Page 66 of Secrets of the Heart

“What was that one concerning?” Rachel asked. “The one a year ago.”

“A wealthy goldsmith was attacked one night after he left his shop,” Michael told her. They had reached the park across the street from their house, and he walked into it, leading her to a bench and sitting down to finish his story.

“The man was knocked over the head and killed. The assailant took his gold pocket watch and the coins that were in his pockets. Straightforward enough, one would think. Killed by a thief. Now, in those same pockets was a key that opened the door to his shop, yet the thief, who robbed him right outside the store, did not take the key and open the store and steal a great deal of very valuable gold items and money.”

“That seems very careless of him,” Rachel commented. It was so pleasant to sit there, watching Michael talk, his face animated. How was it, she wondered, that she had never before noticed how very handsome her husband was?

“The store belonged to the man who died and to his partner, a less talented fellow and one, moreover, who lived beyond his means,” Michael went on. “The partner inherited the dead man’s half of the store, for he had no family, and such was their agreement. It aroused my suspicions immediately. How handy for his partner that the thief had happened to kill him in the course of stealing a few pounds worth of things. But I could find nothing to connect the partner to the death. He was at a dinner party at the time it happened. The man’s watch never turned up at a pawn shop. None of the usual thieves’ dives yielded any tales of a thief in his cups confessing.”

“Then how can you say that a murder done by someone other than the person who benefits is not common? You have had three like that, counting Mr. Birkshaw’s case.”

“Yes, but, you see, it is normally rare. When I consider all the other investigations I have had where—” He stopped and frowned thoughtfully. “That is odd. They are rather alike.”

“What are you thinking?” Rachel asked, excitement rising in her. “I can see that you are putting something together.”

“I’m not sure. But it is a pattern of sorts. One always looks for patterns in crimes. Thieves who follow a certain method. Killers who use the same instrument. Normally the pattern is that murders are done by the person who would benefit from the crime. But here, there is a pattern that the person who benefits could not have done it. So when I see a pattern that is very much unlike the normal pattern—well, it makes me wonder.”

“If the the three cases are connected somehow…?”

“It seems unlikely. And yet…it would be odd if they were random, don’t you think?”

“Could the same person have done all three?”

“That, too, seems unlikely. One crime took a very accomplished thief, one a poisoner who must have gotten inside the house—or paid someone to do it for him—and the other a killer who caved in someone’s skull. They were in separate parts of the country. The house party was in Dorset, the goldsmith in London, Mrs. Birkshaw in York. Still…I think it might be of benefit to pay a visit to Bow Street.”

In point of fact, they did not go to Bow Street, where the presence of a lady would have caused great consternation. Instead they met John Cooper, the Runner with whom Michael often worked, at an inn not far from headquarters. If Cooper, a large, slow-moving man with sleepy brown eyes, found it odd to be meeting Michael with an aristocratic woman along, he gave no evidence of it, merely tipped his hat to Rachel gravely.

“Now, what’s this that’s so important, guv’nor?” he asked. “You found out anything for me?”

“I’m not sure. All I have at the moment are questions,” Michael replied.

“Well, that’s typical, ain’t it?” Cooper responded good-naturedly. “Now, what would you be wantin’?”

“I am interested in unsolved cases,” Michael began.

“Well, we’ve got a might of them,” Cooper said. “Seems like more than ever, these days.”

“Does it?”

“Aye, there’s allus a lot of things you can’t find no one to blame for, or, leastways, no proof of it. Well, you know that well enough. It’s why I come to you so often. But the last couple of years seems like much more.”

“What I am interested in particularly are ones in which the person who would benefit the most could not have committed the crime.”

Cooper’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You are on to something, aren’t you?”

“I may be. But I need a lot of information first. Can you get that for me?”

“Aye, I ’spect I can do that. Long as you’ll let me know what you figure out.”

“Of course.”

The Runner looked at Rachel, giving her a slow smile. “He’s a downy one, he is.”

“Yes,” Rachel agreed. “I have found that he is very crafty.”

Michael looked at her narrowly, but Cooper seemed happily unaware of any undertone to their conversation. “Aye. He is that.”

“And very good at deception,” Rachel added.