Thwarting her attackers . . .
They tried to pull me into the alley, but a hard stomp on a foot and a bite on a hand let me escape to dash toward the street, holding up the fabric of my ripped skirt. A carriage pulled up, the horses reined in before I collided with them. The Duke of Blackford jumped out. My savior, or reinforcements for my attackers?
I started to dash down the sidewalk, but strong arms grabbed me around the middle, wrapping my cloak tightly around me. I kicked out and hit my pursuer by driving the back of my head into his nose. He let go and I ran. Behind me, I heard grunts and thuds, wood against metal, wood against bone.
I glanced back to see the duke thrash one figure with his cane. As my other attacker rose from the ground, he was pummeled down again. I’d have to pass the fight to return to the safety of Lady Westover’s. Too dangerous. I rushed away from the fracas.
Horses whinnied and coach wheels creaked, but no footsteps pursued me. I slowed my pace to a brisk walk, staying as far from the street as I could as I approached the corner. Looking over my shoulder, I saw two figures prone on the ground behind me and a large carriage with four horses nearly at my side.
“Miss Fenchurch.”
I picked up speed. So did the horses, pulling past me.
The duke’s familiar baritone came from the coach. “Wait, Miss Fenchurch. I’m trying to rescue you.”
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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Copyright © 2013 by Kate Parker.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-10161735-9 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Parker, Kate, 1949–
The vanishing thief / Kate Parker.—Berkley Prime Crime trade paperback edition.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-425-26660-1 (pbk.)
1. Booksellers and bookselling—Fiction. 2. Women private investigators—Fiction. 3. Kidnapping—Investigation—Fiction. 4. Parents—Death—Fiction. 5. Cold cases (Criminal investigation)—Fiction. 6. London (England)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3616.A74525V36 2013
813'.6—dc23
2013027648
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime trade paperback edition / December 2013
Cover illustration by Teresa Fasolino.
Cover design by George Long.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
Contents
Preface
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
This book is dedicated to my mother because she said I had to.
Mothers are frequently right.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
No one creates a story that reaches publication without a great deal of help, and I’ve been blessed with wonderfully talented, supportive people on this journey. Lara Otis, a librarian at the University of Maryland Libraries, provided me with excellent Victorian-era sources on antiquarian books and their preservation. My daughter, Jennifer, who’s always up for a research trip, introduced me to the Linley Sambourne house and other wonders of Victorian London.
Critique partners Hannah Meredith, Nancy Bacon, Gail Hart, and Peggy Parsons have spent years helping me hone the craft of writing. My agent, Jill Marsal of Marsal-Lyons Literary Agency, found the spark in this novel and helped me create a work worthy to be published. My editor, Faith Black, and the unknown artists and copyeditors at Berkley Prime Crime have taken my work a step further to create a book I am so proud to share with the world.
I thank them all. But most of all, I have to thank my husband. Even as he kept telling me to try something different in my writing and to add more bodies, he always believed the day would come when I’d be published and readers would discover my stories.
While the rest of the story is based on solid late-Victorian sources, I willfully threw out everything learned in seven semesters of college chemistry to create amylnitrohydrated sulfate and the fictitious Royal Society. These were created to honor the spirit of Victorian scientific research and the single-minded quests of so many now-famous Victorians. Any other errors, technical or otherwise, are my own.
Chapter One
EARLY spring rain drenched London in a cold damp that either kept customers away or drove them into the bookshop. Today the rain was in our favor. We had three browsers searching the shelves when a woman barreled in, flinging droplets in the musty air and onto the wooden floor. “The Duke of Blackford kidnapped Nicholas Drake and you must save him.”
My assistant, Emma, looked up from the recent arrivals she was discussing with a female customer and said, “Is that a new novel?”
The woman planted thin fists on her hips, shoving back her cloak and displaying a green dress faded to the shade of mushy peas. “No. I’m demanding the Archivist Society do something to free Nicholas Drake from the Duke of Blackford.”
All three customers stared at her, mouths agape. The Archivist Society unfortunately appeared in the penny press occasionally, earning us a notoriety we didn’t desire.
I didn’t want my customers to learn Emma and I worked for the Archivist Society. Respectable women didn’t court notoriety. Even the old queen kept her activities private. And our work required secrecy.