FOUR
Joaquin is awoken roughly by the cabbie hours later, “Your girl just went inside, if you want to keep on snoring then pay up or you’ll be dumped out.”
Inspector Theodore pushes and pulls at his black hair that had been meticulously styled before knowing that it would go to waste on a long cab ride. “She is not my girl and I don’t snore.”
The cabbie gives him a mocking laugh, “Whateva you say, mate. Now out you get.”
The rumpled Inspector climbs out of the cab trying to rouse himself from sleep. The freezing night air and snow completed that job for him quicker than he thought it ever had before. He pushes through the door of the jewellery shop where he saw Beatrix’s golden dress shimmering inside. Both she and a crookedly bent, white-haired man stood talking together when he entered. They paid him no mind. The man peered down through his enormous glasses at the ring. “Yes… yes. I remember this one, Bea. The design was very difficult to properly obtain, see the threads of silver weaved together to make the band? Engraving the name was quite a task. But the customer insisted upon it.”
“Yes.” Detective Isherwood says, “About the customer; what was their name? Do you remember anything distinct about them?”
“It was nearly five years ago, an old bird like me doesn’t possess quite so much sprite-like vigour as you and your friend here. And who might you be, young man?” He asks, gesturing to Theodore.
“I am Inspector Joaquin Theodore of the England division of the Crescent Inspection Fleet. You must be Frost Isherwood.”
“It would appear so. At least, last I checked.”
“Well, Sir, it’s time we got on with things. Are you able to search out the name of the customer or give us more information on his order? We are on a tight schedule.”
“That schedule mainly consisting of Theodore’s beauty sleep. It’s a little past his bedtime, you see.” Beatrix says into her uncle’s ear, more than loud enough for the indignant Inspector to hear and snort.
Frost chuckled, “I see, I see. Well, you both just come back with me to the workshop and I’ll tell you what I remember while digging out some of the old records.”
They follow him through a thrice-locked door into a room with black, almost blue, velvet walls hung from floor to ceiling with diamonds, sapphires, emeralds and every sort of gem imaginable. Theodore himself gasps at the dazzling room. Frost opens another door, this one hidden in the wall, and pulls from it a file box. “This one is from 1916, the year they were ordered and received.”
“They?” Beatrix says questioningly.
“Yes. There were four rings much like the one you hold in your hand.” He answers, beginning his search through the files. “Lucy, Alvena… oh…” he pauses and scratches the scalp beneath his wild hair, “Kitty… and… what was it?! Ah! Anne, I remember now. All very beautiful rings, the man bought them as gifts I think, very fond of the recipients as is apparent. One of my most expensive orders as well, took me quite a long time to craft them.”
Beatrix snatches a scrap of paper from her uncle’s desk and is now jotting down his words at a furious pace.
Joaquin stares fixedly from the file box as Frost continues to rifle through it with long, dexterous fingers white as his hair.
They wait for some time, but to no avail. Frost then snaps his fingers. “Dear goodness! I brought that paper back to my home. I’ll tell you what, you go on with your investigation and when I find it, I’ll give your home a ring, Inspector.”
Theodore grumbles but Beatrix nudged him, “Thank you, Uncle Frost, that would be most appreciated. How about you give my Uncle your number, Theodore?”
Joaquin continues to mutter something about beauty sleep and old men as he scribbles his telephone number on a notecard he was given by Frost.
They leave the shop at 1:26 in the morning. Beatrix is given a fur coat by her uncle for the winter night. Joaquin is even given one of the old man’s own personal jackets which warmed the Inspector's bones as well as his heart. Even just a little bit of kindness is still something.
The two of them take a long sought-out cab to Kings Cross Train Station. There, they purchase tickets for the station nearest Joaquin’s home and sleep on adjacent benches in the station till their train arrives. The last of the money they had brought with them was spent in the purchasing of the tickets home, and so they buy sandwiches with a little of the money acquired by the selling of the golden cord, from Beatrix’s hair to a wide-eyed passenger.
As they eat quietly, Detective Isherwood sets the ring on Theodore’s knee.
“While we wait for my Uncle to deliver the next clue, let’s see what we can do without it for now.”
His head bobs in agreement, his mouth being full of lettuce, mustard, Swiss cheese and duck meat.
“I think we ought to search out the holder of one of the other rings. If we find them we might be closer to finding the customer that purchased them from my uncle.”
He repeats his head bob.
“How might we go about doing that, I wonder.”
He swallows his mouthful. “One of the owners is bound to have brought their ring in to be cleaned by a jeweller near the area in which your uncle’s shop is located. If we give the surrounding jewellers a call, we may be able to discover at least one of the current holders of a ring.”
They agreed upon this plan of action and were relieved to be nearing home.
Beatrix leaves for her hotel and Theodore returns to his flat.
He had not but just laid down in his bed for a much-needed rest in clothes more comfortable than a tuxedo, when a fist hammers on his door. “Theodore! By Jove! Theodore where are you?!” Demands the gruff voice on the other end of the door.
The covers reluctantly are peeled away to reveal a scowling young man in grey pyjamas. He trudges to the door, recognizing the voice and iron fist of the Vice-Chief. The door opens and the man in the hallway sighs in relief. “Joaquin, there you are. Are you ill? We’ve been ringing your telephone all night long!”
“I’m fine…more or less— what on earth is the matter?! I don’t guess that you’ve all been searching for me to tell me that I was missed at the gala.”
“Heavens! No. Not in a hundred years would your jolly self be missed at a party, Joaquin. There’s been another murder.”
“I see no reason to wake me. Have someone else handle it.”
“You don’t understand. He was another man in our fleet and he was wearing a girl’s ring. It says ‘Kitty’ this time.”
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