and then expect me to accept it and move on.’
Jake sighed. He walked a few moments in silence, then he said, ‘I told you before that back in Paris I looked into a crime ring called the Accountants.’
‘They stole from people who had themselves stolen these things.’
‘Right. Mac did a job for them on the Riviera. It was his favourite haunt: rich people, flaunting their wealth, acting carelessly. He wasn’t quite as professional then as he later became and he made a mistake one night and got arrested. Before he was at the police station, the car had to stop for a group of drunken men. Turned out they were hardly drunken and overpowered the policemen, cuffing them with their own cuffs and leaving them in the street. They took Mac with them and told him he could go free if he did a job for them. He did.’
Alkmene hitched a brow. ‘Original way of enlisting somebody’s services. But what does this have to do with you?’
‘Later when I was undercover with the Accountants, I met Mac. He was suspicious of me, thinking I was not quite what I pretended to be. When he overheard some of the men saying that they distrusted me and wanted to set a trap to get rid of me, he warned me. I was able to escape. I would certainly not have been the first journalist to be found dead in a back alley because of some story he had gotten too close to. Or the last. So I owe Mac my life.’
Jake took a deep breath. ‘What I learned about his character then is that he does steal from people, but he can’t stand violence, especially killing. Warning me meant I would get away with my story and might have exposed them all, including Mac. It was not in his own interest to save me. Still he did. That pushes me now to look beyond the scenario the police have jumped at. It is too easy to just assume Mac killed Lord Winters to get away.’
Alkmene nodded. ‘Makes perfect sense to me. So you have taken up his case? You intend to prove that somebody else did it? That might be quite difficult. I suppose the family is happy enough with the assumption the burglar did it.’
Jake nodded. ‘Yes. For more than one reason.’
Alkmene perked up at his tone. ‘Oh. What can that be?’
Jake halted and faced her squarely. ‘It is more than just a gut feeling, Alkmene. More than a belief in an old friend. I would have taken up his defence just based on my assumption that he would never kill someone, but I have more than that. An actual lead to another person who is probably the killer.’
‘How did you find a lead so fast?’
‘It came from Mac himself. I went to see him in his cell. He told me that he didn’t pick the Winters estate just because he had heard there were diamonds there. He had been alerted to the job, the possibilities. I think one may safely say he had been hired to do it.’
‘What?’ Alkmene leaned over to him. ‘Someone hired your friend to steal those diamonds? And then deliver them to him?’
Jake nodded. ‘And not just anybody. A member of the family.’
Alkmene held her breath.
Jake said, ‘That is why I need you. I have to act fast before the trail turns cold. I need to get inside the Winters household.’
Alkmene held his gaze. She sensed what was going to come. The muscles in her neck pulled tight at the prospect. She had managed to avoid this for a long time. Now all of a sudden she would have to make a new decision about it. A decision that might affect a man’s life. The life of the cat burglar whom Jake called a friend.
Jake said, ‘Mac told me a few things about the Winters family. I was rather surprised to hear that Lord Winters had been married to your mother’s sister.’
‘Half-sister,’ Alkmene corrected quickly. It was a part of her family history she rather preferred not to be reminded of. Her father’s reticence about the subject suggested trouble she’d better stay away from.
She said carefully, ‘They were not on very good terms with each other, if Father is to be believed. Of course it is all a long time ago. My mother died when I was just four years old. After that contact with Mother’s relatives has been rather irregular.’
She didn’t mention that Anne Winters, the only daughter of her late mother’s half-sister, had written to her several times upon the family’s return to England, asking her to come stay with them at the Winters estate. Alkmene had not quite understood why Anne was seeking her out all of a sudden.
Jake asked, ‘And you never felt the need to figure out if the rumours were true? About your mother’s half-sister being murdered by her husband? I can’t imagine that someone with an analytical mind like you would ignore a murder in her own family. You’d have to make sure whether it was just a tale from fanciful people or the truth.’
‘Maybe I ignored it just because it happened in my own family,’ Alkmene said. She hesitated a moment, wondering if it was wise to tell Dubois any more. His jibe about madness in the family had been far from funny. Rumours didn’t just say that Lord Winters had killed his wife, but also that she had acted quite strangely in the months before her death. That she had perhaps suffered from delusions.
And Anne’s last letter, begging her to come out for a few weeks, had sounded rather…strange as well. It had mentioned how the house made her so depressed – like it was sucking life away from her. That sounded quite fanciful.
‘Well,’ Jake said, ‘either way you are related to Lord Winters and since your father is away from home, and you sort of represent him, it would be expected that you’d call on the family to offer your condolences now that Lord Winters has died a violent death. As the estate is quite isolated, you’d have to stay with them for a few days. Else you will just have to invent a headache, a cold, some ache in your back, which will force you to stay for a few days. You have to get into that household and find out what you can about the possible suspects. Especially about George Winters. He hired Mac to steal the stones.’
Alkmene’s eyes went wide at this revelation. George was Anne’s brother, the youngest of two sons. The eldest, Albert, had upon his father’s death inherited the title and the lands.
She had never met any of these people. To call upon them to offer condolences might be appreciated, but a stay would be considered a little unusual. Then again, as Anne had written to her before asking her to come over for a few days, she could justify that she wanted to stay at least until the funeral. That would give her a few days. The opportunity was there for the taking.
But she was torn about it inside. On the one hand she could already feel the excitement of sleuthing again, like she had after poor Silas Norwhich’s supposedly accidental death that had turned out to be murder. The investigation had given a zest to her life that was normally sadly missing.
In this case she might even learn something about the late Lady Winters who had died far away from home. She had been her own mother’s half-sister. And perhaps she owed it to her mother, and the special bond of blood, to look into the matter.
On the other hand that was exactly why she was unsure. These people were family. Distant family perhaps, family she had never met before, people who were no more to her than names without faces, for whom she had little feeling. Still they were family. And now Jake suggested there was a killer among them.
Not to mention the possibility she’d learn her mother’s half-sister had indeed been mad before she died.
A madness that might have been passed on down the line.
To Anne?
Jake said, ‘You need not be afraid that you will be out there alone, in a house with people who could all be involved. I will be with you.’
‘How?’ Alkmene asked.
‘I will…’ Jake had to brace himself apparently to get the next words out. ‘Pose as your driver.’
Alkmene suppressed a burst of laughter. ‘As my driver?’
Jake looked sour. ‘I can hardly pose as your lady’s