and his tone became sombre.
“And I won’t forget lightly,” Clara replied. “No, I shall write him a letter when we get home suggesting we call this one a draw.”
“This one?” O’Harris asked.
“I have a nasty feeling Chang will pop up in my affairs once again before long,” Clara replied. “He is challenging to avoid.”
“What about Mr Jacobs?” Bob rumbled, his voice like mountains crashing together in its low tone of anger.
“Mr Jacobs will pay my bill, with the extra I shall add to it for my own inconvenience. And then he can spend the rest of his days worrying whether Brilliant Chang is out for revenge,” Clara paused for a moment. “I suppose I understand why he did it. It rankled his ethics and his pride to think a thief would go scot-free for the crime he committed. But he acted rashly, as did Inspector Arran. There will be a time when we can catch Chang and have him warming a prison cell, but this was not it.”
“As long as you are all right,” O’Harris said.
“I am,” Clara smiled. “And one day I shall have my own revenge on Chang.”
Clara smiled at them all.
“And it won’t just involve a hat pin.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Inspector Park-Coombs knocked on Clara’s front door. Annie let him in and he found Clara in the parlour just finishing her breakfast. Clara put aside the last bite of toast.
“Inspector?”
“I’m feeling rather guilty,” Park-Coombs stood before her looking surprisingly abashed.
“Oh dear, Inspector. What could have possibly brought that on?” Clara asked him.
“Inspector Arran has just been in touch with me on the telephone. He informed me of the events of yesterday. I didn’t realise, when I gave Mr Jacobs Arran’s name, what would occur. I placed you in danger.”
“Hardly your fault,” Clara said, pushing out a chair to try and get him to sit down. “I suppose I should tell you that I instructed Mr Jacobs not to involve the police in this matter. I knew how tied your hands would be.”
“Brilliant Chang is a pest,” Park-Coombs grumbled, finally sitting down. “A thorn in my side, just like he is a thorn in Arran’s side. But there will always be men like him around and, as long as there are people in power helping them, I will have to bite my tongue and watch on. I understand why you suggested the police not be involved.”
“My task was to restore the dragon to Mr Jacobs. Had this been a murder case I would have been less pragmatic and insisted we find a way to achieve justice. As it was, I thought it best we simply arrange for the return of the dragon,” Clara shrugged her shoulders. “And Chang caused me no harm, in the end. Though I wait to see what he will do next.”
“If you are fearful, I shall offer police protection,” Park-Coombs declared immediately.
Clara merely shook her head.
“I will be fine. And your police constables have better things to do.”
“Don’t remind me,” Park-Coombs became morose again. “The Superintendent is still badgering me. He wants more constables patrolling the streets. All very well, except he is not offering extra money for them! And he still wants me to hire a woman constable.”
“No luck with that?” Clara asked.
Park-Coombs hefted his shoulders with a sigh.
“I might have an idea for you,” Clara said. “Come with me.”
Clara took the inspector across Brighton and to Sarah Butler’s offices. She wasn’t sure if the woman would be at work after her recent misadventures, but she hoped so. She also hoped that Sarah was still interested in improving the world she lived in and helping others, despite her setbacks. They were in luck. Sarah Butler was in her office, writing a letter.
“I have paid the rent for the week,” she said, as Clara explained how she had hoped she would be there. “I might as well use the space.”
“Have you made any plans?” Clara asked.
Sarah shook her head.
“Not yet.”
“Then may I suggest that Inspector Park-Coombs here might have just the opportunity you are looking for?”
Sarah glanced at the inspector cautiously.
“What sort of opportunity?”
“The inspector needs a female police constable,” Clara explained. “I thought the role might suit you?”
“I don’t have the resources to volunteer for such a role,” Sarah shook her head.
“It isn’t voluntary,” Park-Coombs interrupted. “You will be paid.”
Sarah’s face lit up with interest, but she was still uncertain.
“I didn’t intend to work for anyone…” she mumbled.
“Sometimes working for someone else is not a bad thing,” Clara told her. “You wanted to help people, did you not?”
Sarah gave a slight nod of her head.
“This way, you will be helping people, but you will have the back-up of the entire police force. No one will come barging into your rooms to shout at or threaten you again,” Clara pointed out. “Not only that, but you will be doing something that few women have ever done before. Certainly not in Brighton. You will be a pioneer for women!”
“Steady on,” Park-Coombs frowned at Clara. “It’s mainly about talking to women and girls, providing a friendly ear for their troubles.”
“A pioneer,” Sarah whispered to herself, then she looked at the inspector directly. “Do I get a uniform?”
“Naturally,” he agreed. “I should warn you, as I would warn any woman taking on this role, you will face prejudice and resentment. From your fellow constables as much as the general public. I know my men, I picked many of them, they are good constables. But some of them are very old-fashioned.”
Clara had visions of the desk sergeant, her nemesis. What would he make of a female police constable? It could finish him off.
“I can handle prejudice,” Sarah replied. “I am use to it. Just not the threats or danger I faced alone as a private detective.”
“You won’t be alone,” Clara reassured her. “You will always have the other constables to rely on, and the Inspector.”
Park-Coombs smiled at Clara, appreciating her trust in him.
“Well, Miss Butler? Would you like to give it a try?”
&
nbsp; Sarah Butler considered all this for a while. Finally she turned her tough gaze on the inspector.
“I think it might be worth my consideration,” she said to him. “I’ll give it a go.”
The relief that came over the inspector was palpable. He grinned at both Sarah and Clara, which was unusual in itself.
“That is very good news,” he said. “Very good.”
Clara was delighted. She thought Sarah Butler would make a good police constable. She had the presence for it, but also the ability to be sympathetic. She didn’t say it aloud, but she also suspected Sarah would be a match for the inspector, should the need arise. It was a very good arrangement on the whole and Clara was pleased she had thought of it.
On the way home from Sarah’s offices, Clara dropped by Mr Jacobs’ house to supply him with her bill. For once Yaxley the butler let her in without a fuss. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes, as if he too felt guilty for the mishap of the previous day. Mr Jacobs was in his usual sitting room. The workmen were also present, installing a new light fitting in the ceiling. When Jacobs saw Clara he flushed red.
“I have come to submit my bill,” Clara informed him, her tone rather cold. She was still upset by what had occurred.
“Thank you,” Mr Jacobs took the envelope she offered him without meeting her eyes. “I thought I would let you know, I have been thinking everything over and I have decided to offer the green jade dragon to the Japanese ambassador, so he might return it to its rightful home.”
Clara was mildly surprised.
“I thought you intended to keep the dragon?” she said.
“I had intended that,” Jacobs agreed. “But, after what occurred, I started to think again. It is an object, after all. A thing. It is not a person. People have died over this lump of stone, including my uncle. You came into harm’s way because of it. I keep thinking that people are worth more than this dragon. In any case, now when I look upon it, it stirs thoughts of my uncle’s misdeeds. I don’t want to remember him that way.”
Mr Jacobs moved to his netsuke display case and stared at the dragon, where it sat once more restored to its place.
