As if by Magic (7 page)

Dave’s friend who worked for the credit agency was able to give them the information relating to Balthazar’s insurance claim. The seven items he had registered as stolen on the database had all been claimed for together. Along with the ring, watch and earrings they had already recovered, there was a necklace, bracelet, full-sized watch and broach still missing. Jessica had someone from the station read her a copy of the crime report, where everything sounded straightforward. The items had been locked inside a safe in a dressing room. While they had been on stage, a window had been broken and the entire safe taken. Police had checked the scene but found no trace of anything other than the glass. With everything apparently in order and no leads, the case had been closed and the insurance company had paid out a little over £400,000 to Balthazar or, as he was named in the report, Ian.

It was no wonder the magician appeared uncomfortable as he would likely have the choice of paying back that amount of money, or returning the jewellery.

Jessica took one final piece of information from Dave’s friend before hanging up and telling her colleague everything.

‘So what are we going to do next?’ Dave asked.

Jessica thought for a few moments, drumming her fingers on the dashboard. ‘Do you fancy a drive up Cumbria way?’

‘Why?’

‘That’s where my Mum and Dad live.’

‘You want me to meet your parents?’

Jessica stopped tapping her fingers. ‘I need to check something but I’d rather not drive all that way myself.’

‘Is that because you don’t want to pay the petrol, or because you don’t think your clapped-out heap of a car will make it?’

Jessica giggled. ‘A little from column A...’

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

As she sat waiting, Jessica wondered how many more hours from the weekend she was going to spend sitting in Dave’s car. The only benefit was that they were parked on the side of the road and she didn’t have to endure any more of his plodding driving.

They had driven back to Manchester from Jessica’s parents’ house on Friday evening, with Jessica sleeping most of the journey back. Dave had then picked her up, as requested, on Saturday morning and they were currently waiting across the road from a row of small shops not far from the area where they had found Tony the previous day. The property they were focused on had heavy metal grilles pulled down and bolted to the floor, covering the door and window and leaving just a small patch of smudged, dirty brickwork exposed. Hanging from the roof was a rotting wooden sign which was missing part of a corner, while the name of the shop was barely visible against the black paint of the sign.

‘I think your parents really like me,’ Dave said.

‘Maybe in the way you’d like a three-legged puppy you felt a bit sorry for.’

‘Your Mum said I can go back anytime I like.’

Jessica couldn’t work out if he was winding her up or not. ‘When?’

‘When you went to the toilet. She tapped me on the knee and said you hadn’t brought a “young man” home in years.’

Jessica felt horrified. ‘She didn’t?’

‘She did. Your Dad offered to pay me to take you off his hands.’

‘I told them we weren’t going out.’

‘Well what do you expect? You invite me to your Mum and Dad’s house for tea, what else are they going to think?’

‘I didn’t invite you for tea,’ Jessica replied forcefully. ‘I asked you to give me a lift up to their house and then
they
invited you in for tea. I only needed to be there for five minutes.’

‘You can’t go all that way, spend five minutes and then drive two hours back to Manchester.’

‘You’re right – which is why you were going to drive. Then you all guilt-tripped me into hanging around.’

‘Anyway,’ Dave said. ‘I never got the chance to ask how much your Dad was willing to pay, but if you can get me a phone number, I can maybe do some haggling and see what price he’s willing to go to.’

Jessica ignored him, instead watching the shop and checking the clock on the dashboard, wondering why it was still closed when the opening time said it should have opened fifteen minutes before.

Forty minutes after it should have opened, Jessica saw a man hurrying along the path, before stopping at the shop and crouching down to unlock the shutters. He was wearing a tight checked white shirt which bulged against his portly torso. Pausing for breath, the man then unlocked the second grate and entered the shop, turning the sign on the front around to read “Open”.

Jessica waited for a minute and then opened the car door, striding towards the shop. As she neared it, the writing on the damaged sign became visible. There were still scrapings of gold paint, although it was the black outline she could now read against the even darker background. “Hunter’s Jewellers, Est: 1950,” it read.

A bell tinkled as Jessica opened the door. The shop was small and cramped, with locked display cases along one side and another lower one in front of a table which the man was wedged behind, while a small laptop computer was perched precariously on the edge.

The man looked younger facially than his frame would indicate. His hair was black and greased to the top of his head, while he licked his lips in a way which made Jessica have to suppress a wince.

Even with just the three of them, the shop felt cramped and claustrophobic.

‘Can I help you?’ the man said, looking surprised at having customers so soon after opening.

‘Are you Gerald Hunter?’

The man coughed slightly. ‘He was my father, I’m Geoffrey.’

Jessica reached into a pocket and handed an item over. ‘This is a war medal of my father’s,’ she said. ‘He didn’t win it but he inherited it, if you get what I mean. I was wondering if you could appraise it for me? I was told you did this type of thing as well as jewellery.’

She nodded towards a sign on the back wall, which read “We appraise anything”. The medal was in a frame but Geoffrey removed the back panel and put on a pair of soft white gloves before taking it out and looking at it closely while he nodded. ‘It will take me an hour or so,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a couple of things to do first.’

After checking his rates, Jessica told him to go ahead and then left the shop. She and Dave went for breakfast, which she insisted he pay for considering he had received a free meal from her parents the previous day, before they returned.

The medal had been put tidily back in the frame and Geoffrey returned it, along with a short note on headed paper which he had signed. ‘This is a Queen’s Sudan Medal, yes?’ he said.

‘Probably,’ Jessica replied with a shrug. ‘It says Sudan on the front. You’re the expert, I have no idea.’

Geoffrey nodded. ‘Yes, it’s a Queen Sudan from the end of the nineteenth century. Winston Churchill actually fought in that campaign, did you know that?’

Jessica shook her head.

‘It’s in near-enough mint condition,’ Geoffrey added. ‘I would say it’s worth around £2,000 or so – perhaps more if it went to auction.’

Jessica put it back in her pocket and looked at the note, before handing it to Dave. ‘Not bad, is it sweetie?’ she said linking an arm through Dave’s.

‘Er, what?’ he replied, stammering over his words.

‘I said that’s pretty good, isn’t it? Two grand for one of Dad’s old medals. That can probably pay for the engagement ring, can’t it?’

Jessica gripped his arm tighter.

‘I... suppose,’ Dave said, looking from Jessica to Geoffrey and then back again.

‘If you’re after something specific, we have many items in the cabinet here,’ Geoffrey said, scraping his chair backward and standing up before pointing to the case in between them.

‘Oh, isn’t that wonderful,’ Jessica said, speaking in a slightly higher tone and squeezing Dave’s arm as hard as she could until he yelped slightly and shook her off. ‘We’ve been talking about a lightning-quick wedding, so we could get the whole thing done and dusted.’

Geoffrey was suddenly looking eager at the prospect of a sale.

‘We should probably shop around or something,’ Dave said, still stammering.

Jessica scowled. ‘Oh well, perhaps we’ll come back later. What time are you open until?’

‘Six o’clock.’

Nodding enthusiastically, Jessica told him they would be back and then left the shop.

‘What was all that about?’ Dave said as they reached the car. He was rubbing his arm and wincing.

‘Nothing, I just like putting the shits up you. You should have seen your face.’

‘Well it’s no surprise, given the fact I was suddenly facing a lifetime of marriage... to you.’

Jessica got into the car and shut the door. ‘What’s so wrong about that?’

‘I’d rather go gay.’

‘Just for that, I’m not giving you that fiver after all – or the extra fiver for breakfast.’

‘So why did you tell him we’d be going back?’

‘Because we will be. We’ve just got one pit-stop to make first.’

SEVEN

Jessica was relieved when Balthazar himself opened the door as she didn’t think she could take too much more of Ashleigh.

Balthazar was wearing a black suit, including a waistcoat, but the pinstripes made him look even thinner than he already was. After inviting them in, he spun on the spot, a cape swishing theatrically behind him. The longer parts of his hair had been greased back and he now looked far more of a showman than he had the previous day. He led them through the house, muttering under his breath as he walked. Jessica was relieved he hadn’t kissed her hand this time around.

‘Is everything all right?’ she asked, while Dave glanced around the house, possibly looking for Ashleigh.

‘I’m just busy,’ Balthazar replied as he hurried through the door into the area with the stage they had been in the previous day.

‘Did you manage to resolve the issues from yesterday?’

Balthazar continued to walk away from them, heading towards the throne that was on top of the stage. ‘It’s very complicated,’ he replied. ‘May I ask why you’re here?’

‘We’ve recovered more of your items,’ Jessica said. ‘We’ve found the bracelet and the broach – so that’s just two more outstanding.’

Balthazar didn’t reply, instead fiddling with something on the floor underneath the throne.

Jessica met Dave’s eyes and raised her eyebrows to tell him to leave it to her. ‘I thought you might be more excited,’ she said, approaching one of the shelves and peering closely at one of the photos.

Balthazar stopped shuffling and stood, spinning around to face them. For a moment he didn’t say anything. As Jessica picked up a second photograph, she could feel him watching her but resisted the urge to turn.

‘That was taken at the Liverpool Empire in 1971,’ he said.

The photo Jessica was holding showed Balthazar with his arms aloft and a huge smile on his face. Next to him was Brenda, and on his other side two men who Jessica didn’t recognise.

‘It must be hard staying relevant nowadays,’ Jessica said. ‘What with computers, televisions, phones and everything else which people have to take up their time?’

Balthazar sighed and climbed down from the stage, walking towards them and picking up a second photo from the shelf next to where Jessica was standing and then handing it to her.

‘This one was taken at the Royal Variety Performance in 1987. We were at the London Palladium and it was the highlight of my career.’

Jessica put the photo she had been holding back on the shelf and took the one being offered. Balthazar looked a completely different person in the photo. His face was fuller and eyes brighter. The photo showed him shaking hands with the Queen, a row of famous faces lined up next to him.

‘How did the show go?’

Balthazar ran a hand through his hair and his face cracked into a wide smile that almost made him seem like the person in the picture. ‘I actually made her laugh. Can you believe that? I was doing this thing with a piece of string which just got longer and longer and I looked up to the Royal box and there she was, laughing gently. You put on shows for all sorts of people over the years and most are nice about it. They tell you afterwards they had fun – but to actually see someone like that enjoying themselves, it’s hard to beat.’

‘What did she say to you?’ Jessica asked nodding at the photo.

Balthazar laughed. ‘Not much, just “Pleased to meet you” or something like that. I was so terrified of saying something stupid, I went to bow and ended up doing this half-curtsey thing.’

Jessica grinned, feeling slightly charmed, before she composed herself. ‘Do you know why we’re here?’ she asked.

Ignoring her question, Balthazar took the photo from her and returned it to the shelf. ‘Do you know how many countries I’ve performed in?’ he asked, walking back towards the stage and sitting on the throne. Jessica didn’t reply, so he answered his own question. ‘Twenty nine, including Australia, Japan, Thailand – all over. I was massive in Iceland for a while.’

Dave had taken a few steps towards the stage and Jessica caught his eye, giving a slight nod. ‘I know you don’t have the money to return to the insurance company,’ Jessica said.

‘I once performed in front of 48,000 people at a festival in Germany,’ Balthazar continued. Dave took a few more steps towards him, while Jessica kept her eyes fixed on him as he reached into the front pocket of his jacket and took out a plastic-looking rectangle with the outline of buttons on the front.

‘Wait,’ he said firmly, switching his gaze to Dave.

Dave stopped moving, seemingly incapacitated by the authority in Balthazar’s voice. Jessica couldn’t make out quite what the object was but, from the way he was holding it, it looked like there were buttons on the front.

Jessica wanted Dave to keep on moving but he wasn’t looking at her, instead transfixed by the man on the throne.

‘I know why you can’t hand those goods over as well,’ Jessica continued, although Balthazar didn’t seem to be listening.

‘Do you know how many times I was on primetime television?’ he asked. Jessica didn’t reply, instead looking towards Dave and urging him with her eyes to get on with it but he still didn’t turn around. ‘Sixty two,’ Balthazar said.