Page 33 of The Hallmarked Man (Cormoran Strike #8)

They watched Wright lift the smallest crate and stand waiting for Pamela to reappear. When she’d come back upstairs, Wright headed down to the basement, and Pamela made a call on her mobile.

‘We’ll see the result of Pamela’s call at a quarter to four,’ said Strike, pressing fast forward again.

A blonde woman entered the shop and began darting between cabinets.

In double-quick time, Wright lifted one of the medium-sized crates and hurried off towards the vault with it.

The blonde customer spoke to Pamela, who donned white gloves to open a cabinet.

While she was showing the customer indistinguishable small objects, Wright reappeared and took the third crate down to the basement.

At 15.47, yet another man appeared in the shop. He was balding, almost spherical in shape, wearing a backpack, and also appeared to be wearing overalls. Strike hit pause.

‘That’s Jim Todd, the cleaner.’

‘How d’you know?’

‘Because when I spoke to him, he assumed I already knew he’d been summoned to the shop by Pamela, because Wright needed help getting the biggest crate down to the vault.

Todd cleans for a local office on Friday afternoons, so he was in the vicinity.

Pamela pressured him into leaving early and helping her out. ’

‘He doesn’t look the heavy-lifting type,’ said Robin.

‘You’d be right about that,’ said Strike, pressing play again. ‘Watch.’

Wright, who’d just returned from the vault, joined Todd in lifting the largest crate, though Todd was clearly struggling to support the weight of it, and they edged, crab-like, towards the stairs to the vault and disappeared.

Pamela was still busy with the blonde customer.

Strike pressed fast forward. Wright returned to the shop floor alone.

‘I think Todd’s having a minor heart attack downstairs,’ said Strike. ‘Keep watching.’

The blonde customer was still making her choice of purchase, and Robin remembered the little silver orb charm she’d liked. Todd finally reappeared, massaging his chest. The blonde left the shop. Pamela descended the stairs to the vault alone.

‘This,’ said Strike, ‘will be when Pamela started prising off crate lids and realised part of the delivery’s got mixed up… she comes back upstairs…’

Pamela returned to the shop floor, holding unidentifiable objects in her arms.

‘The “minor items” Pamela bid on, that should have gone to Bullen his leg was still sore and he’d been counting on an afternoon with his partner, hoping, however over-optimistically, that he might get a chance to declare himself, but Shanker rarely got in touch without having something that was worth hearing.

‘All right,’ Strike said reluctantly. ‘Give me an hour.’

‘Falcon pub,’ said Shanker, and hung up.

‘What does he want?’ asked Robin.

‘To meet,’ said Strike. ‘Now.’

‘Why?’

‘Maybe he’s found out Dredge the drug-dealer did have Rupert Fleetwood murdered in the silver vault?’

‘So the case might be wrapped up by teatime?’ said Robin, conscious of a faint disappointment, because she, too, had been looking forward to an afternoon together.

‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ said Strike, hoping he was right. He needed this case.

‘I like your shirt, by the way,’ Robin said. ‘Is it new?’

‘It is, yeah,’ said Strike. ‘Thanks.’

Feeling slightly more cheerful, he headed into the outer office to fetch his coat.