“We should be happy to do so,” Joanna agreed without hesitation. “Where was the very last act of vandalism committed?”
“At the Hawke and Evans gallery,” Lestrade replied. “It was here that the most extensive damage was done. A total of five paintings were defaced.”
“Then that is the place we shall begin,” Joanna said. “I take it the crime scene is still intact?”
“It has been cordoned off and the gallery closed.”
“Please see that it stays that way,” Joanna requested. “If it is convenient, Inspector, we shall meet you there within the hour.”
Lestrade departed our rooms with a step that was far livelier than the one he entered with. My father followed the inspector out with his gaze, then came back to us. He waited to hear the sound of the front door closing before he spoke. “This is certainly not the most interesting of cases, but then senseless vandalism seldom is.”
“There is more to this than meets the eye,” Joanna said mysteriously. “It is not simple vandalism.”
“Based on what?” I asked.
“Everything Lestrade has told us,” Joanna answered. “There is a plan afoot here and there is a method to the man’s apparent madness.”
“Do you believe it will reveal itself at Hawke and Evans?” my father asked.
“There and other places where the acts of vandalism occurred.”
“What makes you so certain the vandal will leave other clues behind?”
“Because he is careless and obviously new at the game,” Joanna replied. “An experienced criminal, particularly one on hard times, would never depart without his valued scarf.”
“But it snagged on a door chain.”
“Pshaw, Watson! One good pull and it would have immediately freed itself.”
“The failure to do so also tells of his carelessness,” I opined.
“That and the fact he overlooked something on his first visit to Hawke and Evans, and had to return a second time.”
“But to what end?”
“That is what must be determined, for it is the key to resolution,” Joanna stated. “All seemingly senseless crimes, if carefully observed, will be found to have a common denominator which will connect all loose threads into a recognizable pattern, and that is what we must search for here. Show me the common denominator and I will show you the vandal.”
2Hawke and Evans
On our arrival at Hawke and Evans, Joanna did not hurry to the crime scene, as was her usual custom, but rather took a slow, deliberate walk down a footpath that ran alongside the art gallery. The path held no noticeable clues, for it was covered with the early morning snowfall, yet Joanna stepped off every foot of it, staying close to the two-story, sandstone building itself. Just ahead was the side entrance that rested within a small alcove and was thus free of snow.
“Note the footprints by the door,” Joanna observed, as she knelt down to examine the muddy impressions with a magnifying glass. “They are most instructive.”
I moved in for a closer view and could only see a jumble of footprints, many superimposed upon one another, with none standing out as a whole. “It would appear that a sizable number of men assembled here for some reason.”
“There were only three when you count the distinct toes of the shoes,” Joanna informed. “One was a working man as evidenced by the square toe of his boots and the roughness of their soles. The other two members wore pointed shoes of different sizes, indicating they belonged to a higher economic class.”
“But why were they stepping over one another?”
“Because they were here at different times,” replied Joanna. “There is no other plausible explanation.”
She gave the muddy imprints a final look and, carefully avoiding them, moved to the heavy, brass door lock that had been recently shined. Again using her magnifying glass, she meticulously examined it, paying particular attention to the keyhole itself. “I can detect tiny nicks, some no larger than a pinprick.”
“From a key perhaps?” my father suggested.
Joanna smiled at the answer, then twisted the knob, but the door did not give. “Yes, my dear Watson, it was a key of sorts.”
My father considered the clues further before saying, “In all likelihood, the door was opened by the owner or a trusted employee, for they alone would have such a key.”
Joanna waved away the explanation. “The tiny nicks were made by a lockpick who accompanied the vandal. He was the individual wearing the boots belonging to a working man. The vandal had on shoes with pointed toes.”
“And the third man wearing pointed shoes?”
“Undoubtedly Lestrade or one of his men who trudged over the evidence and may have mucked up important clues in the process.”
“Surely this combination of happenings is no more than an educated guess,” said I.
“It is based on several very sound assumptions that are backed up by clear-cut observations,” Joanna replied. “First, you will note there is a lamppost near the front of the gallery. Only a fool, which our vandal is not, would attempt to break in through a well-lighted entrance where he could be easily noticed. Thus, he would plan to enter via a side door that is situated on a darkened alleyway. But here he encounters a lock of the best type. He cannot smash the door down, for this activity would cause a great ruckus that would be heard by all in the vicinity. So our vandal has to hire an expert lockpick to do the deed for him.”
“But our vandal is a man of limited means,” I argued.
“Lockpicks come cheap, particularly those who pick and run,” Joanna explained. “So, here is the crime at the very beginning, as I see it. The vandal and his hired lockpick sneak down the alleyway in the dark of night. Snow is falling, so their footprints will be covered should some passerby happen to glance down the footpath. In the alcove, the light is poor which causes the lockpick to miss the keyhole as he tries to insert the pick. This accounts for the tiny nicks that can only be seen with a magnifying glass. The position
