‘It then seems that Kuldesh decided to take matters into his own hands and sell the heroin himself,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Did they mention that in the
‘They did not,’ says Samantha. ‘Do you know who he sold it to?’
‘That’s why we’re here,’ says Joyce. ‘This Battenberg is terrific by the way, is it M & S?’
‘My husband, Garth, made it,’ says Samantha.
‘He’s a whizz,’ says Joyce. ‘We’re not here to pry into your business, or accuse you of this, that or the other. It just seems that you own a small antiques shop –’
‘And yet you make an awful lot of money,’ says Ibrahim.
‘And so it occurred to us,’ continues Joyce, ‘admittedly via Elizabeth, that you might be a good person to consult on the subject of where antiques and crime collide. Does that sound a reasonable assumption?’
‘I’m sure I don’t know what you’re driving at,’ says Samantha. ‘But I could offer an amateur insight, if you think it might help?’
‘Simply that,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Another pair of eyes.’
‘If you were to come into possession of a large amount of heroin –’ asks Joyce.
‘How large?’ interrupts Samantha.
‘A hundred thousand pounds’ worth, or so,’ says Joyce. ‘Who might you think of selling it to? Are there shadowy figures you can call?’
‘Not off the top of my head,’ said Samantha.
‘There is a suggestion,’ says Ibrahim. ‘And only a suggestion, that if Kuldesh were of a mind to sell the heroin, he might call you.’
‘Indeed?’ says Samantha, sipping her tea. ‘And where does this suggestion spring from?’
‘Kuldesh made a call to an untraceable number,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Shortly before he passed away. And, for reasons best known to yourself, perfectly innocent, I’m sure, you yourself have an untraceable number. So, with that in mind, we wondered if you might be the shadowy figure we seek?’
‘Mmm,’ says Samantha. ‘That’s quite a leap. And a slanderous one at that.’
‘How do you make your money?’ Joyce asks, blowing on her tea to cool it down. ‘If you don’t mind me being nosy?’
‘Antiques,’ says Samantha.
‘We were looking at your house on Google,’ says Joyce. ‘There must be an awful lot of money in hat stands.’
‘I shall be doing some Googling of my own when you leave,’ says Samantha.
‘Any sidelines?’ asks Ibrahim.
‘I teach line dancing at the Seniors’ Club,’ says Samantha. ‘Unpaid though.’
‘Anyway,’ says Joyce, her tea finally cool enough to take a sip. ‘Heroin.’
The shop door opens, and a large man in a padded jacket and woolly hat fills the open doorway and then stoops inside.
‘Garth, darling,’ says Samantha. ‘This is Joyce and Ibrahim.’
‘And Alan,’ says Joyce.
Garth looks at Joyce and Ibrahim, expressionless, then looks back at Samantha, and shrugs. Alan makes a beeline for this exciting new man, but if Garth even notices Alan jumping up at him he doesn’t show it.
‘We hear this is your Battenberg,’ says Joyce, cake fork in hand. ‘It really is delicious.’
‘Stoneground flour,’ says Garth.
‘Garth, dearest,’ says Samantha. ‘Joyce here was just wondering who might buy a hundred thousand pounds’ worth of heroin?’
Garth looks directly at Joyce. ‘You’re selling heroin?’
‘No,’ giggles Joyce. ‘A friend of ours. Though give it a couple of years and I wouldn’t put it past us.’
‘Someone got himself killed,’ says Samantha. ‘Some deal or other gone wrong. The heroin went missing, and we’re being canvassed for our expert opinion.’
‘Don’t know nuthin’ about it,’ says Garth. ‘Funny question for a Thursday.’
‘Isn’t it?’ says Samantha.
Alan is absolutely infuriated that Garth won’t pay him attention. He’s bringing out every trick he has, but Garth won’t even look at him. Garth is thinking, like a mighty super-computer blinking into life. He fixes Joyce with a stare.
‘You know where the heroin is now, old lady?’
‘Joyce,’ says Joyce. ‘But no. Floating around somewhere. I suppose someone must have it. Someone must, mustn’t they? Wouldn’t you say, Garth?’
‘It’ll be somewhere, for sure,’ says Garth. ‘You got any idea? You got an inkling?’
‘Who would you call, Garth?’ asks Joyce. ‘If you suddenly had a box full of heroin in your drawer?’
‘I would call the police,’ says Garth, then nods to Samantha. ‘Wouldn’t I, honey?’
‘Anything illegal,’ agrees Samantha. ‘Straight to the police. Trust them with our lives.’ Joyce sips her tea.
‘Do you suppose you’re close to finding the heroin?’ asks Samantha. ‘Another cup of tea, Joyce?’
‘I don’t have the bladder for two cups of tea these days,’ says Joyce. ‘I used to be a camel in that respect.’
‘We will find it,’ says Ibrahim. ‘I remain confident of that. If you want my considered opinion –’
Garth, still being leaped at by Alan, turns away from Ibrahim and addresses Joyce. ‘This dog is a million bucks, by the way.’
‘You can stroke him if you’d like?’ says Joyce. ‘He’s called Alan.’
Garth shakes his head. ‘You gotta play hard to get with dogs. They gotta earn it off you.’
‘Absolutely,’ says Ibrahim, surreptitiously putting a Polo mint back into his pocket.
