The Devil's Thief (25 page)

“Hmm,”
Hil said noncommittally, and Roger looked at Alasdair askance from one
bloodshot eye.

“All
right,” he admitted. “I’m still a little angry about the fact that she actually
took the pearl. And that she sold it, of course. But as soon as I get it back,
I’m sure I’ll feel better about that. After all, she feels guilty enough for
the both of us.”

“So
for Miss Harte, getting the pearl back means forgiveness,” Hil said. “Which of
you is more determined? I wonder. You to save Miss Harte, or Miss Harte to earn
your forgiveness?”

“I
had met her before. Did I tell you that?” Alasdair said. He ran a hand through
his hair self-consciously. “I just didn’t recognize my midnight Juliet in the
nondescript girl next door. What does that say about me, do you suppose?
Perhaps I still need forgiveness, too.”

 
“Why does she dress the way she does?”
Roger asked. “I mean, certainly her clothes are well made and fashionable
enough, I suppose, but they do not show her to advantage.”

Alasdair
thought about the disguise that Julianna donned each day. The timid woman she
showed the world would never break into a man’s bedroom to steal a precious gem
or dump a glass of lemonade on a drunken sot. She wouldn’t confront a man the
way she’d confronted Alasdair that night at Hil’s or match him measure for
measure when anger turned to desire. He hadn’t seen it, not until she’d given
herself away. He was quite sure no one else saw through her facade at all.
Well, other than the people in this room. “It’s a disguise to protect herself.”

Hil
knew what he meant. “Yes, I believe so. She hides who she really is from the
world. I wouldn’t call it a disguise. I think she wears it more like armor.”

“Well,
it’s silly if you ask me,” Roger said with a yawn. “Most women are flaunting
their assets as much as they can, hoping to catch a fellow. And none of them
are as clever or as resourceful as your Miss Harte. Here is a perfectly good
woman hiding herself away. From whom, I ask? It’s not as if she’s wanted for
murder.” He suddenly sat up, wide eyed. “You don’t suppose she killed someone,
do you? Maybe that’s why she knows unscrupulous people.”

“Don’t
be daft,” Alasdair said, glaring at him. “Juli didn’t kill anyone.”

“Ask
her about her childhood,” Hil suggested. “I think you’ll learn a great deal if
you do.”

Alasdair
narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Hil. “What do you know?”

“Quite
a lot, including secrets that aren’t mine to reveal,” Hil said without
hesitation. “And for that, the two of you should be very grateful, since many
of those secrets are yours.”

 
“I only want to know Julianna’s,”
Alasdair
said.

Hil
shook his head with a smile. “Can you tell me anything about the man she sold
the pearl to?” he asked, returning to the original topic of their discussion.
“Other than his unscrupulousness and his willingness to threaten a young lady.
Unfortunately, there are a great many men in London who fit that vague
description.”

“And
you know quite a few of them,” Alasdair said. Hil nodded in agreement. “Why is
that?” Alasdair pressed. He’d always wondered how and why his friend managed to
know so many unsavory people. He looked at Roger, who resembled a debauched
fallen angel draped across the sofa. Suddenly Alasdair got the uncomfortable
feeling that they might be as unsavory as some of Hil’s other acquaintances.

“That
would fall under the category of secrets,” Hil answered. “Now, what else did
Miss Harte tell you about the man who bought the pearl?”

Alasdair
rubbed the top of his head self-consciously. This story definitely made him
feel unsavory. “First of all, I am well aware that I am going to look quite bad
in this story, so neither of you should feel the need to comment on it. We can
just go right on to the important facts.”

 
“You haven’t looked good in any of this
business so far,” Roger said, “so no need to leave any of the ugly details out
now.”

Taking
a deep breath, and refusing to look at Roger, who was obviously enjoying his
discomfort, Alasdair told them what he saw. “When I followed her the other day,
she went to a place on Tottenham Court called the Black Horse. She met a boy
there, someone she obviously knew, who led her inside. I assumed he was her
lover.” Roger snorted. “She claims she knows him because he’s placed two of his
children in the foundling home which she supports in her charitable work. I
believe she stole the pearl because she wanted the money for the home or some
other charity.”

“Oh,”
Hil said with interest. “She told you about the foundling home.”

“Yes.
She had already mentioned her charitable work to me the other day without going
into detail. How did you know?”

“Of
course she did,” Hil replied vaguely, without answering the question. “Go on.”

“Apparently
this boy introduced her to the man who bought the pearl. I don’t know the name
of either of them. She refused to tell me. But if we find the lad, we should be
able to find the man with the pearl.”

“So
you need help finding two men,” Hil commented with a smile. “Hardly a boy if he
has two children.”

“Do
you know him?” Alasdair asked hopefully.

“No.
Not that I know of. That’s a rather sketchy bit of information to go on, don’t
you think?” Hil shoved Roger’s feet off his lap and stood up. “But I do, in
fact, know someone who probably does know who this young man is.”

Roger
groaned. “Why am I not surprised by that?”

                                               
 
*
        
*
         
*

They
found Hil’s friend, John Vickery, at Wild’s pub after searching half of London
for him. Naturally they’d started at his office on Bow Street, but as was
usually the case, the investigator was out and about looking for trouble and a
reward.

“Here
now,” Vickery said as he stood to greet Hil, “if it isn’t Sir Hilary.” He shook
his hand vigorously. “I’m never sure whether to be happy when you come around,
or to worry about what the reward is going to cost me.”

“Now,
now, Vickery,” Hil said mildly, “no need to worry. It’s a simple job today.” He
took a seat at the man’s table and indicated that the others should do the
same. “We just need some information.”

“Well,
that’s often the most expensive thing hereabouts,” Vickery told him.

Alasdair
silently agreed with him. The pub was filled with the same sort of miscreants
and criminals that he’d seen on Tottenham Court Road the other day. He
surreptitiously patted his pockets and took inventory of the valuables he’d
still like to have when they left. Roger looked as uneasy as he was.

“Mr.
Sharp here”—Hil pointed to Alasdair—“is looking for two men. Both
are probably criminals of some sort. But we don’t want you to find them. There
is no reward. Although certainly I’ll compensate you for your time in this
matter.”

Vickery
looked puzzled. “Don’t want me to find them? Why not? What did they do?” His
look turned suspicious. “I can’t be a party to another crime. If he wants
revenge or some such, that’s not the business I’m in.”

“I
just need to talk to them,” Alasdair said. “They have something that belongs to
me and I want it back.”

“Burglary?”
Vickery asked hopefully. “Finders’ fee?”

“No,”
Alasdair said quickly. “Neither of them stole from me, not exactly.”

Vickery
sighed and sipped his ale. “Sounds like one of those complicated situations you
gentlemen specialize in. Well, how can I help you?”

“One
of them is a young man, rather short, bullish, with reddish hair and a swaggering
walk. I saw him on Tottenham Court outside an establishment called the Black
Horse just a few days ago. I understand he has two children in a foundling
home.”

“The
Black Horse?” Vickery said, suddenly very interested. “That would be Wiley, is
my guess. Runs a gang from there. Pinchers, cons, prostitutes. He
kill
someone?”

“Wiley.”
Alasdair tried the name and found he disliked it immensely. That must be him.
“No, no he didn’t kill anyone. At least not that I know of.”

“Too
bad,” Vickery said. “Wouldn’t mind getting that one. He’s been on the street
since before he could walk. You won’t catch that one unless he lets you.”

“Again,”
Hil said, “we do not wish to catch him. We merely wish to speak with Mr.
Wiley.” He spoke loud enough for half the pub the hear him.

“He
introduced an acquaintance of mine to a man who bought something from her,
something that I wish to buy back. I fear the man is a rather unscrupulous
fellow,” Alasdair said.

Vickery
laughed as if at a great joke. “ ‘Unscrupulous’? If it’s who I think it is,
that is an understatement, sir. Seeing as how it was Wiley who introduced your
friend to this man, then I’d conjecture it’s none other than Blackman himself.
A receiver of the worst sort, but clever, clever, clever.
Owns the Black Horse. Wiley is one of his suppliers.”

Alasdair
felt his cheeks pale. What on earth was Julianna doing consorting with men like
that? She was lucky to be alive. He stood immediately. “Then I am off to the
Black Horse. Thank you, Mr. Vickery.” He stuck out his hand to the Bow Street
investigator. “I appreciate your time and the information. Send a bill to my
secretary at Bedford Square.”

Vickery
just sipped his ale. “I’m sorry to say, Mr. Sharp, that you won’t get in to see
Blackman as easily as that.”

Alasdair
slowly sank back down into his chair. “What do you mean?”

“Blackman
doesn’t just see anybody who knocks,” Vickery explained, wiping some foam from
his lip. “That’s what Wiley and his ilk are for. Men like you wouldn’t get past
the front door.”

“I
see,” Alasdair said. “So I need this Wiley to introduce me to Blackman?”

Vickery
nodded. “Or someone like him. I’m afraid I can’t be much help there. They know
me and all the other investigators at Bow Street. I can ask around for a
contact if you’d like, and about Wiley. Will there
be
remuneration?”

“Of
course,” Hil replied smoothly with a friendly smile. “We realize that time is
valuable and we are prepared to compensate those who assist us in this matter.”

“All
right,” Vickery said with a decisive nod. “That ought to do it, then.”

This
time Vickery shook Alasdair’s hand when he rose to leave. “If your friend is a
woman, Mr. Sharp, then I’d be careful with her around Wiley,” he advised. “That
one attracts women like bees to honey.”

Alasdair’s
eye twitched. “Yes, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said through clenched teeth.

*
         
*
         
*

Julianna
paced across the waiting room at the solicitor’s office. After Alasdair had
left last night she’d prioritized her emergencies. First, she had to deal with
the rent money for the foundling home. She could not, would not, spend another
dime of Alasdair’s money, which was how she was now thinking of the money she’d
received from Blackman. If she couldn’t get the pearl back, she would have to
give Alasdair the money. This was a less-than-desirable outcome, but since
their relationship seemed to be progressing toward something, the pearl
situation, as he called it, needed to be resolved in one way or another. Plus,
she hadn’t given up hope that she still might manage to buy back the pearl.

The
secretary opened the inner door and motioned Julianna forward. She came in and
took a seat across the desk from Mr. Wainwright, the solicitor.

“I
am sorry, Mr. Wainwright,” Julianna said quietly after he greeted her
pleasantly. “I simply do not have the money to pay the debt in full. I can make
a small payment toward it, and perhaps we can come to an agreement about
further payments until the debt is fully paid.”

He
was frowning at her, though he was clearly upset by her plight and not her
failure to produce the rent. “It is I who am sorry, Miss Harte. But we simply
cannot allow you to keep the house if you cannot pay the rent. The new owner
was very adamant about it. He purchased the house as an investment, and was
quite distressed to learn that the current tenant was a charitable foundling
home that had paid rent sporadically.”

Julianna
nodded unhappily. “That is certainly understandable, sir.” She sat gingerly on
the edge of the chair. She was a little tender, though Alasdair had been gentle
with her the night before. It was a constant reminder of the intimacy they had
shared and what she needed to do. She leaned over to slide an envelope toward
Mr. Wainwright. “I have written a letter to the new owner, pleading for more
time to gather the money. Is it possible that you could deliver the note for
me, Mr. Wainwright?”

Mr.
Wainwright considered the envelope for a moment before picking it up and
putting it in his desk drawer. “We were told not to contact him until the
matter was settled to his satisfaction, Miss Harte. But I shall see what I can
do.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately the bank is another factor here. If the
current owner does not produce payment on the house within thirty days, the
bank has a lien on the property and it will take possession. That means if he
cannot get the money from the tenant, that would be you, Miss Harte,
then
he has to produce it himself. In essence, he would have
to pay for the property twice.”