Sherlock Holmes and The Other Woman (6 page)

“You are concerned, Mr Holmes,” the rabbi said. “Do you think my people might be in danger?”

I hesitated, torn between honesty and fear of causing alarm.

The rabbi seemed to read my indecision for he patted my arm and said, “Please just tell us, Mr Holmes. The Holy One, blessed be He, has sent you for our protection.”

“I've never seen myself in that light,” I said. “But if you insist, Rabbi, I shall tell you.

“This fellow claims to know something about gemstones. He told someone that he was going to be rich. He said he knew where there was treasure and there would be no harm in taking it because they ‘were no Christians' who hoarded it.”

“
Mein Gott
,” the rabbi said.

“He may, of course, have meant that he knew of some scoundrels who had something of value that he might steal, but I cannot rule out the possibility that he meant it literally.”

Another conversation ensued, again in Yiddish, and this one was considerably longer. As it wound to a close, Glaser summarised:

“There are merchants and jewellers throughout this area and they are all vulnerable. Mordechai and the rabbi are men of influence; they will alert the others to be on particular guard. I have two constables and I've agreed to double the frequency of their patrols for the moment.”

“Those are sensible precautions,” I said. “Tell me, what sort of security is in place for the merchants? I observed the bolts on the door and the bars on the windows, but is there more?”

Schwartz said nothing. The rabbi leaned to him and said, “Come, Mordechai, Mr Holmes wishes to help us. We should be grateful.”

“A
goy
?” Schwartz gave me a look that was neither grateful nor friendly.

Glaser explained, “A ‘goy' is someone who isn't Jewish.” Then, “You shame us with your suspicions, Mordechai. Who hasn't heard of Mr Holmes's reputation? Why he is as renowned for his integrity as for his wisdom.”

“I understand
Reb
Schwartz's reluctance to trust a stranger,” I said. “You need reveal no secrets. However, I would ask that you check all your locks and windows. I would go so far as to say check your roofs, your walls, and the walls of your neighbours. Who knows how this fellow plans to gain entry?”

“Your advice is very sound, Mr Holmes,” Solberg said. “We shall do exactly as you suggest. And we shall certainly keep watch for this fair man with a dark heart. How do we get in touch with you if we spot him?”

The rabbi snorted with laughter. “Ah, Daniel, Mr Holmes's address is as famous as he is. 221B Baker Street. Please let Doctor Watson know I really like his stories. And you must feel free to visit us again, Mr Holmes. Ah, it is a shame you are not a Jew. What a Talmudic scholar you'd have made.”

After leaving Hatton Garden, I returned to Camden Town. For some moments, I stood on the steps of the Prentiss home and stared at the park, the houses beyond, and the streetlamp. This was where my sense of unease began during my first visit. The same doubts recurred and I felt, feel, more certain than ever that something far more insidious than a tawdry romance is at the heart of it.

At last, I knocked on the door and Agnes opened it.

“Oh, it's you, Mr Holmes,” she said, forcing her annoyance into a smile. “Do come in. I'll let Mrs Prentiss know you're here.”

After a moment, Agnes showed me into the study where the mistress of the house was sewing up a pair of boy's trousers.

“Ah, Mr Holmes,” she said, attempting to rise. I gestured for her to remain seated.

“Please, you will undo all your work,” I said.

“I'm afraid you are right. Do please take a seat, Mr Holmes. Agnes, will you bring us some coffee?”

“Not for me, thank you,” I said.

“So,” said the woman once the maid left us. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to follow up with you. Tell me, how are things?”

“Not too bad,” she said, but the strain on her face belied her words.

“I understand Miss Kidwell came to see you.”

“Yes, she wanted her job back. I had to say no. It was a hard thing to do. One doesn't wish to be unchristian, and she was with us a long time. The children were fond of her. Still, she utterly betrayed my trust and I had no choice.”

“None at all,” I agreed.

She tried to smile but could not manage it. “I really dislike all these domestic trials. I should much prefer to focus on my work. There are days, Mr Holmes, when I truly envy my husband, or indeed, any man who gets to leave the house and need not worry about things like laundry or keeping the chimney clean. There, I am just feeling sorry for myself and, after all, it's much harder on Agnes. She's had to pick up the brunt of the chores and she's not as young as she was. She doesn't complain, but I would be heartless indeed not to notice the strain it has had.”

“You have started interviewing for a new maid?”

“Yes, but I confess my experience with Connie has made me very suspicious. It's no easy thing, Mr Holmes, to open one's home to a complete stranger and trust so many intimate details of one's life to them.”

“I understand.” I thought about it for a moment and said, “Would you like me to ask Doctor Watson if he knows anyone who might suit? It would ease your mind, I think, if you could employ someone who came with a personal recommendation.”

“Oh, that would be very kind,” she said. For the first time since I arrived she looked animated. “Yes, that would be a very great help. Thank you, Mr Holmes. What a wonderful idea.”

“I take it your husband is away?”

“Only for the morning. He changed his schedule so he can be at home for a few days while I get the domestic matters sorted. He took the children to the zoo, bless him, so Agnes and I can get caught up.”

“He is an admirable man,” I said. Though in hindsight why should I say so of a man merely because he's willing to spend a few hours with his own children?

“I wonder if I might go down to the cellar,” I said.”I would like to make sure it is adequately secure so you will have no further disturbances.”

“Of course. But really, Mr Holmes, surely there's no reason for that dreadful man to return, not now that Connie has gone.”

“Indulge me, if you will, Mrs Prentiss. I feel I must be thorough if only for your father's sake.”

“Then by all means, Mr Holmes.”

“No, you need not accompany me. I can find the way on my own by now. Please, continue with your work.”

There were no signs the mysterious Avery Rickman had returned to the Camden Town house since my last visit. The small precautions I had taken - a hair that would snap if the door were opened; a pan of water on the chair beneath the window - all remained intact. Was it mere happenstance that the intruder had not appeared during that period? During my last visit, I concluded that Connie Kidwell was keeping Rickman up to date on all the happenings within the house. Upon reflection, however, I suspect he was not dependent upon Connie alone for his information.

I set my safeguards back in place and climbed the steep steps to the ground floor. I carefully locked the cellar door behind me and placed a chair with its back beneath the handle. Of course, that served only to ensure that no one would enter the house via the cellar, at least, not without considerable difficulty. On the other hand, a desperate man would not let that stop him and he would be as likely to gain entry by another way.

The house was quiet with all the children away. There were sounds and aromas of cooking emanating from the kitchen and the odd sound of passers-by outside, but otherwise all was still.

I went out into the back garden. There was no question that Rickman had gained entry to the house via the basement, but why? Why get in that way? Surely he need only wait in the park and watch for the light to go out in Mrs Prentiss's study. She said she uses a lamp and ambient light; therefore, she keeps the curtains open while she works. Why wouldn't Rickman simply wait and then stand by the front door for Kidwell to open it as soon as she deemed it was safe? No, he made a production of climbing in through the basement window. Was it merely to add to the sense of mystery and excitement? But the basement is unwholesome; the back garden enclosed by six-foot-high walls. Even a tall man must strain to climb over them, particularly in inclement weather. Is Rickman mentally ill? Could it really be so simple?

What have I missed? Something. Something.

Think, man. Start again. What do I know?

Well, the garden is small and abuts onto that of the house to the rear. The house is part of a terraced set of buildings. To the front, the building is overlooked by other homes that surround the so-called Square. The Square itself, at least at this time of day, is lively with children, dogs, cats, trades people, nannies and Lord knows what else. It is deserted at night, of course, but there is always a chance of being observed.

Perhaps I am looking for something that is not there. Well, if the fellow does not return I can reasonably assume that his only interest was in Kidwell. However, if he does come back...

For over an hour, I examined every window and door in the building. I ascertained that both front and back doors have a bolt, though the one at the front door is at the top and difficult for anyone but a tall man to reach. The windows are of the sash variety and offer little in the way of security.

I had just finished when George Prentiss returned with his children.

“Mr Holmes,” said he, shaking my hand. “I am delighted to meet you. Alice told me what a help you have been. That Connie was a bad lot, eh? Letting all and sundry into the house while my wife and children slept in their beds. Goodness knows what might have happened without your intervention.”

“I am glad to be of service, Mr Prentiss,” I said. “I should like to talk to you about this matter in more detail. Can you spare me half an hour?”

“By all means,” he said. “Agnes, bring us some coffee. It's fierce cold outside. Not a day for the zoo really, but at least it entertained the children.”

We sat in the parlour alone while their mother took the children upstairs. As soon as the coffee was served and the maid had left, I began to share my analysis of the events.

“We are still trying to trace this fellow Connie Kidwell was seeing, but it appears he was using a false name. The address he gave her does not exist.”

“Scoundrel,” Prentiss said. “Some men are utter cads. I am very sorry for the girl, but she made her bed.”

“Indeed. I confess, Mr Prentiss, I cannot rule out the possibility that Rickman was merely using her to gain access to your house.”

“Good God! But why? To what end?”

“Why, indeed. I understand you have no valuables on the premises?”

“Nothing but some jewellery but even that is of very little value. There are houses in the square that are far richer than ours. We are not wealthy people.”

“What about the documents your wife translates?”

“Very ordinary things, so far as I know. Letters and so forth from the Brahms Antiquities, pretty dull stuff to my mind, though she seems to enjoy it. Alice also translates documents for individuals from time to time, but nothing out of the way. She would have told you, I am sure, if she had found anything unusual.”

“She denies seeing anything of the sort. Still, it is possible she did not realise the significance of something.”

“But this man, Rickman, has been coming into the house for weeks. Alice works rather quickly. It only takes her a few days to translate a box of papers and then she returns all the documents to the company or the owners.”

“Yes, that is what she told me. And yet there must be some reason why this fellow should take such risks as to come into your home with such frequency.”

“Could it not be as Connie said? Merely to...? Well, you know what I mean.”

“Yes, it is possible. Still, I am uneasy, I confess. Why the subterfuge? Why take such elaborate precautions against being seen?

“Rickman, or whatever his name is, deceived Connie about his name and his address. He obviously had the run of this house and I believe made several attempts to gain access to your wife's study, seems to suggest a motive other than copulation.”

“He tried to access my wife's study?”

“There are faint scratches around the lock. Initially I thought it was because your wife was very tired when she finished her work for the night and so sometimes missed the lock. However, I cannot rule out the possibility that Rickman was trying to gain access to the room.”

“Good God!”

“Your wife would know if any of her documents had been moved, so I infer he was unsuccessful in his attempts to gain access. I suspect Kidwell did not give him much time to make these attempts.”

He flushed and sipped his coffee. “Yes, I see what you mean.”

I gave him a moment to consider what I told him. He seemed bright enough to see the implications and the more he thought the more anxious he became. “Mr Holmes,” he said. “As you know, I am gone from home for long periods. Is my family in any danger?”

“I have been examining the security of the house,” I said. “I have taken pains to secure the basement, and the back door is safe enough with its lock and the deadbolt. However, the bolt on the front door is high and it is quite stiff. I assume your wife does not use it when you are not here?”

“No, she can't reach it, nor can Agnes.”

“I would recommend in the strongest terms that you get another bolt placed on the bottom of the door. You should also purchase stronger locks for the windows.”

“I shall,” he said. “I shall do everything you ask, Mr Holmes, and at once. Is there anything else you would suggest?”

“Yes, I wonder, would it be possible for you to take your family away for a few days and leave the house empty?”

“Empty?” He stared at me, bewildered.