As Strike hadn’t shouted about Wade King, Robin thought she ought to exercise similar restraint, so rather than query the advisability of further antagonising MI5 she said,
‘So Rena’s the reason you want to keep investigating?’
‘No, I’d decided to carry on before she called. I came in here after I got back from the whole stabbing-and-hospital clusterfuck and I had… maybe not a revelation, but an idea, about the Gibsons delivery and the Oriental Centrepiece, and the more I think about it, the more I think I might be on to something. Blame Tom Waits.’
‘The singer?’ said Robin, confused.
‘Yeah. Listen to this.’
Strike pressed a button on his keyboard, and a tinkling piano began playing.
‘Wait for the chorus,’ said Strike.
…
‘I… don’t understand,’ said Robin.
‘Come round here,’ said Strike, beckoning her to his side of the desk, and he smelled her perfume again as she moved to look at the frozen footage from Ramsays’ internal camera on Strike’s monitor. While Tom Waits continued to sing, Strike pressed play.
Larry McGee entered the shop, dumped the crates, and left.
Wright took the first crate down to the basement.
The young blonde arrived and engaged Pamela’s attention.
Wright took the second crate down to the vault.
He took the third crate downstairs.
Todd entered the shop and helped Wright lift the largest crate downstairs.
Wright returned to the shop floor.
Todd was still in the basement. He remained there for nearly twenty minutes.
Todd reappeared.
The blonde left.
Pamela descended alone to the vault.
Pamela returned to the shop floor, holding items she then placed in a bag.
Wright left, carrying the bag.
Pamela received her text.
Pamela told Todd to stay.
Pamela received a call. She pointed Todd towards the door. He left the shop.
Wright and Todd returned, staggering under the weight of another large crate.
They carried it down to the vault.
Todd came back upstairs and handed Pamela her bag.
Pamela left.
Todd had his coughing fit.
Forty-four minutes passed.
Wright re-emerged from the basement.
He and Todd argued.
Todd left.
Strike pressed pause. Tom Waits continued to sing:
‘D’you see it?’ said Strike.
‘Nothing I haven’t seen every other time I’ve watched it,’ said Robin.
‘OK,’ said Strike, rewinding, and yet again he played the piece of footage in which Todd and Wright carried the largest crate of the original delivery towards the vault. Todd was moving very slowly, crabwise, and looked in risk of dropping it.
‘Are they acting, would you say?’ said Strike. ‘Pretending it’s a lot heavier than it is?’
‘No,’ said Robin. ‘It looks genuinely heavy.’
‘But the Oriental Centrepiece isn’t inside, is it? Because it’s gone to Bullen & Co. Now…’
Strike fast forwarded again and pressed play. Pamela came back upstairs from the vault, holding small items in her arms which she placed into a bag and handed to Wright, who left.
‘Pamela took off the lid of the big crate downstairs, right?’ Strike said to Robin. ‘And instead of the centrepiece, she saw the small items she’d bought for her own business.’
‘Right,’ said Robin.
‘Which she – a woman in her late fifties, with dodgy knees – managed to carry upstairs. So…?’
‘Why was the crate so heavy, going downstairs,’ said Robin, aghast. ‘
‘Same reason I didn’t. Same reason Pamela didn’t twig, or Wright himself. Same reason people still fall for the three-cup scam,’ said Strike. ‘And then I started thinking about that footprint in the blood round the head, and the buggered blind, and that warped door behind the desk. Light would’ve been visible through the window if the killer had turned it on in the basement…
‘This doesn’t tell us why,’ said Strike, ‘and it doesn’t tell us who, but it does tell us something important about our killer. That vault was literally the only place where they’ve had a realistic chance of taking William Wright by surprise. Necessity. They had literally no other choice.’
114
Robert Browning