It was two o’clock when Clara got back to Newcastle. She wished she could have spent longer with Andrew at St Anne’s but she was aware that the York police would not take kindly to her not leaving town at first light as she had given the impression she would. So she had a cup of tea and a Christmas mince pie with him, brought him up to date with her two cases, discussed the Lemington housing purchase, then hit the road north. The weather had thankfully remained calm and no further snow fell on the gritted and cleared roads.
Clara parked the car in the garage behind her house then walked down to her office on Percy Street. She popped in to see Juju and Jonny but they were both busy with customers. So she went upstairs to the office, cranking open the valve on the radiator as soon as she got in. She really should get the Victorian heating updated when she had time.
Still in her coat, hat, scarf and gloves, she sat at her desk and telephoned Stan Ridpath. It had been Andrew’s idea. When she told him about the house at the end of the terrace where she thought she might have seen someone at the window – 10 River View Row, she had noted – Andrew suggested that Stan might be able to find out who now owned the house via the York Land Registry Office. Stan said he would make enquiries but as it was Christmas Eve, he could not promise an answer before the new year. However, he’d do his best. He knew someone who knew someone who knew someone … He then told Clara that he had formally started the process of buying the Lemington houses, but that too would be on hold for the holidays.
‘Do you have anywhere to go for Christmas Day, Clara?’ he asked. ‘If not, you’re most welcome to have dinner with us. I can pick you up after church, if you like. The children would love to see you.’
‘Thank you, Stan, that is very kind of you. But I do have plans. Please send my regards to Edith and the children. And wish them happy Christmas. Tell them Uncle Andrew sends his love too.’
As Clara put down the telephone she had a twinge of guilt that she had lied to Stan. She had no plans for Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. Her Jewish friends Juju and Jonny would not be celebrating. Her only other close friend was Andrew. But she didn’t mind. It was kind of Stan to offer but she was actually looking forward to a few days alone. She was exhausted after her trip and would welcome some time to relax. Any idea she’d previously had of doing some decorating between Christmas and New Year was now abandoned; she had a case to solve. She would use Christmas Day to go through her notes, develop the photographs of the fingerprints she’d taken in York and consider a way forward.
With the ambient temperature in the office still not much above freezing, she decided to take her work home with her. But as she was about to lock up, there was a knock on the door. She opened it to the friendly face of Bella Cuddy.
‘Bella!’
‘Hello, Miss Vale. Glad you’re finally back! I’ve got a lot to tell you – it’s all go at Fenwick’s!’
Clara shivered, then gave a resigned smile. ‘Let me put the kettle on.’
Bella, despite having the robust constitution of a native Geordie, kept her coat on. The two women warmed their hands around mugs of hot tea while Bella gave Clara a report about developments at Fenwick’s.
‘So I went into work on Monday morning and after our talk on Saturday about Howie Best, I kept an eye on him. And sure enough he made a move on one of the lasses. It was Doreen. She was supposed to be covering the millinery department while I was watching lingerie. But Howie was pestering her. She’s told me he’s done it before. I can’t prove it, but I think she might have given in to him. Or gone further than she should have. And I think he might have been threatening to tell her mam and dad. She’s a young lass, is Doreen. So when I saw what was happening, him sniffing around her like she was a bitch on heat, and her not looking happy about it, I was going to intervene and show him some more of my jiu-jitsu moves.
‘But then he whispered something to her and she went with him into a back room. I was going to follow them when I remembered what you’d said about him possibly distracting the undercover shop detectives so an accomplice could come in and steal stuff. So I watched. And sure enough, someone did come in. And I knew exactly who it was. It was Howie’s missus! I’d met her at the work Christmas party last week. Bold as brass, she was. She came in, tried on a hat – an expensive one with velvet and feathers – and walked straight out with it! Howie should have been on the door and he wasn’t. Doreen should have been watching the floor and she wasn’t. So, Miss Vale, I think you’re right: it’s Howie who’s behind the thefts. And his missus. How she can put up with his philandering I have no idea. But as they say, miss, there’s nowt so queer as folk.’
Clara smiled. She’d never heard that expression before, but she understood exactly what it meant. ‘Excellent work, Bella! I knew you were the right woman for the job.’
Bella beamed.
‘Did you speak to Doreen afterwards?’ asked Clara.
‘Aye, miss, I tried to, but she was all tearful and said she had nowt to say to me. It took all me self-control not to go and tan Howie Best’s arse! If you’ll excuse the language, miss.’
Clara chuckled. ‘Not at all, Bella. I’d be tempted to tan his arse too. Bravo, Bella! I think we may have cracked this case and we can report back to Mr Carlton.’ She took out a pen and paper. ‘But first I’ll need to write it all down.’
‘No need, miss, I’ve written a full report meself.’ Bella pulled out a sheaf of paper from her handbag. Clara took it and perused the contents. Bella had a juvenile hand, like she was still in infant school, but the contents were mature and precise.
Clara smiled approvingly at Bella. ‘This is just what we need. Now we can go to Mr Carlton and present him with the evidence.’
‘We, miss?’
‘Yes, we. You are the one who saw this all happen. Mr Carlton will want to question you about it. But don’t worry, I’ll be with you the whole time.’
Bella shook her head, firmly. ‘No, Miss Vale, I can’t do that. If it comes out with the other lasses that I grassed on them, I’ll not be able to work with them again. And then I’ll not have a job. It might not be much, miss, but it pays. And I need the money. I’m the only one in me family with an income.’
Clara pursed her lips then sipped her tea. ‘I’m sorry, Bella, I hadn’t thought of that. What should we do then? I can present this to Mr Carlton without you, but he’ll want to know who the witness was. And quite clearly it wasn’t me, and I can’t say that it was. And if this goes to court, the judge will want to know who the witness was too. Or else there won’t be sufficient evidence to convict.’
Bella nodded, looking miserable. ‘Aye, I know, miss. But I need the job.’
Clara leaned forward encouragingly. ‘Mr Carlton won’t dismiss you. He’ll promote you!’
Bella’s enthusiasm did not rise. ‘Aye, he might,’ she said flatly. ‘But Mr Carlton was not the one who hired me. It was Mr Danskin. Mr Danskin hired us all on behalf of Mr Carlton.’
‘Did he now?’ asked Clara, her mind ticking over. ‘And did Mr Danskin hire the male security guards too?’
‘Aye, he did.’
‘Interesting, very interesting.’ Clara wondered why she had never thought of this before. But what if Jack Danskin was ultimately behind the thefts? That he was running some kind of network like Fagin in Dickens’s Oliver Twist. She had previously dismissed the idea when Mr Carlton had told her that Danskin was involved in training the security teams at other big stores in the region and that Fenwick’s, Newcastle, was the only one to have problems with this kind of theft. But what if it was only Fenwick’s where Danskin had set this up? He was a clever man. He would have known that if it was in every shop where he was involved in security training, he would be the obvious common denominator. Why then did she suspect him? Was it simply because she still held a grudge against him because of how he tried to scupper her first case and malign her uncle’s name after he died?
Yes, very probably. She was no doubt just being prejudiced. Nonetheless, she couldn’t get the suspicion out of her mind. She would, though, need solid evidence before bringing it up. For now, the only evidence she – and Bella – had was against Howie Best and his wife. If Danskin was involved, then that would come out when Howie was questioned. And for that, she needed to make sure that Bella was willing to testify against him.
‘I don’t think Mr Danskin could fire you if Mr Carlton was on your side, Bella. And I’ll make sure Mr Carlton is on your side.’
Bella nodded, but still didn’t look convinced. ‘Thank you, miss, I know you will, but the lasses will still make me life hell. I know they will. They’ll be ashamed aboot what comes oot. And they’ll be angry with me for doing it. I’ll have to get another job. And there’s not much going roond here.’
Clara sighed. She understood. And regretted the predicament she’d put Bella in. But then, suddenly, she had an idea. ‘Bella, how would you feel if you knew you definitely had another job to go to? One that paid better? One that you were better suited to than the one at Fenwick’s? One that Mr Danskin has no say over?’
Bella raised her eyes to Clara’s with a tinge of expectation. ‘Is there a job like that?’
‘There might be. If there was, would you be willing to testify to Mr Carlton? And make sure the pig Howie Best has his comeuppance?’
Bella nodded firmly. ‘Aye, miss, I would.’
Clara smiled. ‘Then I would like to offer you that job, Bella. It’s become clear that I need an assistant. Someone to man – or woman – the office when I’m away and to do investigations where a posh lady like me would stand out like a sore thumb. I think you’re that person, Bella Cuddy. You’ve got good investigative skills, you show meticulous attention to detail as I can see from the report you wrote up, you can handle yourself in a scrap, as I can testify from sparring with you the other night, and, well, to be perfectly frank, I like you. I think we’d work well together – if you’re willing to give it a go. Would you like to work for me, Bella?’
Bella’s eyes widened like a child on Christmas morning. ‘Oh aye, miss, I would. I’d like that very much. As long as …’ Her voice trailed off.
‘As long as what?’
‘Sorry, miss, but as long as the price is right.’
Clara threw back her head and laughed. ‘Oh I’m sure we can come to a mutually satisfactory arrangement.’