At least one of the chief inspector’s assumptions was confirmed a little later when Billy Styles with Grace in tow returned from their visit to Solly Silverman’s shop in Holborn. The two detectives had been waiting there when Silverman’s sole employee, a middle-aged woman named Mrs Delgado, arrived to open the store.
‘She went to pieces when she heard what had happened, sir,’ Billy told him. ‘It was genuine shock. And when we told her what Solly had been up to in his wicked past she threw another fit. I don’t think she had the first idea what sort of bloke he was. Or had been. Mind you, if we’re right about him and he’s been straight since before the war, that would make sense. She’s only worked there for the past two years.’
Their experience the night before had left its mark on both detectives, whose drawn faces showed signs of fatigue and lack of sleep, and Sinclair had Poole bring in an extra chair from next door so that they could sit down and then ordered the young officer to remain while they made their report.
Once she’d collected herself, Billy told him, Silverman’s employee had proved to be a good witness with a memory for details. She had confirmed Alfie Meeks’s visit four days earlier — he had used his own name — and recalled that he’d asked to see Silverman ‘on a matter of business’.
‘According to her, Solly used to spend most of the day in his office at the back of the shop. He’d only appear if he was needed. When she told him about Meeks wanting to see him he took a look at Alfie through his peephole and instructed her to get rid of him.’
‘Do you think Silverman recognized him?’ Sinclair asked.
‘I doubt it, sir. Alfie Meeks wasn’t in his league: I’d be surprised if their paths ever crossed. But he probably spotted him for what he was and didn’t want him on the premises. Anyway, Mrs Delgado went back with the message, but instead of shoving off Alfie produced a small velvet box — the kind you keep a piece of jewellery in — and asked her to show it to Silverman. Said if he still wasn’t interested he’d leave. So she did that, went back into the office and gave it to Solly, who told her to wait outside.’
Billy grinned. ‘I don’t know what was in the box — Mrs Delgado says she didn’t look — but whatever it was it made Solly change his mind. He had her send Meeks in and they spent the next twenty minutes together, and when Alfie left, Mrs Delgado said he was looking pleased with himself. Like a cat that had swallowed a canary was how she put it.’
‘So …’ Sinclair sat back in his chair, fingers laced across his stomach. ‘It looks as though Meeks had a piece of jewellery to show Solly. Something calculated to capture his interest. But there must have been more to it than that.’ He looked for confirmation to Billy, who nodded.
‘That’s what we thought. Meeks must have been showing him a sample of the goods on offer. Then Grace had an idea …’ He turned to his colleague, who’d been sitting silent in his chair beside him. ‘Go ahead, Joe. Show the chief inspector what you’ve come up with.’
With seeming reluctance, Grace gathered himself. Never one to seek the approval of others, his harsh manner had antagonized many over the years and promotion had been slow in coming. But none questioned his sharpness, and Billy was among those who had learned to turn a blind eye to those traits of his personality, including a sheer bloody-mindedness, which had made him a burden to many of his superiors.
‘It was something I found in Solly’s wallet last night, sir.’ Grace spoke gruffly. ‘It didn’t mean much at the time. Just some sort of list with figures and letters. But after what we heard at the shop today it gave me an idea, and Mr Styles and I went by forensic to collect it on our way here.’
He passed a folded sheet of paper across the desk to Sinclair, getting to his feet as he did so.
‘We reckon it’s a list of jewels. Stones. Diamonds, maybe.’
Grace twisted his head to squint at the paper upside down as the chief inspector unfolded it and Sinclair beckoned him round the desk.
‘Show me what you mean,’ he said.
‘There’s a column of numbers — ’Grace pointed — ‘with ct after each, which must be carats, and then some other stuff, letters that don’t make much sense, but might be descriptions of the stones.’
He bent over Sinclair’s shoulder as the latter emitted a humming sound, his eye running up and down the neatly penned column.
‘Eight, ten, twelve … there’s one of twenty-five carats at the end of the list. That’s a fair-sized stone.’ The chief inspector grunted. ‘A score in all. If they’re good-quality diamonds they’d be worth a pretty penny. So you think this is what brought Solly down to Wapping with his loupe in his pocket?’
‘It looks that way, sir,’ Grace agreed, with a glance across the desk at Billy, who was sitting back, allowing him his moment of glory. ‘Meeks must have given him these details when they met. Solly could have copied them down.’
‘No, no …’ Sinclair tapped the piece of paper which lay flat on his blotter. ‘This wasn’t penned by Silverman. The ink’s old for one thing and the numbers are continental. Do you see that seven — it’s crossed? And the ones have a little loop on top. That’s not how we make them. The paper’s expensive, too … prewar, I’d say.’ He turned in his chair and held it up to the light. ‘I can see a watermark. I’ll hang on to this. I’ve a friend in Bond Street who’ll decipher those letters for us. And we’d better let the lab have a look at it, too.’
While he was speaking, Grace had returned to his chair, and the two detectives waited while their superior sat ruminating; gnawing at his lip.
‘We’re on to something.’ Sinclair spoke at last. ‘Just what, I’m not sure. Was this man actually in possession of these stones, or was he spinning Solly a line? And how did he get hold of this list?’
‘He must have had one stone at least,’ Billy suggested. ‘The one Meeks showed Solly.’
‘One which must have been on this list.’ The chief inspector weighed the piece of paper in his hand. ‘And that tells us, too, how Solly Silverman was lured down there. If these stones were stolen in Europe they wouldn’t necessarily be on the lists we’ve circulated, and that might have been enough to tempt him back into business.’
His glance fell on Lily Poole, who’d been standing all this time behind the two men, wordless, but with a rapt expression on her face.
‘How far have you got in your researches, Constable?’ he asked her.
‘Up to 1933, sir.’
‘Jewel thefts. What about them? Has anything caught your eye?’
‘Not really, sir.’ Lily Poole frowned. ‘Quite a few were reported, but the IPC messages don’t say much about them. They just give details of the stuff that was stolen and ask member countries to keep an eye out for it.’
‘But those would be pieces of jewellery, wouldn’t they? Not individual stones like those on this list?’
Poole nodded.
‘No matter. Stick to it. We’re looking for a jewel thief all right, but one who may be a little different from the general run. Keep that in mind.’
Not wishing to leave his superior in the dark a second time, Sinclair paid a further call on Bennett in the late afternoon.
‘I thought with the weekend nearly on us I’d better bring you up to date, sir,’ he said as he took his accustomed seat in front of Sir Wilfred’s desk. Outside, the early darkness of winter had already set in and the assistant commissioner’s windows, like his own, were blackened by blinds. ‘All in all, it hasn’t been a bad day. We’ve made some progress.’
The information acquired that morning at Silverman’s jewellery store made up the bulk of the chief inspector’s account, but there were other items to relate and he wasted no time in imparting them to his superior.
‘The post-mortems have been done. Ransom sent his report over. The bullets he retrieved from the bodies were all thirty-twos, as you might expect. There’s no way of telling what make of pistol was used, nor whether it belonged to this man or was acquired locally. The country’s awash with unlicensed firearms at present thanks to the war.’