HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Usually we do a big introduction here, but there's no introduction big enough, no words ground enough, no fanfare loud enough to do this justice.
All Rise!
Reds and Readers, I present to you the fabulous inimitable iconic life-changingly brilliant Laurie R. King.
The Case of the Empty Safe
by Laurie R. King
Diamonds and rubies and emeralds, nestled into a weight of gold and silver and sparkling enamel: the “Irish Crown Jewels” were slabs of ceremonial bling showy enough for a modern rapper.
Diamonds and rubies and emeralds, nestled into a weight of gold and silver and sparkling enamel: the “Irish Crown Jewels” were slabs of ceremonial bling showy enough for a modern rapper.
Presented to Ireland by William IV as a sign that their Order of St Patrick would henceforth be the equal of the English and Scottish Orders of Garter and Thistle, the Regalia—Star, Badge, and Collars—were worn for high formal occasions such as investitures.
They were kept in a modern safe in an impregnable castle—a safe with only two keys, both in the hands of the senior Irish herald and chief genealogist, Arthur Vicars. Who, in June, 1907, was thrilled by the upcoming visit of King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra, the high point of which (so far as Vicars was concerned) would be a grand ceremonial investiture, of which he was in charge. Four days before the King’s arrival, Vicars—a busy man—handed his key and a ceremonial collar to an assistant, telling him to lock it in the safe with the other spectacular bits of Regalia.
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| Plenty of Bling! |
But when the man went to turn the key, he found the lock already open. The Jewels were gone.
They were never recovered.
No arrest was ever made.
117 years later, a woman who makes her living writing unlikely mystery stories went looking for a nice, entertaining crime. Her protagonist, Mary Russell, had long ago mentioned a charming but criminal uncle—a rogue, rather than a hard villain—and considering the state of the world, the writer decided that a black sheep was just the ideal company for what looked to be a difficult year.
Now, the writer could have invented a crime out of whole cloth—we writers do lie for a living, after all—but there was something about this particular bit of early 20th century history that had caught her imagination. And the crime was definitely something that a gifted con-man might have got himself involved with.
Besides, I didn’t have to get on a plane to do the research, since I’d been to Ireland a couple of times before.
Hence: Mary Russell meets the Theft of the Irish Crown Jewels. The 1907 true-life crime had everything: mystery, money, outraged royals, shocking scandal, the famous and the infamous. It was in Russell’s past (the series is currently in 1925) but not necessarily in the past of her husband and partner, Sherlock Holmes. The main problem was, researching the details led me into a story that was so wild, with so many bizarre twists, that I began to wonder if my own fictional elements would get lost amidst the magnificent complexity.
However, after eighteen books, I trust my characters to stand up for themselves, so in I dove.
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| Sir Arthur Vicars |
Arthur Vicars is where it all begins. The Ulster King of Arms was an unlikely source of thrill: a not-quite-aristocratic member of the gentry, he was a man dedicated to being important—in a society where ancestors define one’s standing, the genealogist is king. However, deciding fates and rubbing shoulders with literal kings makes a person less concerned with the mundane tasks of the actual job.
For example, when when that shiny new safe was bought to go in the stoutest strongroom in Ireland, built in the newly renovated genealogical offices, Vicars didn’t bother to check that it would fit through the door. Since that left him with the option of admitting error or demolishing the strongroom, he chose a third option: quietly tuck it into the library instead, a room used by anyone who wanted to research their family ties.
And being a man given over to self-importance, Vicars’ friends—or perhaps that should be “friends”—found it easy to manipulate him. Especially since he had no head for alcohol. One wild evening sherry party the previous winter (had he taken two glasses of wine, or three?) found him waking in his office the next morning with bits of the Regalia draped around his neck like costume jewelry.
And being a man given over to self-importance, Vicars’ friends—or perhaps that should be “friends”—found it easy to manipulate him. Especially since he had no head for alcohol. One wild evening sherry party the previous winter (had he taken two glasses of wine, or three?) found him waking in his office the next morning with bits of the Regalia draped around his neck like costume jewelry.
Another time, a piece disappeared entirely, to be returned in the post a few days later. Har, har—what a joke to play on old Vicars!
Among those rather dubious friends were actual aristocrats, politicians, and society figures.
Such as Lord Haddo, who was probably responsible for those jokes with the Regalia, and whose father, ironically, was the Duke whose investiture was interrupted. And Francis Bennett-Goldney, mayor of Canterbury (later discovered to be a compulsive kleptomaniac.)
Among those rather dubious friends were actual aristocrats, politicians, and society figures.
Such as Lord Haddo, who was probably responsible for those jokes with the Regalia, and whose father, ironically, was the Duke whose investiture was interrupted. And Francis Bennett-Goldney, mayor of Canterbury (later discovered to be a compulsive kleptomaniac.)
Then there was the handsome young staff officer and shining star of the London salons, who bore the famous surname of Shackleton, being the explorer’s younger brother.
Rich ground for a crime writer, I’m sure you will agree. And that’s before I even got to the rumors that JP Morgan had been involved. Or the fact that Arthur Vicars was shot by the IRA a few years later and his house set afire. Or that Vicars’ half-brother was a wealthy eccentric with a passion for gardens, Bulgarian orphans, and Irish wolfhounds.
And to top this all off, Francis Shackleton, who had charmed Vicars into appointing him his right-hand man in the Office of Arms, who paid half the rent for the Dublin house they shared although he only spent a week or two there each year, who operated at the top of London society the rest of the time…was arrested a few years after the Jewels theft, when the huge Mexican land fraud he had created came to light.
A fraud that he never actually stood trial for.
As I dug away, uncovering one colorful character and situation after another, there remained one key, glaring question: why had the crime not been solved? From the beginning, even the local Dublin police knew it had to have been an inside job. There were a limited number of suspects. Scotland Yard was there within a few days, lest anyone worry that the locals were being paid off. Arthur Conan Doyle (a distant relation of Arthur Vicars) offered his help. A Viceregal Commission was brought together to interview witnesses and lodge a report.
But not a single diamond ever surfaced. Not one arrest was made.
The only person who paid a price was Arthur Vicars—and he only lost his beloved position because of his irresponsibility, not because anyone thought he had actually stolen the things himself.
And there, of course, lay the key. That circle of shady friends who sipped sherry and played jokes on their host? Within days, it became known that many of them had certain… reputations.
And although most of the time, no one cared if a person was quietly homosexual, Europe had recently seen two enormous international scandals that rattled governments and ruined lives, and England’s relationship with Ireland was already shaky.
Vicars himself blamed Francis Shackleton from the outset, and yet, investigating officers walked cautiously around the socialite with the important friends and the celebrated brother. The Viceregal Commission was held behind closed doors, out of concern for what Shackleton might say. And when the explorer’s brother did eventually sit down in front of the Commission and openly threaten to tell all?
Then thanked him for his help. They closed the investigation and presented the King with the blandest of results. Scotland Yard’s report disappeared entirely.
But I’m a mystery writer. I happen to also be a compulsive researcher, but primarily, I’m looking for a story. And so I examine my rich field of possibilities, and I see who was standing over to one side, and who might have a reason to stay quiet, and I say…
Well, that would be spoiling things, wouldn’t it?
Knave of Diamonds is out June 10.
HANK: Standing ovation, standing ovation! And I absolutely cannot wait to read this! Reds and readers?
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| The Charming Captain |
Rich ground for a crime writer, I’m sure you will agree. And that’s before I even got to the rumors that JP Morgan had been involved. Or the fact that Arthur Vicars was shot by the IRA a few years later and his house set afire. Or that Vicars’ half-brother was a wealthy eccentric with a passion for gardens, Bulgarian orphans, and Irish wolfhounds.
And to top this all off, Francis Shackleton, who had charmed Vicars into appointing him his right-hand man in the Office of Arms, who paid half the rent for the Dublin house they shared although he only spent a week or two there each year, who operated at the top of London society the rest of the time…was arrested a few years after the Jewels theft, when the huge Mexican land fraud he had created came to light.
A fraud that he never actually stood trial for.
As I dug away, uncovering one colorful character and situation after another, there remained one key, glaring question: why had the crime not been solved? From the beginning, even the local Dublin police knew it had to have been an inside job. There were a limited number of suspects. Scotland Yard was there within a few days, lest anyone worry that the locals were being paid off. Arthur Conan Doyle (a distant relation of Arthur Vicars) offered his help. A Viceregal Commission was brought together to interview witnesses and lodge a report.
But not a single diamond ever surfaced. Not one arrest was made.
The only person who paid a price was Arthur Vicars—and he only lost his beloved position because of his irresponsibility, not because anyone thought he had actually stolen the things himself.
And there, of course, lay the key. That circle of shady friends who sipped sherry and played jokes on their host? Within days, it became known that many of them had certain… reputations.
And although most of the time, no one cared if a person was quietly homosexual, Europe had recently seen two enormous international scandals that rattled governments and ruined lives, and England’s relationship with Ireland was already shaky.
Vicars himself blamed Francis Shackleton from the outset, and yet, investigating officers walked cautiously around the socialite with the important friends and the celebrated brother. The Viceregal Commission was held behind closed doors, out of concern for what Shackleton might say. And when the explorer’s brother did eventually sit down in front of the Commission and openly threaten to tell all?
Then thanked him for his help. They closed the investigation and presented the King with the blandest of results. Scotland Yard’s report disappeared entirely.
But I’m a mystery writer. I happen to also be a compulsive researcher, but primarily, I’m looking for a story. And so I examine my rich field of possibilities, and I see who was standing over to one side, and who might have a reason to stay quiet, and I say…
Well, that would be spoiling things, wouldn’t it?
Knave of Diamonds is out June 10.
HANK: Standing ovation, standing ovation! And I absolutely cannot wait to read this! Reds and readers?
What do you think of this tale?
HOW does Laurie do it?
(And are you a Mary Russell fan? Why? I dare you to say no :-)
Laurie R. King is the bestselling author of nineteen Mary Russell-Sherlock Holmes novels, five Kate Martinellis, two Stuyvesant-Greys, five standalones, novellas, anthologies, and a new series featuring SFPD Inspector Raquel Laing. She has won the Agatha, Anthony, Edgar, Lambda, Wolfe, Macavity, Creasey Dagger, and Romantic Times Career Achievement awards, has an honorary doctorate, and is both a Baker Street Irregular and an MWA Grand Master. If you go to https://laurierking.com, you’ll find her newsletter, links to her social media, an excerpt of Knave of Diamonds, and pages of book club kits and other Fun Stuff.
Knave of Diamonds
Mary Russell adored her black-sheep Uncle Jake, but she's assumed that his ne’er-do-well ways brought him to a bad end somewhere—until he presents himself at her Sussex door. Yes, Jake is back, and with a tricky problem for his clever niece. Namely, the 1907 theft of the Irish Crown Jewels that shook a government, enraged a King, and baffled the police. Her husband, Sherlock Holmes, was somehow involved—and yet Jake expects Russell to slip away without telling Holmes.
Conflicting loyalties and international secrets, blatant lies and blithe deceptions: sounds like another case for Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes.
