Nothing Ventured(24)

William was suddenly more interested. “Do any of your stallholders have any idea who he might be?”

“One of our dealers says he recognizes him, but can’t be sure from where. He claims he doesn’t recall his name.”

“You say ‘claims.’ That suggests you’re not convinced.”

“A few years ago, the stallholder in question was sentenced to six months in prison for handling stolen goods. The probation service asked us to give him a second chance, which we did—reluctantly. But we warned him that if he put a foot out of line again, he would be expelled from the society.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ken Appleyard.”

William wrote down the name. “And given your experience in the field, Mr. Webb, do you have a theory as to why our mystery man is buying so much old silver?”

“To begin with, I assumed it might be money laundering, but he kept coming back. So, unless he’s stupid, that didn’t make any sense. Then I wondered if he was melting the silver down, but that also didn’t add up, because the price of silver has fallen recently. So I confess I’m completely flummoxed. However, my board of trustees felt I should let you know, to be on the safe side.”

“I’m most grateful, Mr. Webb. I’ll brief my boss about your concerns, and may well get back to you.”

The first thing William did after he’d hung up wasn’t to brief Lamont, but to take the lift down to minus one, where the police national computer was housed. A PC who looked even younger than him tapped in the name Ken Appleyard, and in a matter of moments a record of his previous convictions was printed out. It confirmed that Appleyard had been sentenced to six months for receiving stolen goods. William was pleased to see that he had no other convictions, and since his release hadn’t received so much as a parking ticket.

William returned to his office bearing the charge sheet. Lamont was on the phone, but waved William to the chair by his side. William knew that the boss was assisting an Interpol inquiry into a diamond smuggling ring that worked out of Ghana and Dubai. Once Lamont put the phone down he switched his attention to what William had to say.

“What do you think he’s up to, boss?” asked William, when he had come to the end of his report.

“I’ve no idea. But the first thing you have to do is find out who the mystery man is, because until we know that, we’re just floundering around in the dark.”

“Where do I start?”

“Follow up your only lead. Go to the Silver Vaults and talk to Appleyard. But tread cautiously. He’ll be sensitive about his prison sentence, especially with his colleagues working close by. Try to look like a customer, not a copper.”

“Understood, sir.”

“And, William, why haven’t you arrested the Churchill forger yet?”

“He’s gone to ground, sir. But if he resurfaces, I’ll nab him and happily apply the thumbscrews.”

Lamont smiled and returned to his diamond smugglers.



* * *



William knew exactly where the Silver Vaults were, but before leaving he called his father to ask if he was free for lunch, as he needed to seek his advice.

“I can spare you an hour,” replied Sir Julian, “but no more.”

“That’s all I’m allowed, Dad. Oh, and I can only give you two pounds and eighty pence toward the bill.”

“I accept your pittance, although it’s considerably less than I usually charge for an hour’s con. Let’s meet outside the entrance to Lincoln’s Inn at one o’clock. You can tell me afterward if your canteen is any better than ours.”

William left the Yard and caught a bus to the City. After a short walk up Chancery Lane, he entered the London Silver Vaults. A list of all the stallholders was displayed on a wall in the reception area. Mr. K. Appleyard’s shop was number 23.

William took the wide staircase to the basement, where he found a long room with stalls huddled together on both sides. He would have liked to stop and look more closely at several exquisite pieces that caught his eye, but didn’t allow himself to be distracted from his search for number 23.

Appleyard was showing a customer a sugar bowl when William spotted the name above his stall. He stopped at the dealer opposite, picked up a silver pepper pot in the form of a suffragette, and studied it closely. The ideal Christmas present for Grace, he thought. He was about to ask the price when Appleyard’s customer drifted away, so he strolled across to join him.

“Good morning, sir. Were you looking for something in particular?”

“Someone,” said William quietly, and produced his warrant card.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” said Appleyard defiantly.

“No one’s suggesting you have. I just want to ask you a couple of questions.”

“Is this about that guy who’s been buying old silver?”

“Got it in one.”

“There’s not a lot I can tell you. I came across him in Pentonville, but I can’t remember his name. I’ve spent years trying to forget that period of my life, not revisit it.”

“I quite understand,” said William. “But it would be a great help if you could remember anything at all about the man—age, height, any distinguishing features.”