Jewel of the Thames (A Portia Adams Adventure) by Angela Misri

pattern I was too proud to question when she did actually stop by. After all, if she thought me mature enough to live on my own, perhaps it was a weakness in me to feel this isolated. I wouldn’t allow for it.
    Another week went by, punctuated by another robbery. Again jewelry was stolen, and again, according to the papers, the foot chase led down toward the river.
    Brian confessed over dinner with his family that the police were at a loss. The items stolen and the times of day varied, as did the location of the robberies. The police believed that there were as many as five thieves working together to commit these crimes, based on the information they would require to both locate the items and to escape time after time.
    “ According to Mr. Holmes, though,” I broke in over the roast, “a conspiracy of more than three is rare, and five would be totally unmanageable because of the basic tenets of criminals: greed and violence.”
    “ I wholeheartedly agree, Miss Adams, and yet the sergeant in charge of the case insists that only a band of criminals could successfully continue to steal and evade capture,” Dawes replied, reaching for the roasted potatoes.
    We all chewed in silence over this. Two I could perhaps see, but four or five? It did not seem likely.
    “One point has not been released to the papers yet,” Brian whispered conspiratorially so that his parents wouldn’t overhear. “At least one of the items, the tiara, has reappeared on the black market — we believe it was sold to a Turkish millionaire. We are talking to the local authorities about it.”
    We both looked at his parents to see if they were listening, but their ears were attuned to the radio playing behind Mr. Dawes senior.
    “Well, that is something, is it not?” I whispered back, turning this new fact over in my head for possible links.
    “ Yes and no. The sergeant had claimed the night that this Fawkes fellow was captured, he had thrown the tiara aside, which is why we found nothing on him. But we had a good six officers down there searching the whole route, even the river, within minutes of his capture, and nothing…”
    I remembered seeing the squad of officers spread out on the bridge and beyond that night, so I nodded. “The question is, if Fawkes is the thief, then how did the tiara he stole that night get from him to a Turkish millionaire—”
    “—without an accomplice?” finished Brian. “There’s the rub. If it wasn’t on him, and he didn’t ditch it, he handed it off. That’s Sergeant Michaels’ theory.
     
    *     *     *
     
    Later that March week I was reminded again of the case when my guardian stopped by with her arms full of fabric.
    “ Gorgeous, are they not?” she exclaimed happily, laying out roll after roll on my paper-covered desk. “Pick one. I will have a fabulous new dress made for you for your birthday in July.”
    I flipped through them. “They are lovely, Mrs. Jones, thank you for thinking of me. But wherever did you get them? I have not seen their like in London or in the States.”
    “Oh, I have my suppliers,” she answered mischievously. “Oh! This blue one matches your eyes, hold this one up.”
    Obliging, I stood in front of the full-length mirror as she draped an azure silk over my shoulder and brushed my dark hair out over it. The silk was well suited to my tall frame and slim build, draping and hanging over me like a waterfall. With her standing behind me in the mirror I could imagine how she had looked at my age and remembered her words about how often she had remarried. She was not as tall as me and had a more womanly figure even at her age, but remarkably her skin was still her most beautiful feature.
    “Have you been following the recent run of jewel heists in London?” I asked, eyeing a new turquoise ring she was sporting. It was striking, a gold band with a flower blossom of four turquoise stone petals all inlaid with silver. Another purchase from her suppliers? Where had I