“It is the only spare room in the house,” Ben reasoned quietly. “I know it isn’t great but there isn’t anywhere else for her to sleep unless she takes the scullery, but I am in there.”
Marcus eyed the myriad pots positioned around the room and felt a sinking sensation deep in the pit of his stomach as he turned to look up at the ceiling. Unsurprisingly, he looked straight into the rafters of the roof. Several tiles on the roof had become loose and created a leak that ensured a steady drip, drip, drip, of rainwater fell into the room even when it wasn’t raining. The walls hadn’t been painted for nigh on a century, and the curtains were moth-eaten and threadbare. So much so that Marcus doubted they could even meet in the middle, let alone protect the room from sunlight. The shutters were practically non-existent, and the furniture was so well-used that it was a miracle it was still standing up.
All of that paled into insignificance, though, when his eyes landed on the sagging mattress of the uneven bed. Although Jess had tried her hardest to brighten the room up with a throw and a colourful rug, it was a far cry from the furnishings she provided for the guests’ use.
“Come on, let’s search,” he sighed.
Ben looked at him. “What are we looking for?”
Marcus thought about that. “We are looking for anything that looks out of the ordinary. If you find any jewels don’t touch them, just tell me.”
When Ben continued to stare at him, Marcus told him about how he came to be in Smothey.
Ben’s face grew harder as he listened until he was thoughtfully nodding by the time Marcus lapsed into silence.
“Well, let’s get to it,” Ben suggested, and began to roll his sleeves up.
The silence lengthened between them while they searched every nook and cranny within the room.
“Marcus.”
The change in Ben’s voice warned Marcus that he had found something. This time, when Ben put his findings on the floor for them both to see, it was Marcus who stared in horror.
“What are they?” Ben whispered.
“Some of them are uncut diamonds,” Marcus told him.
He took a few minutes to poke through them and separate them into piles.
“These coloured ones are gems that have been cut and polished. They are incredibly expensive,” he explained.
Ben counted the money. “There is fifty pounds here, Marcus.”
“I think these are mother of pearls, and this-” he shook his head. He didn’t need to explain to Ben what the wicked-looking knife was.
“Protection,” Ben whispered.
“I think it is more of a threat to anyone who finds this package,” Marcus mused.
“Who are you?”
“You know who I am, Ben,” Marcus warned him. “It is who the owner of this lot we need to consider. The man who has collected this little hoard has a network that goes far and wide. He ventures into all sorts of crime; murder, thefts, pick-pocketing, blackmail, burglary, you name it. Sayers has either done it himself, ordered someone to do it, or knows someone who has been arrested and has served a sentence for doing it.”
“This Sayers’ person?” Ben whispered worriedly. “Is he likely to be here?”
“I am not saying he is, you understand? But these are all of his hallmarks. The carefully placed items in the rooms are a trap. What I don’t understand is why the gems in the other room are not with these.”
“Do you think they are going to work on them next or something? What does someone do with these?” Ben asked as he poked around in the pile.
“The porcelains could be forged. I am not altogether sure. The uncut diamonds are a find and are worth a veritable fortune. They can be cut and inserted into any piece of jewellery, and nobody would ever know they had been stolen. These gems are rubies, emeralds, and topaz. These can be resized, ground down, and reshaped to fit new pieces of jewellery. There is no proof they have been stolen once they have been recut,” Marcus explained.
“But what are they put into?” Ben asked. “These are all gems. There are no pieces of jewellery for them to go into.”
Marcus thought about that. “I need to take a look inside Mr Grant’s house. I think that may be the workplace. They need this accommodation to support their pretence that they are ordinary, decent people.”
“But how can they explain the fact that they keep going into Mr Grant’s house, and Mr Grant has vanished?”
Marcus looked at him. “Did you know that Mr Grant had vanished before I told you?”