‘… Murdoch, of course, was Inspector General of the Louisiana jurisdiction…’ ‘… largest, most valuable collection of masonic silver in the world,’ ‘… gadrooned borders…’ ‘… superb nineteenth-century setting maul…’ ‘… bright cut engraving…’
‘We can keep this, can we?’ interrupted Strike, stemming the flow of words by raising his voice.
‘Oh – yes, yes, I’ve got another copy.’
‘Are you on the square yourself?’ asked Strike.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Ramsay. ‘You?’
‘’Fraid not.’
‘Ah. I thought, being ex-military – one of our best customers is a colonel in the Light Infantry. My wife’s father was a mason, too. She’s a Bullen by birth. Bullen & Co? Very old silver firm. They’re down in the London Silver Vaults. Been going a hundred and twenty-seven years.’
‘Wow,’ said Robin, to whom the job of being impressed by interviewees usually fell.
‘But when her father retired a couple of years ago, he handed the business over to m’sister-in-law and her husband. His choice, of course, up to him,’ said Kenneth sniffily. ‘We’d hoped… but, long story short, Pamela and Geoffrey and Rachel and I worked out a deal, and we took the masonic stock – Bullen & Co had a small side-line in masonic artefacts, nothing on our scale, of course – and we opened this place.’
‘What kind of business was here before you took over?’
‘A jewellers,’ said Ramsay, ‘so the place was already set up for us, really. Very convenient.’
‘You changed all the codes when you took the place over, though?’ said Strike.
‘Oh yes, of course,’ said Ramsay, before pointing at the catalogue in Strike’s hands and reverting to his favourite subject. ‘I got all the most important Murdoch pieces. Made an offer before the auction, and it was accepted. Put a few noses out of joint, as a matter of fact, hahaha. There were a lot of collectors who were very interested, waiting to bid.’
‘Let’s talk about William Wright,’ said Strike.
‘Of course, anything you need to know, ask away,’ said Ramsay, but he pressed on before Strike could speak. ‘Our security’s really top notch, as you can see, but Knowles was a professional, wasn’t he?’
‘Did you interview him for the job?’ said Strike.
‘Yes, with Pamela, and she liked him at the time, whatever she said afterwards.
‘What sort of problems?’ asked Strike.
‘She had that laser eye surgery, and it didn’t work. She’s had a lot of trouble since. So we advertised.’
‘Did you have many applicants?’ asked Strike.
‘Not many. Young people have unrealistic expectations of salaries these days, very unrealistic,’ said Ramsay, bristling slightly, ‘but Wright seemed ideal. Short, but a strong lad – our security chap had resigned a couple of months previously, you see, so I thought Wright could cover both bases, as it were. He did jujitsu.’
‘Was he given the alarm and vault codes when he started here? Keys?’
‘Oh, no,’ said Ramsay. ‘No, of course not. Absolutely not.’
‘Did you see much of him yourself?’
‘Not really. I’d pop in here at lunch sometimes, see how things were going. No, it was really just Pamela – oh, and Jim, coming in to clean two mornings a week. He’s been with us since the start, couple of years now.’
‘This would be Jim Todd?’ asked Strike.
Ramsay didn’t question how Strike knew his cleaner’s surname, but said,
‘That’s right. Lovely man. Fell on hard times, so we helped him out with a job. He cleans for a few different businesses.’
‘So it would’ve been Pamela who had most to do with William Wright?’
‘Yes, and Jim would’ve seen a bit of him, too. More than me. As I say, I’ve been very busy, but it was important to keep the shop going. It’s our baby, you know, and—’
Ramsay’s voice broke, and Robin, thinking again of the dead son, said,
‘This must all have been incredibly difficult for you.’
‘It has,’ said Ramsay hoarsely. ‘Yes. It has.’
His gaze roved, apparently absent-mindedly, back to Robin’s chest. She folded her arms and he looked hastily away.
‘So William Wright was on your security footage, all that Friday the seventeenth of June?’ said Strike, his tone less sympathetic than Robin’s. He’d noticed the ogling.
‘Yes, yes, we’ve always got the camera on, in case of shoplifters. The police took that footage away, after the burglary, or – no, maybe it’s still on here,’ said Ramsay, peering dimly at the computer, ‘but I wouldn’t know how to…’
‘Could I have a look?’ asked Robin. ‘We’ve got a similar camera feed in our office. I might be able to find it.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Ramsay. ‘Password,’ he muttered, and after a couple of attempts, he succeeded in entering it correctly, then ceded his chair to Robin.
‘I understand Wright left the shop for a while, that Friday?’ said Strike.
