That meant the image probably wouldn’t be good enough to enhance beyond an indistinct blur. ‘OK, let it play again.’
The man stepped up to the counter, head down – looking at the shiny things arrayed beneath the glass. He’d been in the shop two minutes now and the camera still hadn’t got a decent shot of his face.
There was a moment’s silence from the phone, then,
‘Uh-huh.’
Logan tapped the screen again. ‘Look at the front door.’
Butler leaned in closer, face screwed up. ‘What?’
‘Bottom right corner. He’s dropped something where the door meets the jam, so it won’t shut all the way.’
The man pointed at something glittering away beneath the counter’s glass surface, and the shop assistant nodded. She undid some sort of catch, then opened the back of the display, pulling out a black velvet tray. There was no audio, everything happening in complete silence.
Outside the shop window a bus juddered past. The time stamp in the corner of the screen read ‘09:14’.
The assistant held up one of the items from the tray.
The man in the flat cap nodded, then reached into his long black overcoat.
PC Butler smiled. ‘See, told you.’
The sledgehammer was about half the length it should have been, but that didn’t stop it shattering the glass counter top into a million glittering fragments. Another swing and the cash register went flying. Another, and a display case exploded. A silent ballet of destruction.
The woman in the corner scurried back against the wall, hauling her little boy with her. Mouth open. Screaming.
‘…
The man hoisted the sledgehammer over his head and brought it crashing down, double handed, into the counter again. The flat cap went flying, exposing a swath of bald head hiding beneath a thin comb-over.
‘…
A scramble of black gloves through the wreckage, stuffing rings and bracelets and necklaces and bits of broken glass into his pockets, then the flat cap was snatched up and rammed down on the balding head again. Not once had he looked at the camera.
The man backed away through the open door, pulling the stroller with him, and—
Logan sat forward and poked the screen. ‘There: the cuddly rabbit.’
The little kid in the stroller must have lost its grip, because the rabbit went tumbling to the glass-strewn shop floor. Bounced once. Then lay there.
‘The kid was sooking on it, we’ll be able to get DNA from the saliva.’
Butler stared at him. ‘The kid didn’t rob the shop, it was—’
‘You don’t hold up a jewellers with someone else’s kid, do you? What sort of crappy babysitter would that be? It’s his. Or maybe a grandchild, but it’s definitely related. We’ll get a familial DNA match.’ Logan sat back in his seat, pleased with himself. ‘Get round there and pick up…’
He drifted to a halt, then swore as a hand reached back into the shop from outside and grabbed the fallen bunny. Then kicked away whatever had been keeping the door ajar, allowing it to finally clunk shut.
So much for that.
And then Logan realized Steel had stopped ranting in his ear. ‘Inspector?’ Silence. ‘Hello?’ He looked at the phone’s display. She’d hung up.
Couldn’t have been that important then.
Logan sat back in his seat, tapping the mobile against his chin. ‘There’s something not right about this.’
He told Butler to wind the tape back to the start, then sat and watched everything unfold again. ‘See, he blocks the door from closing, so he obviously knows the first thing jewellery shops do is trip the silent alarm. Bang, all the exits lock till the police turn up. But when he does the smash and grab, he goes for sparkly, worthless crap…’
PC Butler shrugged. ‘Maybe he watches too much telly?
‘Could be. Get the shop assistant in front of an e-fit artist, maybe we can—’
BANG. The viewing room door flew open, and there she was: DI Steel, face flushed, teeth gritted. ‘You!’ She threw a finger in Logan’s direction. ‘Where the bloody hell do you think you’ve been?’
Butler shrank in her seat, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
Logan opened his mouth, but Steel wasn’t finished yet.
‘Interview room three,
‘But—’
‘NOW!’
