To Robin’s consternation, he jumped to his feet again, pulled his white gloves back on, and proceeded to unlock the cabinet.
‘Nice little pocket watch,’ he said, holding it out to her in his cotton-covered palm. ‘Sterling, not plate! Triangular, of course. Masonic symbols instead of numbers, you see? More of a man’s piece, of course,’ he said, when Robin showed no sign of enthusiasm. ‘For the ladies – you’ll like this—’
He picked up a small silver orb charm, and flicked a catch, so that it transformed into a jointed cross.
‘Nice, eh?’ he said. ‘And again, you’ve got your masonic symbols, hidden inside.’
‘Very pretty,’ said Robin.
‘You should drop a hint to—’
Ramsay’s eyes flickered to her bare ring finger.
‘—or just treat yourself. For Christmas.’
To Robin’s relief, Strike now reappeared, his face somewhat contorted. The stairs were steep and his stump still complaining, post-Cornwall.
‘I could do you a good deal,’ said Ramsay, smiling anxiously at Robin.
‘Maybe another time,’ she said, embarrassed.
Ramsay locked up the cabinet with obvious reluctance, returned to his seat behind the desk, and rummaged in the desk drawer for a glossy auction catalogue.
‘I’ve circled everything I bought,’ he told Strike, as the latter sat down next to Robin. ‘So you know what you’re looking for.’
‘Great,’ said Strike, taking the catalogue. The cover read:
‘Would that be a nef?’ asked Strike.
‘Ah, you know your silver!’ said Ramsay eagerly. ‘Yes, she was commissioned by Murdoch out of silver from his own mine – second largest in Peru, discovered in 1827 – and modelled on the
Ramsay now launched unstoppably into an explanation of the significance of the Murdoch silver, speaking with the peculiar, tone deaf intensity of the monomaniac.
‘… 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.’