Page 83 of The Hallmarked Man

‘I hope so,’ said Robin, drawing a business card out of her bag. ‘My name’s Robin Ellacott and I’m from the Strike and Ellacott Detective Agenc—’

‘Ay’ve got nothing to say!’ said Pamela loudly.

Recoiling, she bumped into a table laden with silver objects, and a fragile-looking horn cup in an elaborate silver casing fell to the ground. Pamela stood on it accidentally, and the horn shattered. She burst into tears.

Robin rushed to assist Pamela, who was groping for the pieces in a manner that suggested drunkenness, taking multiple attempts to place her hand on each piece.

‘Please leave!’ sobbed Pamela. ‘And close the door behaynd you! Ay havenothingto say to you!’

Robin turned, walked back to the shop entrance and did indeed close the door, but remained inside the fantastical silver storehouse, returning to Pamela to help her pick up all the bits of horn in silence. The shop owner seemed too distressed to care that Robin hadn’t followed her orders. She stumbled to a small desk, grabbed a handful of tissues from a silver box, dropped into her chair and cried.

Robin laid the shards of horn on the desk, feeling guilty and trying to project sympathy. After almost a minute’s weeping, Pamela said,

‘It’s may eyes! Ay had that laser eye surgery… and Ay can’tseeproperly… blurry… double vision… awful headaches…Ayneed may eyes!’ said Pamela hysterically. ‘And may husband…’

She didn’t finish the sentence, but continued to weep, the already dark grey tissues becoming darker with specks of mascara.

‘Could I – is there anywhere I could make you a tea, or a coffee?’ asked Robin.

Pamela didn’t answer, so Robin decided to explore for herself. There was a small kiosk-like structure in the corner of the shop that contained a coffee machine and mugs. Robin made two coffees, added a lot of sweetener to Pamela’s, then returned to the desk and sat down opposite her. Pamela sobbed for another minute until she came to a hiccoughing halt and reached for her mug. It took her two attempts to grasp the handle. She sipped the sweetened coffee, then whispered,

‘Thank you.’

‘Can’t they do anything, for your eyes?’ Robin asked, in genuine concern.

‘Ay’m traying to find someone… they said it would clear up and it hasn’t…’

‘When was the operation?’ asked Robin, surreptitiously turning her mobile to record, in her bag.

‘January… theheadaches…but Ay can’t stop work. It’s may own business!’

‘It’s an amazing shop,’ said Robin. ‘Bullen & Co’s a very old firm, isn’t it?’

‘F-four generations,’ hiccoughed Pamela. ‘May great-grandfather started it… but there are no Bullens left now. Ay couldn’t have children, and may – may nephew…’ She let out another sob. ‘Oh, we’ve all been through a dreadful tayme…’

Robin left a tactful pause before saying,

‘Mrs Bullen-Driscoll, we really do need an expert opinion. We know nothing about silver, you see.’

‘You want to t-talk about silver?’

‘Yes, if you wouldn’t mind. It would help to understand why the Murdoch silver was so significant and why someone would go to such lengths to steal it. Mr Ramsay says—’

‘Kenneth’s a fool!’ said Pamela, with sudden anger. ‘Anidiot! Ayhadno ideawhat he’d done! Ay’d have stopped him, but he didn’t tell me, didn’t tell may sister – he re-mortgaged their house, borrowed someexorbitantsum at aludicrousrate of interest, cashed in all their shares – may sister knew nothing,nothinguntil it was too late.Insanity!Ay could have told him his stupid scheme wouldn’t work!’

‘What sch—?’

‘He paidmuch morethan the Murdoch silver was worth –lunacy! He thought John Auclair – he’s a well-known collector – would come trotting along to his grotty little shop and give him half a million for it! Nobody in their raytemayndwould have paid that much for the stuff! Kenneth’s afool, an absolutefool!’

‘You didn’t think he’d make a profit on the collection, then?’ asked Robin.

‘Of course not!’ said Pamela impatiently. The Murdoch collection’s really only of interest to a narrow subset of people.’

‘You mean masons?’ asked Robin.

‘Yes. Well, not necessarilyonlymasons…’ The chance to talk about her specialist subject seemed to be soothing Pamela slightly. ‘A. H. Murdoch was quate a romantic figure, Ay suppose. One of those Victorian explorer taypes. Some of the pieces he collected had artistic merit on their own terms, but most of it – Skene’s dagger, and the Oriental Centrepiece, which quayte frankly is a monstrosity—’

‘That’s the piece that was delivered here, by mistake, isn’t it?’ said Robin.