Webley stares at him. ‘How are you such a bookworm? I don’t know any copper who’s as bookish as you.’
Cody smiles. ‘Their loss. Books take you anywhere you want to go, in space and time.’
‘What are you, Doctor Who, now?’
‘Seriously. You should try it.’
‘Hey! I read. I just don’t have bookshelves everywhere like you do. I prefer to keep my walls free for the occasional photograph or painting or mirror. How many books have you got in that flat of yours, anyway?’
‘Dunno. Never counted them.’
‘That’s because it would take you all year. Fire hazard, if you ask me.’
They climb out of the car, while two burly uniformed officers get out of their own vehicle. They walk down to the jeweller’s on Telegraph Road. Webley’s eye is caught by all the shiny things in the window.
‘Now this is more my kind of shop,’ she says. ‘You can keep your musty old books.’
‘What are you going to learn from a diamond necklace?’ Cody sneers.
‘I will learn everything I need to know about the man who buys it for me,’ she says.
Cody stares at her. ‘You are joking, aren’t you?’
‘Of course I am. Unless you’re about to buy it for me, in which case I’m not.’
Cody peers at it through the window. ‘How much?’ he says, his voice unnaturally high. ‘Dream on, Megs.’
She smiles. She likes it when he calls her Megs. Parker is the only other person who ever calls her that. Neither of them is likely to buy her a diamond necklace, though.
‘Right,’ says Cody. ‘Let’s do this.’
They open the shop door and pile in. At the reception desk, a woman who seems only a short hop beyond her teens blinks at the incoming mob. She appears intrigued rather than alarmed – exhilarated, almost, by the prospect of becoming entangled in a police raid. Through a glass pane behind the woman, Webley can see two men at workbenches in the adjoining room, busy fashioning or polishing items of jewellery. They remind her of the green-clad elves she saw in a picture book when she was a child.
See, Cody, she thinks. I do read.
‘Sorry to bother you,’ says Cody, flashing his ID. ‘We’re with the Major Incident Team at Merseyside Police.’
‘Ooh,’ says the woman. ‘That sounds exciting.’ She rises from her chair and comes around the desk. Webley decides that it’s more of a slink than a walk. Totally unnecessary.
The woman puts out a hand. ‘I’m Leah. How can I help you?’
Cody seems taken aback by the welcome, but he shakes the proffered hand. ‘Er, I’m Detective Sergeant Cody, and this is DC Webley.’
Webley notices that even the explicit introduction doesn’t cause the receptionist’s eyes to leave Cody’s.
‘Pleased to meet you, Sergeant Cody. I’ve never met a real detective before.’
‘No? Well, we’re looking for—’
‘I tell a lie. There was that time my mum had her purse stolen in the market. I was only about seven or eight. She dragged me down to the police station to make a complaint, and she insisted on talking to a detective before we left.’
‘That’s very interesting. Now if we could—’
‘Nice man, he was. He asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and I told him—’
Webley decides to step in. ‘We’re looking for Oliver Selby. Is he here?’
Leah turns towards Webley as though she’s finally realised she’s in the room.
‘Oliver? No, he hasn’t been in today. Or yesterday, for that matter. Which is a nuisance because I’ve been trying to get hold of him. Mrs Reynolds ordered a ring that was supposed to be—’
‘Mind if we search the place?’
‘No. Go ahead.’
Webley nods to the two uniforms, who immediately disappear into the back room. She hears muted conversation, doors being opened and closed, the thudding of boots on the staircase.
Webley notices that Leah’s gaze is still glued to Cody. It annoys her that she’s bothered by it.
‘Has he done something wrong?’ Leah asks. ‘Oliver, I mean.’
‘We don’t know yet,’ Cody says. ‘But we need to speak to him urgently. When’s the last time you saw him?’
‘Day before yesterday.’
‘Here, at work?’
‘Yes. You know, you seem awfully young to be a detective.’
