Looking Good Dead

A couple of minutes later Chard put the file down on his desk. Tom opened it and stared at the order. The margin was fantastic, £1,400 profit per watch. Multiplied by twenty-five. That made £35,000. He’d never made that kind of a profit on an order before, ever.

Then his elation turned to gloom. Kellie had agreed to go to a clinic, to dry out. Afterwards they would start afresh together. But the good places cost a fortune; for the top ones, you could be looking at the wrong end of a couple of thousand pounds a week – multiplied by several months. A good £30,000-40,000 if you really wanted a result. And the cost of childminders while she was there.

At least with this order he would have the dosh to cover it – and in the six years he had been doing business with Ron Spacks, the man had always paid on the nail. Seven days from delivery. Never a day late.

Looking at the paperwork, Tom asked, ‘When were these delivered?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘Fast work,’ Tom said. ‘I only took the order last-’

‘Thursday!’ Peter Chard said. ‘Yeah, well I found a supplier who had stock, and got our engraver to work through the night.’

‘I never saw the design; he was going to send it through.’

Chard turned a couple of sheets of paper over, then tapped an A4 photocopy. ‘This is a massive enlargement. It’s actually a microdot, invisible to the naked eye.’

Ron looked down and saw a drawing of a beetle, a rather fine but slightly menacing-looking creature, with strange markings on its back and a horn rising from its head. He frowned.

‘It’s called a scarab beetle,’ Peter Chard said. ‘Apparently they are sacred in ancient Egyptian mythology.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Yep. Disgusting creature. Also known as a dung beetle.’

‘Why would he want these on a watch?’

Chard shrugged. ‘He’s a DVD distributor, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, massive.’

‘Maybe there’s a record label with that name.’ The salesman shrugged again. ‘He’s your client – I figured you knew.’

Tom felt a sudden cold shiver run through him. Maybe he should mention this to Detective Superintendent Grace when they next spoke – as a coincidence to have a laugh about, if nothing else.

But he decided it might be wise to wait until Ron Spacks had paid, first.

Peter James