by JD Nixon
“I presume both the duchy and the store took out extra insurance on the collection, Mrs Burwood?”
“Yes, yes, of course. But that’s not the issue. The necklace was exquisite and priceless. It’s humiliating to have it stolen from under our noses after we assured the duchy it would be safe in our hands. It was a genuine coup for us to convince them to lend it out. It took months of delicate negotiation. Now nobody will ever trust us with even the cheapest trinket after this. My reputation and the store’s reputation will be in tatters. We’ll never recover that trust again.” Her voice broke, verging on tears as she imagined years of dedicated service to her profession ruined overnight.
I felt very sorry for her. She was a conscientious woman, proud of her section. But now all she could see in her immediate future was uncertainty and ignominy. Instinctively, I put my arm around her, to offer her what comfort I could in this disastrous situation. It didn’t escape my notice that neither of her staff seemed prepared to provide any.
“I’m probably going to be fired over this,” Mrs Burwood said with quiet despair. She shot Collett a look of intense dislike. “You probably will be too.”
“What happened?” Jaegar asked, more curious than anxious.
“The necklace was stolen and replaced with a replica sometime last night,” Francine informed him tartly before Mrs Burwood could open her mouth.
“That’s impossible,” he said immediately.
“Shut up,” snapped Collett, pacing the small room. “I don’t know how the cameras were disabled. The controls for them are in my room.”
“They don’t need to reach the controls. Can someone get me something to stand on?” Farrell asked.
Mrs Burwood hurried out to do his bidding. But instead of bringing back the chair I expected, returned with a sensible set of sturdy steps. Farrell chose one of the cameras, ascended the steps, and scrutinised the piece of equipment for a careful five minutes. When he finished, he nodded with satisfaction.
“See here?” he pointed to the very rear of the camera, where it was wired into the wall. “I’m assuming these are temporary cameras set up for the display. This room is normally used for other things?”
Collett nodded, even more sullen, while Mrs Burwood contributed, “Yes, we normally use this room as a private space to discuss with couples their requirements for engagement and wedding rings.”
“Right. These cameras had to be wired into the mains and into the store’s IT system so they could be controlled and monitored through the security section. The installer has done their best to keep the vulnerability of the cameras to the barest minimum, but there’s still a small amount of wiring that remains accessible to people who know what they’re looking for.” He looked around at the rest of us. “These wires have been cut.”
“Let me see,” demanded Collett, almost pushing Farrell off the steps in his haste. “Well, I’ll be damned. Those bastards.”
“You should call the police immediately. This is a major crime and is now a police matter, not something to be dealt with internally. The insurance companies will demand to see police reports,” said Farrell.
“I’ll ring them,” offered Mrs Burwood.
“No, I will,” Collett said brusquely, thumping out of the room in a bad mood.
“You should also cancel the public viewing today,” Farrell told Mrs Burwood. “The police will be all over this room anyway. You and your staff should make yourselves available for police interviews. Don’t go anywhere without telling someone where you are. Chalmers and I will stick around until we’re interviewed and allowed to go. There’s not much we can do here today.”
Mrs Burwood clasped his hand. “Thank you, Mr Farrell. I really appreciate you giving us so much good advice. I’ll be mentioning this to your employer.”
She left to organise a sign for the front of the store advising of the closure of the display for the day. Francine and Jaegar drifted away also.
“Outside, Chalmers. None of us should be in here any longer, though we’ve probably already compromised the scene. But at least we can ensure nobody else enters the room again until the police show up.”
“Okey-dokey.”
“Nobody’s allowed back in that room. Nobody. Got it?”
“Absolutely. Gotcha.”
Each member of the jewellery section staff tried to re-enter the room again during the next couple of hours, but we repelled them all. The store manager threw an unattractive tantrum in front of us when he barged down, demanding we get out of his way.
“I’m sorry, sir,” repeated Farrell patiently for the fourth time, barring his way. “Nobody can enter until the police arrive and then it’s up to them to decide who can and who can’t enter the room. And I have a feeling they won’t be as tactful about it as I’m being.”
Defeated, he stormed off, throwing a few expletives over his shoulder at us, something which shocked the jewellery staff. Mrs Burwood hurried over.
“I do apologise for such uncouth behaviour. It’s not how we behave in this store. I can only imagine he’s quite stressed at the moment, as are we all. Normally he’s the very model of rectitude.”
Or maybe he’s just good at hiding exactly what an arsehole he is, I thought to myself.
The police arrived in a troop – a team of detectives, a uniformed officer for crowd control, and a small forensics team. Like most security managers, Collett probably had developed a relationship with the police over the years. I imagined they were called out regularly for dealing with shoplifters and the occasional pilfering staff member.
We shook hands with them, Farrell explaining the crime in more detail in his efficient, no-nonsense way. He advised them we were available for interviewing whenever it suited them. That was all he was able to say before Collett butted in, corralling the detectives and repeating everything Farrell had just said.
Mrs Burwood offered us a couple of chairs to sit on while we waited for the detectives. Farrell whipped out his phone and spent some time briefing Clive on the situation. I grew bored quickly, having nothing to do, so I browsed the jewellery counters, admiring some of the very expensive and beautiful pieces on display.
I eventually tired of that, and not wanting to get in the way while Mrs Burwood served customers, I returned to Farrell. Mrs Burwood glanced around her, peevish that both of her staff seemed to have disappeared, leaving her by herself at the counter.
I indicated to Farrell, who was still on the phone, through some fairly inventive mime moves, that I was going to the ladies.
On the way there, I noticed Francine and Jaegar standing in a small alcove having what appeared to me to be a fierce whispered quarrel. I watched them for a few moments, puzzled. Francine seemed a little cowed, Jaegar the one doing most of the arguing. They’d told me how much they disliked each other, so what would they have to say that required such privacy? Perhaps they were blaming each other for the theft of the necklace?
They were still at it when I returned from the ladies. Francine now looked as though she was beseeching Jaegar, her face plaintive. Because it was decidedly odd behaviour, I decided to mention it to Farrell. I trusted in his instinct to know whether something was meaningful or not.
They sprang apart when I approached them, as though I’d caught them doing something obscene. Jaegar pursed his lips, irritated by my interruption, while Francine seemed grateful for the chance to escape from him.
“The police have arrived. They’ll want to interview both of you soon. You should make yourselves available,” I told them, adding a less than subtle hint. “Also, Mrs Burwood appears to be struggling on the counter by herself. She could probably do with some help.”
They abandoned me without a word. Back with Farrell, I sat next to him, telling him in a quiet voice what I’d just witnessed.
“Should anyone make anything of a couple of workmates having a tiff on the job?” he asked. “Sounds like a normal day for them from what they told you about their relationship.”
“
The discussion seemed really intense and heated. Why didn’t they just have it out in front of Mrs Burwood like they usually do? Why go off somewhere private to have an argument?”
“I don’t know. Are you attaching any significance to it?”
“I’m not sure. It’s just that it rankles with me, especially after they both made a point of telling me how much they couldn’t stand each other. I think I’ll mention it to the detectives when they interview me. I’ll let them discover the significance, if any.”
“Tell them everything, no matter how unimportant it seems to you.” He appraised me with those lovely grey eyes. “You know, you’re much more observant than you probably give yourself credit for being.”
That made me sit up taller and prouder. It wasn’t often I earned a compliment from him. “Thanks, Hugh. Do you really think so?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
Time ticked by with excruciating slowness. The detectives didn’t appear to be in any hurry to interview anyone, still examining the crime scene.
It had been difficult for Farrell and me not to overhear Mrs Burwood reprimanding her staff for their disappearing act. She huffed off leaving them in charge while she went in search of an early lunch. Francine and Jaegar were kept busy with a steady stream of customers, each taking a while to serve.
One of the detectives finally reappeared, choosing Francine to interview first. I didn’t miss the glance loaded with trepidation she exchanged with Jaegar as she followed the detective up to Collett’s office.
“Did you see that?” I whispered to Farrell.
“If you mean that glance, I did.”
“What’s that about? They’re supposed to loathe each other. Why would she be nervous about being interviewed? And why would she let him know she’s nervous?”
“Because they’re trying to keep their stories straight and he doesn’t trust her to be consistent? That’s the only thing I can think of at the moment.”
“I’ll definitely be mentioning all this to the detectives.”
He checked his watch. “At the rate they’re going, we’ll still be here at midnight.”
I slouched back in my chair and stretched my legs out in front, crossing my ankles and arms. “Perhaps if we look really bored they might take pity on us?”
He snorted. “Right, because detectives are so accommodating to people’s schedules.”
I smiled wryly. “Guess not.”
Lunchtime came. Francine still hadn’t returned from the interview and I wondered what kind of grilling they were subjecting her to. Her story was surely no more exciting than Mrs Burwood’s or mine. Unless what Farrell had said was true.
Mrs Burwood was back on the counter, but once again she was by herself. On my way to hunt down some lunch for Farrell and me, I stopped for a moment to ask her where Jaegar was, positive I hadn’t missed the detectives summoning him upstairs.
“He went to the bathroom,” she replied, distracted by new customers.
I wandered around the shopping centre for a while trying to find something I felt like eating, finally settling on sushi for both of us. I’d never seen Farrell eating sushi before, but it was about time he tried it if he hadn’t already.
I hummed on my way back to the store, gazing at the shops as I walked, not in any hurry. The detectives wouldn’t want me for ages. I stopped for a second in surprise when I spotted a man in front of me who I could have sworn was Jaegar.
No, I told myself, he’s probably back with Mrs Burwood by now.
Cursing my curiosity, I hastened after the man, speeding up until I was level with him. It was Jaegar, determinedly heading for the exit at a rapid pace.
“Hello,” I said, making him jump. “You look like you’re in a hurry.”
Annoyance crossed his face and stayed there. “I don’t have a long lunch break. I wanted to have a quick smoke. Any other questions?”
“No, but the detectives are sure to have some. You shouldn’t have left the store, particularly as Mrs Burwood believes you’ve gone to the bathroom.”
“I couldn’t tell her I needed to duck out for a smoke, could I? So I told her I was going to the bathroom. Now, can you leave me alone? You’re really starting to get on my nerves.”
“I just want to make sure you’re available to speak to the detectives when they’re ready for you, which can’t be too long away.”
“Why don’t you just toddle off back to the store and tell everyone I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”
“Because I’m beginning to think you’re pissing off so you don’t have to be interviewed.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I am nervous about talking to the detectives. If they run a check on me, they’ll find out I had a very badly misspent youth. I was charged with some minor drug offences and a couple of shoplifting incidents. And I assaulted some guy in a pub when I was underaged. I lied about all that on my job application because I’ve sorted out my life since then. I don’t want to be penalised for the stupid decisions I made when I was younger. You know how judgemental cops are.”
Though that made a lot of sense to me, it was ridiculous of him to think he could escape being interviewed. “You don’t really have a choice about it. Trying to avoid speaking to the detectives will just set off red flags. You just need to get it over and done with.”
“You’re right. That’s exactly what I should do. But guess what? I’m not going to.”
He shouldered me violently in the chest, knocking me flying backwards, and sprinting for the exit. Containers of sushi split open, rice, nori and seafood spilling across the floor.
Comprehensively winded, I let a couple of passing shoppers help me to my feet, tutting over the rudeness of the young gentleman. I spared only a second to thank them, ignoring the mess as I tore off after him. I pulled out my phone and tried to ring Farrell while it bounced around with each step.
He assumed I’d rung about lunch. “I don’t care what you get, as long as it’s not sushi. Can’t stand the stuff.”
“Forget your stomach. Jaegar is heading for the exit. He just knocked me over when I asked him too many questions. Mrs Burwood told me he was just going to the bathroom.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just let the detectives know he’s running away from being interviewed.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Where exactly are you?”
I itched to be chasing after Jaegar, but wanted some manpower behind me. My arm with the worst cuts took the brunt of my weight when I fell, the dull ache I’d been feeling now sharply intense. I didn’t want to risk testing its strength on someone who may be as desperate as Jaegar.
Farrell jogged up a couple of minutes later, the detectives with him.
“He’s probably reached his car by now and is long gone,” I lamented. “We’ll never find him. Or the necklace.”
“We know where he lives,” grunted one of the detectives, a little out of breath. less fit than he ought to be.
“Chalmers, you go back to the store while we search the carpark.”
“No! I’m coming with you. Four sets of eyes are better than three.”
“Just let her come with us,” said the other detective impatiently. “I’m not standing here all day trying to argue with a woman.”
“Thank you,” I said to him with exaggerated politeness. “Do you know his number plate?”
“The store keeps a record of the licence plate of every staff member who drives to work as parking for staff is restricted.” He recited the make, model and number plate.
“That’s a flashy car for a shop assistant,” muttered one of the detectives enviously.
In the carpark, we agreed to raise our hand if we found his car. Farrell led us to the staff parking area and we split up, slowly jogging past each car, scanning plates.
I spotted a car matching the description rapidly reversing one row away from me. I waved my arm wildly. “Hey! Hey!” I yelled out to t
he men. “Over here! He’s heading for the boom gate.”
Everyone came running. At the boom gate, Jaegar was caught behind a flustered driver who couldn’t work out the system for exiting the carpark. Even from where we stood we could hear the abusive language he shouted at the unfortunate woman, which only served to render her more flustered.
“Got him,” smiled one of the detectives, breaking into a run.
Seeing his opportunity for escape evaporating, Jaegar flung open the door. Abandoning his car, he bounded off, arms pumping, towards the road adjoining the carpark. Unfortunately for him, he ran past Farrell who tackled him to the ground after a short chase.
The detectives rushed over, dragging him to his feet. His suit was filthy, his cheek, forehead and hands badly grazed.
“How about that interview now, sonny?” asked one of the detectives in a voice tired with the effort of having to regularly deal with the worst that humanity offered.
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Jaegar insisted, struggling slightly.
“I don’t know about you, matey, but when a person makes a blatant attempt to avoid being interviewed, that never screams innocent to me.”
“I don’t have anything to hide.”
“Except maybe some information about a valuable necklace?”
They frogmarched him back to the store, Farrell and I following at a more leisurely pace after he moved Jaegar’s car. Back at the jewellery counter, Mrs Burwood had placed a ‘closed’ sign on each counter and tried to console a wildly weeping Francine.
“What’s the matter with her?” asked Farrell.
Francine lifted her head and tried to explain to him, but was crying so much that she was completely inarticulate.
Farrell shrugged, turning to Mrs Burwood instead.
“It’s hard to say, but I think it has something to do with Jaegar disappearing,” she said, her brows almost touching in puzzlement.
“Francine,” I said loudly, capturing her attention. “The detectives are bringing in Jaegar for questioning now.”
“Wh-what?”
“He was leaving the shopping centre so he wouldn’t be interviewed. Do you know anything about that?”
