‘They talk about provenance a lot on
‘Meaning, is this stolen?’ asks Elizabeth.
‘Is it stolen?’ says Nina. ‘Is it too good to be true? What is it doing in England? Any time something didn’t seem right, he knew he could call on me. What does the law say? That’s one of my areas. And he trusts me. Trusts I would never tell.’
‘And how often were things not quite right?’
Nina smiles. ‘My parents were both dealers, Elizabeth. Unsuccessful ones. Far too honest. The world of antiques and antiquities is not always squeaky clean. My parents knew it, I know it, Kuldesh knows it.’
‘Knew it,’ says Elizabeth.
‘Oh, God, yes,’ says Nina. ‘Poor Kuldesh. Sorry.’
‘What did you speak about on the day he died?’
‘How do you know we spoke?’
‘We’re not always squeaky clean either,’ says Joyce.
‘But I promise we are friends,’ says Elizabeth. ‘And I promise we are not the police.’
‘Then who are you?’
‘We’re the Thursday Murder Club,’ says Joyce. ‘But we don’t have time to go into all that now, because we have to get the 4.15 train.’
Nina puffs out her cheeks. ‘Kuldesh asked how I was, we made small talk, I was in a hurry, I wish I hadn’t been now, so he got to the point and he said he had a problem I could perhaps help him with.’
‘A problem?’ says Elizabeth. ‘Those were his words?’
Nina thinks for a moment. ‘A dilemma, that’s what he said. A dilemma. He needed advice.’
‘Any sense of what the dilemma might have been?’
Nina shakes her head.
‘And if you had to guess?’
‘Here are the things it would normally be. Someone has brought in a piece Kuldesh knows is stolen. Should he buy it anyway?’
‘No,’ says Joyce.
‘Someone has brought in a valuable piece, and has no idea of the value. Should Kuldesh let them know what they have?’
‘Yes,’ says Joyce.
‘Or someone has asked Kuldesh to sell something, or to store something, and to keep it off the books.’
‘Money laundering,’ says Joyce. ‘Well, we know all about that.’
‘Do you now?’ says Nina.
‘And what did your instincts tell you this time?’ asks Elizabeth.
‘He’d never sounded quite like this before,’ says Nina. ‘So whatever it was, was serious.’
‘Or valuable,’ says Elizabeth.
‘Or valuable,’ agrees Nina. ‘But, if you want my instinct, I would say he was scared and excited.’
‘Like Alan when he sees a cow,’ says Joyce.
‘I suppose,’ says Nina. ‘It was more, “What have I got myself into?” than “You’ll never guess what I’ve just bought.”’
‘That’s very helpful, Nina,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Have you ever taken heroin, I wonder?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Heroin? Have you ever taken it? I notice you have a purple streak in your hair, perhaps you enjoy an alternative lifestyle?’
‘She’s charming, your friend,’ says Nina to Joyce.
‘She doesn’t understand fashion,’ says Joyce.
‘You think heroin was involved?’ Nina asks.
‘We think a man called Dominic Holt left a parcel of heroin at Kuldesh’s shop on the morning of the day he died,’ says Elizabeth.
‘Oh, Kuldesh,’ says Nina, and slumps a little in her chair.
‘Under sufferance, we think,’ says Elizabeth. ‘But, yes, even so.’
‘The next morning,’ says Joyce, ‘another man comes to pick up the parcel, but Kuldesh is nowhere to be seen.’
‘Kuldesh stole the heroin?’ asks Nina. ‘He wouldn’t be so stupid. Impossible, sorry. Impossible.’
‘And yet he was shot dead,’ says Elizabeth. ‘After having spoken to you, and, who knows, perhaps even arranging to meet you? And the missing heroin has yet to be found.’
‘So it does look a bit suspicious,’ says Joyce.
‘He didn’t arrange to meet you?’ asks Elizabeth.
‘No,’ says Nina. ‘Perhaps he said, “I’ll see you soon,” nothing more than that.’
‘And he didn’t mention the heroin to you?’ asks Elizabeth.
‘Heroin? Of course not,’ says Nina. ‘He would have known what my reaction would be.’
‘You wouldn’t have been tempted to make a bit of money?’ Joyce asks.
‘No one would blame you,’ says Elizabeth. ‘You were the first person he rang, so no one else would ever find out?’
‘I thought you said you weren’t the police?’ says Nina.
There is a quiet knock at the door, and Nina tells the visitor to come in. A slightly stooped, balding man who could be anywhere between mid forties and late sixties enters the room. His entrance, like his knock, carries an air of apology.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘You summoned me, m’lady?’
‘This is Professor Mellor,’ says Nina Mishra. ‘He’s, how would you describe it, Jonjo?’
‘Sort of your boss?’ suggests Jonjo.
‘How lovely to meet you, Professor Mellor,’ says Joyce, standing. ‘I’m Joyce, and this is Elizabeth, who is also sort of my boss.’
Professor Mellor nods to Elizabeth, who nods back, and takes a seat.
‘We have a “once a week”,’ says Nina. ‘In the department. Share our worries. And, I hope you don’t mind, but I shared my worries with Jonjo. He does advisory work with some of the local auction houses.’
‘Military mainly,’ says Jonjo.
‘So someone else
‘I just thought he might be useful,’ says Nina.
