‘Yes, exactly. He wasn’t supposed to be on that computer at all. It’s only there for website orders and our client database. I said to Pamela, “what was he doing, messing around on the computer?” She said it must have been when she went out for lunch. You know, a lot of this is down to Pamela’s carelessness,’ said Ramsay, in a sudden burst of temper. ‘We were supposed to be so grateful for her help, but she was the one who left early on Friday, which meant Wright could close the door without setting the alarm!’
‘Really?’ said Robin, who’d just successfully cut, copied and emailed the relevant portion of camera footage to the agency’s address. ‘Why did Pamela leave early?’
‘She – it was a private matter,’ said Ramsay, looking uncomfortable. ‘But even so – damn careless of her.’
‘What had Wright been doing online, d’you know?’ asked Strike.
‘He’d been looking up things about Freemasons, and he’d been on some website that was all about clearing your name and escaping prison and things like that.’
‘It’d be very helpful if you could remember the details of that website,’ said Strike.
Kenneth screwed up his cherubic face.
‘It was called something like “Innocent and Accused”. People complaining they’d been framed, or blamed for things they hadn’t done, and advising each other how to get out of it. Some really nasty stuff on there. Advocating vigilantism, some of them. How to get their own back.’
‘Can you remember what the website looked like? A logo, or colours?’
‘Had a sort of eye-for-an-eye logo,’ said Ramsay. ‘Two hands, each holding an eye.’
‘And there’s nothing else you can tell us about Wright?’ said Strike. ‘Accent, mention of home life, interests…?’
‘Well, he wouldn’t tell the truth about anything like that, would he?’ said Ramsay, sounding frustrated. ‘He was a criminal. He was playing a part. Oh,’ he added suddenly, ‘but there was the email. We think Wright sent a strange email, from here. He used the Ramsay Silver email address.’
‘Who was the email sent to?’ asked Strike.
‘A man called Osgood.’
‘Did you tell the police about this?’
‘Oh yes. Pamela found it, after we’d realised Wright had been using the PC. The police questioned us about it, but none of
‘Would you mind us taking a copy of the email?’ asked Strike.
‘No, of course not. It’s still on there,’ Ramsay told Robin, who found it without much difficulty and forwarded it to both her own and Strike’s accounts.
‘I know you need to get back to your office,’ Strike said to Ramsay, ‘so, last question: would you happen to have the address Wright was living at?’
‘I didn’t keep his CV,’ said Ramsay, ‘but I do remember the street. St George’s Avenue, Newham. I thought that was a good omen, when I saw it. Saint George.’
‘Would you happen to remember the house number?’
‘No, I’m afraid not… maybe directory enquiries…’
‘Well, thanks for meeting us,’ said Strike. ‘It’s been very helpful.’
He got to his feet, holding the catalogue Ramsay had given him.
‘If you have any more questions, don’t hesitate to call me,’ said Ramsay, as he too stood up. Now that Strike and Robin were about to leave, he once again seemed eager and a little pathetic. ‘Here – take my card. Whatever you need…’
They shook hands again.
As Ramsay bustled ahead to open the door for the detectives, Dean Martin’s voice crooned over the shop’s speakers:
15
John Oxenham
Strike glanced up at the camera over the street door as he and Robin emerged into the chilly afternoon. Strike suspected it was inactive, because it had a noticeable crack in the lens. This, he assumed, was the reason there’d been no pictures in the press of the killers entering the shop.
‘Let’s have a look at Wild Street,’ he said, and they headed onwards, away from Kingsway, onto a much quieter road without shops or cafés.
‘Yeah, they must’ve brought the silver here,’ said Strike, looking up and down the street, ‘and bunged it in the getaway car. There’s a pub up there,’ he added, pointing back towards the place where they’d met. ‘Fancy some food?’
‘Great,’ said Robin.
‘What was Ramsay trying to flog you, when I came upstairs?’ asked Strike as they walked.
‘Um – first a triangular pocket watch, and then a charm that was a ball that turned into a cross marked with hidden masonic symbols when you opened it. I could’ve been persuaded into buying that one.’
‘Never had you pegged as a pushover for salesmen.’
‘I’m not, but it was pretty and—’