Elijah decided to retrace his steps to the other jewelers and ask them to check their inventory for any fake pieces. Perhaps that was the link. By the end of the day, he was glad to go home and smell a stew bubbling in the kitchen.
***
The next day, Eli was waylaid at the Bow Street office. All seven owners reported one of their more expensive pieces had been switched. This time, Elijah brought a sketch pad with him when he returned to the jewelry shops. He created a likeness of each item and took down the description of the seller.
Each told the same story. A couple had come in wanting an expensive piece made. They sold a piece to help pay for it. But instead of ordering that day, they took the blunt and made an appointment to return. They never did.
The couple was described each time with the same height and build, but their hair color differed along with facial hair for the man. He sometimes had a beard, or a mustache, or both, but never clean-shaven. She was always lovely, tall, and slender. The accents also changed. One couple was Irish, another Scottish, French, and German.
When he met with George Ruthven again, he showed his superior the sketches. “I think it’s one couple in disguise. They use the same ploy, and the female is very flirtatious. She could have easily distracted the owners, allowing her accomplice to swap the original with a fake.”
Ruthven frowned. “How are they getting into the safe?”
“Several owners recall the female following them. She must have seen where the key was kept. A good lockpick might get inside the shop, but opening a double tumbler would require a key.” Eli shook his head. “I’d wager all the thefts occurred within a short time period.”
“But what about the shops where they didn’t have a key?”
“The switch was done before the jewelry was put in the safe.”
“That’s a possibility. If you solve this, Norton, I’ll raise your salary,” said Ruthven, nodding in agreement. “Good work.”
The praise filled Elijah with pride, though he’d decided he would quit as soon as he had enough blunt to open his own shop. Hopefully, with a beautiful Ruby of his own to help him.
He met Gus at a tavern near Houghton Street, where Ruby had lived. They talked to locals and learned Mr. Alberts and his daughter had been liked well enough. One man remembered when Alberts had left his job as a coal delivery man to work for someone in Whitechapel. It had been soon after his wife died.
Elijah passed around the sketch of Mason, but no one recognized him or admitted to knowing him. But as they left, a barmaid pulled on Gus’s sleeve. “Meet me out back,” she said.
“Think she fancies you?” asked Eli with a smirk.
“She didn’t smile. If she fancied me, she would have smiled, given me a nicer invitation,” replied Gus, frowning.
They walked through an alley to the back of the tavern. The woman came out, peering up and down the dark lane. “I saw him when I visited my sister. She lives in the Limehouse District and rented a room next door. Is he in trouble?”
“Could you tell us the direction?” asked Gus, his dark eyes studying the barmaid.
“It’s four down from The Grapes, toward the docks,” she said. “My sister fancied him. I’d like to know if she should keep away from him.”
“Yes, she should,” replied Elijah, sliding a coin into her palm. “Thank you for your help.”
“I’m feeling a wee thirst coming on,” said Gus as they walked away. “Fancy a bumper at The Grapes?”
The pair took a hackney to Limehouse, then walked along Narrow Street until they came to The Grapes. It was a working-class tavern, usually filled with dockworkers, sailors, and local patrons, and always crowded. Elijah had only visited once, but Gus and Harry met informants there often.
Much of the clientele came and went with the tide. Many here only patronized the Limehouse area when their ship was docked on the Thames. The Grapes’s ideal location on the riverfront, next to the Limehouse docks and basin, made it popular with any crew. There were warehouses behind this street for storing the latest shipments and the merchandise waiting to go out. With a hundred conversations taking place at once, a man could get a great deal of information in a short amount of time.
Gus hunched his shoulders, an almost unconscious movement when he entered a crowded place. His size could be off-putting, and he had been used to making himself smaller since childhood. His size, however, was helpful when trying to order ale at a crowded bar. The scent of unwashed bodies and ale assaulted their nostrils as they made their way toward the kegs.
Eli scanned the room and its occupants, wondering if Mr. Alberts had stopped in here for a bumper before setting sail. Once they had their drinks, Gus led the way to an available space near a wall where they could see the patrons coming in and out. They waited about an hour before Mason walked in. He looked nervously about as he waited to get the barkeep’s attention.
Gus and Eli flanked the man, Gus’s bear paw clamping onto the man’s shoulder. Mason looked at Elijah and frowned, then looked the other way and froze.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Mr. Mason,” said Gus quietly, bending down to be sure the man heard. “Let’s take a walk.”
When Mason threw a glance over his shoulder and tried to duck away, Gus wrapped his hand around the man’s neck and pushed him toward the door. “That ain’t very mannerly trying to run off.”
Outside, the trio walked between several groups chatting, then turned down the alley. Gus shoved the man against the wall and rose to his full height. “Well, my friend, we need some information, and you’re going to provide it. Understood?”
Mason nodded, eyes darting back and forth between Gus and Elijah. “What do ye want?”
