Heller's Regret (22 page)

But, like any good security officer, Farrell
didn’t let it go for a moment. “A lot’s changed since then. Yes,
that system you’ve installed is undeniably good, but it’s not
infallible. Few systems are these days. High level crims are
incredibly tech-savvy. It’s all system manufacturers can do to keep
one step ahead of them. At
Heller’s
, where Chalmers and I
work, it’s always recommended that clients install ancillary alarms
along with any security camera system. In any situation of system
disablement or failure, the alarms will alert the responding
security team to a possible breach. Is there an alarm system
attached to these cameras?”

“No,” Collett said sullenly.

Farrell spent a minute peering up at each of
the cameras in the room. “These were, and are still, disabled.
Doesn’t anyone on your team check them every morning?”

Collett squirmed, studiously ignoring the
massing storm clouds on Mrs Burwood’s face. “Normally. But I was
caught up with the store manager for a while this morning.”

“You should have told him to wait five
minutes until you’d ticked that task off your list, especially with
such a valuable collection on loan. Next time you need security for
a major collection like this, call
Heller’s Security &
Surveillance
. We’ll set up the two systems, backed up by a
twenty-four hour response service, and provide on-floor officers
such as Chalmers and me for the day shift.”

“For a security officer only hired to do a
three-day job, you seem to have a lot of opinions.”

“Opinions don’t cost anything, unlike having
rare jewellery stolen from you. That’s definitely going to screw up
your next insurance premiums.” Collett mentally calculated the
increase in premiums, turning green as he did. It was probably part
of his brief to ensure they remained reasonable each year. Farrell
remained unemotional as he indicated both of us. “We know our arses
are in the fire when we return to work because this necklace was
stolen. It’s not our fault, so that’s unfair, sure. But
incompetence and unprofessionalism aren’t tolerated at
Heller’s
for a second. I want to be able to tell my boss
that at least I pointed out better options for protecting your
collections in the future.”

Collett’s face shut down at Farrell’s blunt
words, but Mrs Burwood hung on them, nodding enthusiastically as
she absorbed every admonishment.

“Mr Farrell’s right,” she spoke up with
unexpected heat. “This should
never
have happened. I don’t
know what I’m going to tell the duchy trustees. That necklace was
irreplaceable.”

“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.