The Third Case of the Carmichael Ruby
Past and present collide as Finn meets a long-lost relative.
Author’s note: This is Episode 4 of a brand-new Thorfinn Grimm ongoing story. Here’s a link to the full index so you can catch up on previous adventures. Enjoy!
When I was nine years old, my parents, Mr Alfred Grimm and Mrs Elin Geist-Grimm, were accused of electrocuting my eccentric uncle. The police were convinced they’d done it, even though Uncle Lester had a habit of playing with wires. It was my first case. After weeks of careful investigation, I proved that at the time of the death, my father and mother were on the other side of the country. What were they doing there? Planting the car bomb that killed an up-and-coming industrialist called Rupert Welles. That was the start of my curse, and I didn’t see my parents again. Until the day my mother appeared unannounced at my doorstep.
She had arrived at a terrible time. I had fallen off a roof recently and, though unharmed, was ordered to stay at home for a week to make sure I didn’t have any further complications.
Four days had passed and I was on the cusp of proving that a recent rash of celebrity killings, masterminded by a mysterious group calling themselves the Night Witches, was actually a smokescreen. The “victims” had faked their deaths to avoid scandals, but I still didn’t know who was helping them pull it off. But the moment I saw my mother, all those thoughts fell out of my head and I felt like a child again.
Naturally, the first thing I did was ask her where she’d been all those years. She wasn’t in the mood for long reminiscences so she kept it brief.
“We didn’t want you kids to find out but your father and I were international art thieves,” Mother explained. “It’s how we could afford such a lavish lifestyle. We’re also professional escape artists. It took us less than 48 hours to break out of custody.”
“So why wait all this while?” I asked. “Why didn’t you come find us right away?”
Mother shrugged. “Your father and I decided a life on the lam is no way to raise children. It was for the best that you stayed with your grandmother. Anyway, we don’t have much time. I have a job for you, Thorfinn.”
And there was the ulterior motive. I want to say it was typical of her, but it had been so long since I’d seen her that I had no idea what she was like. I wanted to scream at her for abandoning me, for letting me live this cursed life of mine. Thankfully, my roommate Pippin, who had been completely quiet so far, decided to do it for me.
“You horrible, horrible woman,” he thundered, with a fury I’d never seen in him before. “You abandoned this poor man, traumatised him for life, and now you’re here asking for his help? What sick sort of mother are you? Why would you ever think Finn would want to help you?”
“Because,” Mother said, her lips narrowing to a stern line. “I know how you can stop the Night Witches. I’ll tell you, but only if you help me steal the Carmichael Ruby.”
She had my attention. The information she offered was enticing enough, but the Carmichael Ruby made things really interesting. Perhaps you could use a little background:
Mr Jonathan Carmichael was a gruff, ill-tempered old man who had few friends and no family. He arrived in the country nearly twenty years ago, having made his fortune through mining interests in South America. On his arrival, Mr Carmichael bought a sprawling estate in the country off a landed gent who’d fallen on hard times. He then set about filling it with priceless curios from around the world, and an army of servants to care for them. The crown of his collection was the Carmichael Ruby, a large blood-red gemstone that had already been stolen twice. Both times, I was instrumental in returning the jewel to its rightful owner.
Three days later, I arrived at the Carmichael Estate with a plan to steal the ruby for a third time. During those three days, I did two important things in preparation for the heist.
First, I got in touch with Inspector Faiza Ahmed and told her how the Night Witch bombings had been staged. She promised to share the information with international authorities, making sure it didn’t reach the press just yet.
The day after that, I called some contacts in the press and gave them a story, with strict instructions not to publish it until they had my signal. This was my insurance policy, one I hoped I wouldn’t have to use.
Then came the day of the heist, the day I arrived at Mr Carmichael’s door and rang the bell. The plan was simple: all I had to do was distract Mr Carmichael while Pip broke into his strong room and made off with the ruby. Mother gave us the code for the room and we timed it for the guards’ shift change, but I still needed to buy Pip at least twenty minutes to safely get away. Twenty minutes, starting from the moment I rang the bell.
I was greeted by a butler, who took my coat and escorted me to the parlour. Mr Carmichael was waiting for me, his usually rough demeanour surprisingly softened. He had a glass of brandy in his hand, which may have had something to do with it.
“Mr Grimm,” he said warmly. “I can’t believe we’ve never met before.”
He thanked me profusely for all my help getting the ruby back for him the last time it was stolen. It made me nervous, but I had to hide it. Ten minutes had passed. We were at the halfway point now.
Mr Carmichael asked if I would like a drink and I asked for some tea. He rang a bell and a maid with bleached blonde hair appeared to take his order. She looked at me before leaving the room and our eyes met for the briefest of moments. Instantly, I felt my stomach drop, a terrible feeling crawling up my spine.
A big burly man burst into the parlour saying, “Mr Carmichael, we caught a thief.”
Two more men walked in, holding Pip between them. My mind was running in overdrive. There was only one explanation: the codes, the timings, they were all wrong. We were set up, and by my own mother no less. Now do you believe I’m cursed?
Mr Carmichael was, in a word, apoplectic. In a matter of moments, he would have called the police, and Pip would have been arrested for attempted theft. I do not believe he would last very long in prison, so I had to improvise.
“Mr Carmichael,” I said. “There’s something I need to tell you, something important. The last time your ruby was stolen, you shot one of the robbers, remember?”
“Yes, and I have half a mind to do it again,” he replied, giving Pip a dirty look.
“Well, right,” I continued. “We guessed he probably died but the police didn’t find the body so no one thought much of it, but I know where it is.”
“So what?” asked Mr Carmichael. “It was self-defence. There’s no judge in this country who would even entertain such a case.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” I nodded. “But the police would still have to confirm some details. Take your fingerprints, for example. Or your DNA.”
Mr Carmichael’s face grew pale. The fury in his eyes was replaced by suspicion.
“That wouldn’t be necessary,” he argued. “I’m sure they don’t need to do that.”
“Not if they don’t find the body,” I shrugged. “And they don’t need to. Not if you release this man into my custody.”
He hesitated, but I knew I had him.
“What will you do with him?” he asked as we were leaving.
“I’m sure I can find a use for him,” I said. “I have a feeling I might need a new roommate.”
“It was never about the ruby,” I told Pip as we drove away in a cab. “We were just a distraction. Mr Carmichael must have had something else my mother wanted, some sort of diary or journal I think.”
“But why?” he asked. “What could your mother want with that man’s diary?”
“It started twenty years ago,” I explained. “A man called Rupert Welles was killed with a car bomb. At the time, it looked like my parents had done it, and I proved that in court. The trouble is, I was just nine years old. My mind didn’t work the same way. Now I think they were framed, and Rupert Welles never died. Jonathan Carmichael is Rupert Welles. It must have taken them years to track him down, but now they can prove their innocence.”
“Your parents are international art thieves who tried to frame me,” Pip pointed out. “I don’t think you can call them innocent. Anyway, how did you figure it out?”
“The maid,” I said darkly. “I knew we were played the second I saw the maid.”
They were already inside the flat when we got home. Mother had a broad smile on her face, looking almost as happy as I remember her being when we were kids. The “maid” was with her. The blonde hair was a nice touch, but I would have recognised her anywhere.
“Hello, Freya,” I said, hugging my sister. “So, you were in on it.”
“Obviously,” Freya said. “You couldn’t pull off a heist if your life depended on it.”
“And you got it, I suppose? The evidence?”
“All here,” said Mother, holding up an old leather-bound journal. “Our friend Mr Carmichael is very old-school, not to mention boringly predictable.”
“You tricked me,” I said, biting back my anger. “And you put my friend’s life in danger.”
“I knew you could get out of it,” she assured me. “I am your mother, after all.”
I should have been furious but honestly, I felt relieved.
“Fine, why not?” I said. “At least this makes us even. Ever since I sent you and Father to prison, I’ve lived with this guilt. This curse. It’s made me feel like everything in life is a hurdle. Now I don’t have to live like that anymore.”
“Oh you silly child,” Mother laughed. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? You were never cursed, and certainly not by us. Life is hard, Thorfinn. Doing the right thing is hard, that’s why literally everyone else in your family has chosen to go the other way. But here you are, trying anyway, choosing to better the world and finding whatever victories you can. That’s all a mother can ask for, and I am so very proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I said. “That… means a lot. I’m still mad at you, though. And you did promise me some information.”
“Of course,” Mother nodded. “A deal’s a deal.”
And then she told me what I needed to know, the last piece I needed. When she was done, everything became clear, and I could finally see my true enemy for what they were.
But we’ll get to that.
To Be Continued.
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Holy mother of Finn !