‘And after they killed him too,’ says Donna. The local police had been called to the shop at around noon on December 28th – hours after someone had put a bullet through Kuldesh’s head. Donna thinks about the statue Bogdan had bought for her. The statue Kuldesh had ended up giving him for a pound in the name of love. Does that make the statue bad luck? Donna hopes not.
Christmas with Bogdan had been everything she could have hoped for and more. Well, maybe not everything: his present to her had been quad-bike lessons.
‘So someone arranges to meet Kuldesh,’ says Chris.
‘Kuldesh has something for them, they have something for Kuldesh. Money, let’s assume.’ Donna is now flicking through a book of receipts.
‘The cars drive down the lane, pull up. Our killer walks out of their car, one bullet through the window, then picks up whatever Kuldesh has for them?’
‘Except he doesn’t have it, it’s not in his car. He’s kept it back here. For insurance.’
The receipts show that Kuldesh’s shop was very quiet on the 27th. Three sales. A lantern, seventy-five pounds in cash; an ‘unsigned seascape’, ninety-five pounds on the credit card of a ‘Terence Brown’; and ‘assorted spoons’ for a fiver.
Donna spots a mobile phone wedged behind a radiator. She wonders why Kuldesh hadn’t taken it with him, then remembers he was eighty. Either way, he has gone to the trouble of hiding it, so perhaps it contains something of interest. She eases it out and places it in an evidence bag.
Of course Kuldesh might have sold any number of things off the books. CCTV would give them a better idea. Though if that CCTV was linked to Kuldesh’s hard drive, they are out of luck, as it lies smashed to pieces next to the empty safe.
‘So the question is, what were they looking for? What did Kuldesh have?’
‘And,’ says Donna, looking at the empty safe again, ‘did they find it?’
As they walk out of the office, Donna looks at the cameras rigged up inside the shop. They seem serious, and she hopes they are backed up somewhere other than on the shattered computer in the office.
She hears familiar voices outside. Chris has heard them too.
‘Shall we?’ Donna asks.
‘I suppose we’ll have to,’ says Chris.
Elizabeth and Joyce have been unable to get inside Kuldesh’s shop. The police tape was still wrapped across the front, and large boards had been nailed across the broken windows. This being Brighton, the boards had already been graffitied with the words WATCH CAPITALISM BURN and plastered with flyers for the seafront nightclubs. Elizabeth tries to get some purchase under one of the boards, but no luck.
‘You should have brought an axe,’ says Joyce. ‘I could just see you with an axe.’
‘Don’t be facetious, Joyce,’ says Elizabeth.
Joyce looks up and sees CCTV cameras.
‘CCTV cameras!’
‘Contain your excitement,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Anyone professional enough to kill a man with a single bullet through a car window is professional enough to disable a CCTV camera. We’re not dealing with children.’
Donna and Chris emerge from a side alley.
‘Can I help you, ladies?’ asks Donna. ‘We’re from the police, we investigate crime for a living, how lovely to meet you.’
‘Window shopping,’ explains Elizabeth.
‘Happy New Year!’ says Joyce. ‘Thank you for my brass dog, Donna.’
‘My pleasure,’ says Donna, then turns to Elizabeth. ‘I thought I was quite polite when I asked you to leave it to us? Polite for me at least?’
‘Impeccably polite,’ agrees Elizabeth. ‘I was very proud of you.’
‘And yet’ – Chris gestures to the two women, and to the ransacked shop – ‘here we all are.’
‘I realized I had never been to Kuldesh’s shop,’ says Elizabeth. ‘I thought I should put that right. Donna, you have been recently, of course, with Bogdan and Stephen. That was an unauthorized little adventure, so I thought I might have one of my own.’
‘I don’t think Stephen needs you to authorize his adventures,’ says Donna.
‘I meant you and Bogdan, dear,’ says Elizabeth.
‘I don’t think I need –’
‘And I do like antiques,’ says Joyce. ‘Gerry collected horseshoes. He had seven or eight of them by the end.’
‘Well, as ever, you seem to attract corpses,’ says Chris.
‘Always have,’ says Elizabeth. ‘They seem drawn to me. Any luck with the CCTV?’
‘Too early to tell,’ says Chris. ‘Also none of your business. Choose whichever answer you prefer.’
‘My view,’ says Joyce, ‘is that anyone professional enough to kill Kuldesh with a single gunshot in a country lane is also professional enough to disable the CCTV.’
‘That’s your view, is it, Joyce?’ asks Elizabeth.
Joyce is now staring at a colourful nightclub flyer pasted onto the wooden boards. ‘I wonder what “Ket Donk” is?’
‘I think there’s a café further down the road,’ says Chris. ‘You might like that.’
‘Ooh, a café,’ says Joyce.
‘We’re working, Chris,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Stephen’s friend has been murdered. You think you can palm us off with a café?’
‘We’re working too,’ says Chris. ‘It’s our actual job. I’m sure you understand.’
