by Adam Carter
It only occurred to me then I could have just asked him back at the museum and he may well have told me. Holbrook was right; I search so much for the worst in people, I invariably find it.
Gathering up some paperwork, I headed out to find Holbrook. I had a message that she had returned with Shoreham and was waiting for me. I went to the custody desk and saw a young man sitting nervously in one of the nearby chairs. He was about eighteen, nineteen, with the tall wiriness left over from his teenage years. He was dressed in the same uniform as Harkett, but I didn’t need that to know this was Benny Shoreham.
“You set?” Holbrook asked, coming up behind me without me noticing. Shoreham looked up at that point and saw me. He did not look happy to be there and I could all but smell his guilt.
“Sure,” I said and the three of us walked into an interview room.
I’ve always liked interview rooms. Their stark walls and lack of windows suck dry any ounce of personality or knowledge of the passage of time. They’re like the casinos in Las Vegas, purposefully designed to make you sit at the blackjack table for a few hands, not realising four hours have passed by.
Shoreham sat opposite us without a solicitor – he was not under arrest, so didn’t need one. That was not to say he could not have had one had he asked, but it wasn’t a point I intended to raise with him.
“You want something to drink?” I asked, offering him a cordial smile.
“I’m good.”
“I’m not sure anyone’s good,” I replied as I sat. “I was just a little while ago telling my colleague there’s a little bad in all of us.”
“And,” Holbrook said, not happy with my manner, “a little good.”
I shrugged but gave no verbal response.
“Benny,” she said, “this is Detective Blake.”
“Charmed,” I said.
“You mind if we ask you a few questions about the diamond?” Holbrook asked.
“That’s why I’m here.”
“How long have you worked at the museum, Benny?”
“Not long. About two weeks.”
“Do you like it?”
He shrugged. I leaned back and allowed Holbrook to lead the interrogation. I knew I tended to come across in a heavy-handed manner, but Holbrook was always my good cop.
“What’s your job at the museum?” she asked.
“I clean.”
“Clean what?”
“The floors.”
“You don’t have anything to do with the upkeep of the exhibits?”
He seemed to realise why she was asking for a distinction. “No. I don’t restore or clean anything. Just throw soapy water over the floor and mop it around a bit.”
I grunted. It was such a technical science. I could see why he hadn’t set his sights higher when he left school. Holbrook glowered at me. We’d had this conversation before. She’s of the opinion that so long as someone’s hard-working, it doesn’t matter what job they have. I’m more of a guy who measures success in a man’s achievements. I’ve put away dozens of kids just like Benny Shoreham and in a heartbeat I’d put him away as well.
“When did you last see the diamond?” Holbrook asked.
“The day it vanished. Maybe four, five hours before.”
“So you have seen it then?”
“Sure I’ve seen it.”
“Do you pay much attention to the exhibits?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Some of them.”
“Can you tell me about any of the paintings hanging on the walls in the same room the diamond was kept?”
“No. Why would I look at paintings?” He seemed confused, but I could see in his eyes he knew he was being accused.
“What interested you about the diamond then?” Holbrook asked.
“You kidding me? That thing was massive. The way they had it in that case, it caught the light and shone like a little star. It made me think of those films, you know, where the jewel thief drops in on a wire and the entire room is filled with lines of light.”
“You know a lot about being a jewel thief?” I asked, deciding that was a bad cop sort of question.
“No,” he said too quickly. “Just what I see in the films.”
“So,” I continued, “you used to stand before the diamond, fantasising about the best way to steal it?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Sure was.”
“Well it’s not what I meant, then.”
I sat back again, folded my arms and let Holbrook take over.
“What made you take a job in the museum?” she asked.
“It came up. I figured I’d give it a few months while I found something better.”
“Does it pay well?”
“No.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
Shoreham looked at her as though she was an idiot. “Of course I don’t enjoy it.”
“Well,” Holbrook said, showing him a smile, “now we’ve finished the nasty business of accusing you, we should move onto accusing other people. Have you seen anyone hanging around the diamond?”
“No.”
“What do you think about Harkett?”
“Old Harkett? Nothing. Why? You think he stole it?” Shoreham laughed. “He’d take a bullet for that place. He wouldn’t steal a pencil, let alone a diamond.”
“Anyone else you could put in the frame?”
I knew precisely what Holbrook was doing because I’d used the same tactic myself on numerous occasions. She was allowing Shoreham the opportunity to drop someone else in it. If he seized that opportunity, it likely meant he was guilty.
Unfortunately, Shoreham was either innocent or too stupid to pick up on the hint.
“No,” he said. “I have no idea who stole it.”
“Then there’s not much more we need you for, Benny,” Holbrook said. “Thanks for coming. If we need anything else, we’ll let you know.”
“There was one thing,” he said quickly. I found it strange he should look so anxious now that we had told him we were done with him. Nor could I believe he had just thought of something, which meant whatever he was about to say was pre-planned. He had been waiting for us to get it out of him, but now the interview was over he was all but blurting out his information.
“Go on,” Holbrook said.
“There was a woman who came three days in a row to see the Teardrop.”
“There must have been a lot of people through that museum. What made her stand out specifically?”
“You really want a guy to answer that?”
I grunted again. What he was saying actually sounded plausible, but it did not mean I liked it any better.
“What did she look like?” Holbrook asked.
“She was in her thirties, I’d say. Short, with curly red hair. I spoke to her on the third day, asked her what she liked about the diamond.”
“What did she say?”
“No idea. I wasn’t listening to her.”
I grunted yet again but this time Holbrook agreed with me.
“I got her name, though,” Shoreham persisted. “She said her name was Shenna.”
I did not mean to react, but there was nothing which could have stopped me. I bolted upright, my arms uncrossed, and I stared wordlessly across the table at Shoreham. He visibly recoiled at my reaction and I could see genuine fear to his eyes. But he said nothing more and there was nothing I myself had to say to him on the matter.
“I see,” Holbrook said as though the name had not affected her at all. “Did you get a surname?”
“No.”
“I don’t suppose you got her number?”
This time I snorted. “Leave off, did he.” Shoving my seat back, I rose and left the interview room. I did not share parting words with Shoreham: there was little point in antagonising the situation. Nothing was being recorded, so I wouldn’t have anything to explain to my superiors afterwards. I just needed to get away from Benny Shoreham, Jane Holbrook and anyone else.
Leaving the
station, I walked to the railing overlooking the parking area. My mind was a haze, with too many conflicting emotions charging through me. Shoreham was lying, I knew he was lying. There was no way Shenna could be involved in this, no way she would have come back into my life in this way. It had been so long since I had seen her, so long since I had admitted to myself I even wanted to see her again.
But Shoreham’s mention of her made me understand that I did want to, and I felt a thrill run through me that Shenna could have been somehow involved. She was the perfect suspect, of course she was, and even seeing her again in this capacity would have been better than nothing. Better, perhaps. Shenna Tarin in her prime was truly a marvel to behold.
“You all right?”
I did not turn at Holbrook’s voice. “You get rid of Shoreham?”
“He’s gone, yes.” She spoke calmly and I knew she understood entirely what I was thinking. “There’s more than one Shenna in the world, by the way.”
“It’s not the most common of names.”
“Nor is it unique.”
“It’s her. Shoreham’s talking about her, all right.”
“He could be lying.”
“He could be telling the truth.”
She positioned herself against the railing beside me, leaning into it and gazing out into nothingness just as I was doing. “If it is Shenna, why would she tell Shoreham her name the day before she stole the thing?”
That was true. I clearly wasn’t thinking straight if I hadn’t even seen that much.
“Still,” I said, “he didn’t pick the name out of nowhere.”
“Maybe he knows something about you. Maybe he’s playing you.”
I looked upon her with a frown and could see her worry.
“Matthew, I’m scared for you. If someone’s been digging around your past … well, people don’t do that without reason. I don’t know whether Shoreham’s involved, whether he’s just picked up something someone wanted him to pick up, or whether Shenna really is behind all of this. But whatever the truth, I think you’re in trouble here.”
“I’m always in trouble, Jane. Don’t worry about me so much.”
“If I didn’t worry about you, who else would? You never take care of yourself.”
“Never learned how to.”
“Stop joking with me.”
That tone of Holbrook’s voice was something I never argued with. It was the reason I always thought it was a shame she had never tried motherhood.
“Shenna Tarin means more to you than all these half-rumours,” she said.
“Meant.”
“Means.”
I ignored her.
“There’s only one way we can be sure whether she’s involved,” Holbrook continued.
“And what’s that?”
“Ask her.”
I laughed, then realised she was being serious.
“I can’t talk to Shenna,” I said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Why not?”
“You know why not. If people started connecting us, I’d be in trouble.”
“That was a long time ago, Matthew.”
I did not reply to that. My relationship with Shenna Tarin was something I looked back on fondly, but it was also firmly in the past. Dredging up history was never a good idea, but I had no doubt she had been the Shenna Shoreham had mentioned; and that meant I needed to get to her before anyone else did.
“I’ll talk with her,” I said, reaching my decision.
“First you have to find her.”
“That won’t be a problem, Jane. I know precisely where she lives.”
Holbrook looked at me quizzically. “You never let go, did you?”
That was a question I decided to ignore. At least until it was asked across the desk in an interview room.
CHAPTER FIVE
Walking back into Shenna’s life after so long was weird for both of us. I didn’t call ahead, didn’t make any contact at all before knocking on her door. Shenna Tarin lived in a nice house with a spacious front garden and a lot of privacy. It was not the abode of a millionaire, but certainly Shenna must have been doing all right with herself. What type of work she had been doing since we parted company, I had no idea. I knew where she lived, but that was more so I could avoid her, not because I was stalking her. As I knocked on her door, I almost hoped she wasn’t in; but when the door opened and I saw her for the first time in five years, I no longer cared about the missing diamond. Shenna Tarin was even more beautiful than I remembered. Short of stature, with a hardy, muscular frame without sacrificing any of her femininity, Shenna Tarin remained a goddess. Her large brown eyes were liquid pools of chocolate, her curly red locks framing her cherubic, rounded face in such a way it was though an angel was leaping through a hoop of fire. She was dressed in jogging bottoms and a blouse, which was Shenna all over. Her pert nose wrinkled slightly as she recognised me, although her eyes flared with a passion she could not hide.
“Matthew Blake,” she said dryly. “It’s been a while.”
“Five years too long, Shen.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Uh, no.”
“So this isn’t business. You mean the great Detective Blake has condescended to pay me a personal visit?”
I looked away, embarrassed. “Actually, I …”
She released an exaggerated sigh. “Should have known. Come on in, then.”
She walked away from the door, leaving it open. I felt ashamed for having gone to her with accusations. We did not exactly part on bad terms, but at the time I didn’t get the impression she wanted me to pop by for a chat any time soon. As the weeks turned to months and the months to years, I lost myself in my work and promised myself I would look in on Shenna soon. As with most good intentions, soon never came.
Stepping through the doorway, I closed it behind me and wiped my feet on her welcome mat. Her hallway was small, decorated with a single picture of a lion and furnished with a rack upon which shoes and an umbrella rested. I removed my shoes and added them to the rack. Just because I hadn’t spoken to Shenna in five years, it didn’t mean I didn’t respect her.
I followed her to the living room, which was far homelier than I would have expected. There was a large settee and a couple of matching comfortable chairs. The carpet was thick, while what appeared to be a real fireplace sat dormant in the hearth. There were a few cabinets and chests, with an antique tea set on a table beside a chair. There was clutter, but in Shenna’s natural way it was still tidy. Glancing about the walls, I found several original paintings, while the mantelpiece was filled with brass antiques.
“The paintings aren’t stolen,” she said as she sank into one of the comfortable chairs. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”
I had actually been looking for evidence she had got on with her life, but there were no pictures of men. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that but forced myself not to think too much about it at all.
“Nice house,” I said. “Cosy.”
“I know. You didn’t come here to tell me I had a nice house.”
“No. We had a guy down at the station. He …”
“I’m good, thanks. How are you?”
I bit my lower lip, wishing I wasn’t feeling quite so shaky. “Sorry, Shen. I’m glad you’re good. I’m … well, same old.”
“How’s Gemma?”
“You remember Gemma?”
“Cutest baby I ever saw.”
“Still cute, but not a baby any more. Coming up to six now.”
“Wow, time flies. What have you been up to the last five years?”
“Nothing much,” I said. “Work. You?”
“Oh, broke into a few bank vaults, replaced the Mona Lisa with a forgery no one’s discovered yet. That sort of thing. Can I get you some tea? I have digestives.”
“You remember I like digestives?”
“I remember a lot of things, Matthew.”
I looked around the room again. “Seri
ously, what have you been up to? You’re doing well for yourself.”
“Matt, sit down: you’re making me feel like you’re interrogating me.”
“Sorry.” I sat dutifully.
“Better,” she said, pouring from the antique teapot into two china cups. I should have known better than to assume the set was for show. Shenna liked the best things in life, but nothing with her was ever just for show. If she collected stamps, I could imagine she would lick the back of the old ones she didn’t like any more and send out postcards.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the cup and saucer.
“I deal in antiques,” she replied at last. “Buy and sell, that’s me.”
“If anyone would know what to look out for, it’d be you.”
“When I got out, I reckoned it was time to put my skills to good use.”
“You ever deal with jewellery?”
“All the time.”
“Ever hear of the Teardrop?”
“Strange-shaped diamond kept in a local museum,” she said, sipping her tea while keeping a cautious eye upon me. “Why?”
“Someone stole it.”
“And that someone has to be me?” she asked calmly. “Or have you come to ask for my help in finding it?”
“I came because we pulled in a suspect and he mentioned you.”
“Oh?”
“You ever hear of Benny Shoreham?”
“Should you be telling me that name?”
“No.”
She laughed. It was a sweet sound. “Same old Matthew Blake.”
“So you’ve never met Shoreham?”
“Nope. What did he say about me?”
“Have you ever been to see the diamond?”
“I’ve been to the museum, yes. And I saw the diamond. I stood there a long while trying to work out how I’d steal it.”
“Shen?”
“No, I didn’t steal it. I just find it fun to think of how I’d steal something sometimes. That’s one pretty diamond; of course I’m going to work out how to steal it.”