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

desk, allowing me a moment to catch my breath.
    “ This is rather specific research,” Brian commented, his smile turning to a frown as he read the titles of the books as he picked each up. “For something at college?”
    “ No, actually — you did say that Fawkes was an assistant undertaker, did you not?” I replied, with a glance at my notes to make sure I had taken down the title of a book before adding it to the stack.
    He looked taken aback but nodded. “So these are helping you to connect Fawkes to the robberies somehow?”
    “He’s an expert in dead bodies,” I responded, “and now I think I have a better idea of just how much he understands, and how that relates to this case.”
    It took us about five minutes to finish stacking books, and then I stepped away to gently revive my very indulgent librarian. We waited for her to lock the library doors and then the two of us escorted her to a horse-drawn hackney. Brian was patient enough to wait until they cantered away before extending his elbow with the words: “Now, Portia Adams, tell me your theories and why it matters that you understand dead bodies as well as our prime suspect does.”
     
     

     
     
     
    Chapter Twelve
     
    I t wasn’t until almost two weeks later, though, that I could finally test my theory with the real perpetrator. Flowers that had been shivering buds in April had burst into colorful bloom in May, and everyone seemed happier for it despite the increase in rain.
    I waited and waited for another burglary, but the pattern seemed finally to be broken, as days went by without any new incidents reported. Perhaps the thief had finally sated his appetite, or perhaps he had moved on from London.
    Every evening I bothered Brian Dawes with the same question, and every day I repeated the process with my professors: had anything else been reported stolen?
    Finally, on a Friday in June, my prayers were answered, at the cost of someone else’s fortune — another robbery.
    Brian, good man that he was, came racing up my steps to deliver the news.
    I answered his knock with a question even before fully opening the door. “Has something been stolen?” I demanded.
    “Yes, miss. Trudy Bennett has reported a stolen necklace,” he answered with a laugh. “ Now will you tell me why you have been waiting for another incident? We had been hoping this spree was over, but you had the opposite hope.”
    I blushed, because it did seem somehow immoral to wait for someone else’s bad fortune in order for me to prove a theory, but I honestly couldn’t contain my excitement. “I will, but only if you arrest Ben Fawkes on Sunday morning, very first thing,” I replied with a grin.
    “Sunday morning?” he replied, understandably confused. “We all believe him to be the man, so if you have new evidence, let us go and arrest him right now, before he has a chance to sell the spoils from his newest heist.”
    I shook my head determinedly as he came into the room, stepping carefully around the papers and plates. “I promise you, if I am right, the latest stolen goods are quite safe until Sunday morning. Will you be reprimanded for arresting him, though?”
    “This is about the theory you came up with at Guy’s Hospital, isn’t it Miss Adams?” he said, waggling a finger at me.
    I nodded as he crouched down beside me and we fleshed out a quick plan right then and there for how to best drop the net and avoid risking Brian’s career. I appreciated again how open he was to my opinion despite my untried hand in this field, looking up at him as he stroked his strong jaw, thinking hard about the details I was describing.
    “What?” he asked as I paused mid-explanation.
    “ Why do you believe me, Mr. Dawes?” I asked, truly curious as to his answer. “Why do you take my opinion so seriously? It is one that is so amateur when compared to the insights around you every day.”
    He moved to a kneeling position, his elbows on his thighs, his brow furrowed,