‘Other than that Todd worked at Ramsay Silver, and McGee delivered the Murdoch silver there that day, very little. Todd let slip he knew McGee was dead when I interviewed him, though, which seemed strange, because he’d initially claimed not to know who he was.’
‘You’ve been in contact with McGee’s daughter,’ said Iverson.
‘I have, yeah,’ said Strike, ‘but she told me nothing useful, other than that McGee was a creep around women, which I’d already found out from his ex-colleagues at Gibsons.’
‘Offer the daughter money?’ said Northmore.
‘Why would I have offered her money?’ asked Strike, but the policeman didn’t enlighten him.
‘What made you so interested in McGee?’ asked Iverson.
‘I’m interested in everything that happened to the stolen silver. It’s tied to the murdered man I’m supposed to be identifying,’ said Strike. ‘Basic background, isn’t it?’
He hadn’t forgotten that the police’s interest in what had happened to the Murdoch silver immediately before its arrival at Ramsays had been minimal.
Iverson glanced at Northmore, who drew himself up in his chair before asking,
‘Where did you get the idea that Sofia Medina was tied to the silver vault murder?’
‘That wasn’t me, it was my partner. She spotted that the description of Medina’s body and clothing matched the description given to us of a woman who took objects out of Wright’s room in Newham. As you’re aware,’ Strike added, again for the benefit of the recording, ‘when we were told about the man and woman who entered Wright’s place in the hours before and the hours after his murder, we passed the information directly to you lot.’
‘You offered the witnesses money for information,’ said Iverson.
‘Yeah,’ said Strike. ‘They’re skint.’
‘You’ve been throwing a lot of money at potential witnesses,’ said Northmore, and the stench of diseased gums washed over Strike again, ‘which renders their testimony easy to undermine in court.’
‘If you’re telling me the Met’s never recompensed informers—’
‘You paid two of Jim Todd’s ex-neighbours, too. You can’t see how it might muddy the waters, a well-heeled private investigator wandering around throwing cash at witnesses and suspects?’ said Iverson.
The woman had some brass neck, thought Strike. She’d leaked to Murphy, knowing full well who his girlfriend was, and now sat smugly in her navy trouser suit, acting as though she, unlike Strike, had never deviated a hair’s breadth from a strict professionalism. Nevertheless, Strike had to admit the case she and Northmore were building against him was a decent one. Prior to the sale of Ted and Joan’s house he’d been far from well-off; all earnings had been ploughed back into the business, but it would be only too easy to depict him as the son of a multimillionaire rock star who trampled vaingloriously through open murder investigations, corrupting and perhaps suborning important witnesses to his own ends. Now he understood Northmore’s first, strange hint about keeping Shanker to himself by the power of his wallet, rather than sharing him, like some kind of human metal detector, with the police.
‘Did you give Gretchen Schiff money?’ asked Iverson.
‘My partner interviewed Schiff, and no, she didn’t give her money,’ said Strike, who’d decided it was time to pull out his metaphorical stick. ‘Have to say, we were surprised you hadn’t got the information about Oz out of Schiff, especially as Medina isn’t the only young woman who disappeared after meeting him, is she?’
He had to give Iverson this much credit: she had an excellent poker face. The mention of ‘Oz’ hadn’t caused even a slight tremor of recognition.
‘You know he’s done this at least twice, right?’ said Strike. ‘That a girl called Sapphire Neagle vanished after meeting a man who also posed as a music producer, and also gave her a ruby necklace?’
‘This interview is about what
‘Just surprised you haven’t appealed for information on him,’ said Strike. ‘Especially given the van business.’
Strike could tell Iverson really didn’t want to ask him to clarify what he meant; it would be an admission of weakness. Finally she said,
‘What van business?’
‘Oz was looking to buy a van,’ said Strike. ‘The real Calvin Osgood got an email about it, but he’d never tried to buy an old van. An abandoned van was found in the vicinity of Medina’s body, wasn’t it?’
He could have said more, could have said that he knew a young woman who’d been either genuinely blonde, or wearing a wig, had got into a van after dropping the silver Peugeot back at the rental centre, but as he owed this knowledge to Murphy, via Robin, he kept it to himself.
‘Strange, the way Truman didn’t want to look at anything that didn’t fit with the body being Knowles,’ said Strike.