He looked blank.“Bitte?”
“To be missed by the searchers,” she elucidated. “It would take ages, and the police post is just around the corner, even if the counter doesn’t face this way. The thief is too clever to take such a frightful risk. And think of trying to find the jewels again, in all that stuffing! Anyway, they were probably sold long ago.”
By now, for all she knew, a jeweller might have turned up at Scotland Yard, ready to identify the miscreant. Hoping to tie him to the murder as well, Alec would not necessarily rush to arrest him, so Daisy would be left in the dark, her deductions based on false premises … unless she managed to extract the information from him, which in turn depended on her having a chance to talk to him. This was the first time shehad been involved in an investigation so peripherally, and she was finding it absolutely maddening.
“Never more see I mine ruby,” gloomed the Grand Duke. “Never more see I mine contry.”
“Buck up,” Daisy urged. “Have you had lunch yet? The world will look brighter after something to eat. Let’s pop up to the refreshment room.”
The Grand Duke heaved a sigh from the depths of his much-tried Slavo-Teutonic soul. “De place to take a botiful yoonk lady is de Ritz,” he said, “but dis I cannot. A sandvich for you I buy.”
The botiful yoonk lady gladly accepted.
Over lunch, they talked about Transcarpathia. Its history had been turbulent, to say the least. At various times it had suffered the hegemonic attentions of Poland, Lithuania, Russia, Bulgaria, Hungary, Prussia, Turkey, Rumania, and Austria, always retaining shreds of independence because no one really wanted it much. Listening to a description, Daisy could see why.
What she could not see was why Rudolf Maximilian expected the downtrodden peasantry to rise up and restore their erstwhile masters to the throne (or whatever Grand Dukes sat on). Far from wishing to overthrow the Bolshevik invaders, they had probably welcomed them with open arms.
She tactfully refrained from saying so to the unhappy young man. He was not likely to gain possession of the ruby, but if he did, she could only hope he’d have the sense to use the proceeds to make a comfortable life in exile for his family.
It seemed less and less likely that he was the thief. On the other hand, given his eagerness to draw his sword on a defenceless cave bear, he still looked like a possible murderer.
The two were not necessarily the same man, Daisy reminded herself. As Alec said, coincidences do happen.
After lunch, she went back to the dinosaur gallery to see how Saltopus was getting on. Not very fast, she discovered. A few inches of spine now held the absorbed attention of Steadman and his assistant. O’Brien was not present. A fair crowd was gathered around the barrier, its members coming and going.
“You won’t miss much if you come back tomorrow, miss,” said Sergeant Atkins. “They’ll be at it for days.”
Daisy went home to transcribe the day’s notes.
Alec had had a frustrating morning. He had interviewed six bank managers, the four curators’ plus the Grand Duke’s and ffinch-Brown’s. Five had refused to say more than that their clients were solvent and no unusual transactions had come to their attention.
Only Ruddlestone’s had been more forthcoming, and he had reported nothing unexpected. Ruddlestone lived up to his income. He had not recently received a large legacy or won a large sum on the races, nor, as far as the manager knew, was he in debt.
As far as he knew—that was the problem. Any of the six could have had an account with another bank, or even in Post Office savings, which he had emptied to pay for the strass gems. Once the account was closed, the associated papers could be destroyed, leaving no trace except in the unknown bank itself.
To circularize every possible financial institution would be an enormous job, and very likely unproductive. The A.C. did not even feel justified in applying for warrants to compel the known bank managers to reveal their clients’ secrets, if any.
“We have no reason to single these six out from any number of other possible suspects,” he pointed out, “except an assumed connection with the murder. Sorry, Fletcher, but you need more evidence.”
Stymied, Alec returned to his office, where Tom was sorting through piles of reports.
“All negative, Chief. What next?”
“Our best hope now is for a jeweller or fence to come forward. I’d better see Grange’s and Randell’s bank managers, I suppose, but I don’t expect much there. We’ll talk to everyone again, and I want to go over the ground in the museum more thoroughly.”
“Search it ourselves, Chief?” asked Tom, appalled.
“Great Scott, no! Study the scenes of the crimes, how to get here from there, what can be seen from where. The plans are useful but I need to take another look. Then, I’m afraid, we’ll spend the evening reading every report through in case we’ve missed something. I swear, Tom, you shall have a few days off when this is over, even if half the population of London gets bumped off in the meantime.”
“It’d make the missus happy,” Tom admitted.
And maybe Alec could get married. Then at least he’d be able to go home to Daisy, even if he worked eighteen hours a day, seven days a week.
He rang her up from his office that evening.
“She’s working,” announced Lucy, who answered the ’phone. “No disturbances allowed … except you. Hang on a minute.”
Daisy sounded preoccupied. “Hallo, darling. I’m glad you ’phoned, there’s something I wanted to tell you. Now what was it?”
