Maxim Jakubowski - The Best British Mysteries III

“For your lady wife, sir?”

“Actually for my two small daughters. I am a widower.”

Mr. Jacob sighed. “I also. I have a daughter to look after me.”

Choosing two identical gold lockets, Faro asked, “Forgive my curiosity. I realise you are a newcomer to Edinburgh. May I ask what brought you here?”

“I have been here since May. As to what brought me here, sir, I will be frank with you. Persecution-yes, persecution. We have been dogged by utmost misfortunes and we are still wanderers. But Edinburgh gave us hope for a home and a future. Here it seemed that our race was tolerated and even encouraged to settle, to live and die in peace.”

Faro suspected that Mr. Jacob had been lured by the fact that sixty years ago, in the early years of the century, Edinburgh had seen the establishment of the first Jewish cemetery in Scotland, a stone’s throw from his shop.

A sign of tolerance, generous but sadly misleading. Faro was well aware that to the ordinary Edinburgh citizen, a minority racial group was something to be jeered at, despised, and that any success in business by honest dealings and honest sweat was treated with the darkest suspicion.

Mr. Jacob was fitting the gifts into velvet boxes. When Faro said they were to be posted, a sturdy brown envelope was produced.

“Perhaps you would write on the address, sir. I have a card to enclose with your message.”

“That is most thoughtful of you, Mr. Jacob.”

The jeweller studied the name and address. “Faro-you are the inspector-Inspector Faro?”

“I am,” said Faro, surprised and flattered to find himself famous.

“You must forgive me, sir, I did not recognise you again.”

“Again?” queried Faro.

“Yes, sir. I have the ring ready for you-”

“The ring-what ring?”

It was the jeweller’s turn to look astonished. “Why, sir, the valuable brooch you left.” And unlocking a drawer behind the counter, Mr. Jacob produced an emerald and diamond ring.

Faro was taken aback. Although no connoisseur of gems, he would have hazarded a rough guess that it was worth at least ten times his annual salary with Edinburgh City Police.

He also knew that he had never set eyes on it before.

Mr. Jacob, watching him intently, mistook his expression as one of disapproval and said anxiously: “I hope it is correct, sir. I tried to follow your instructions exactly.”

“My instructions?”

The jeweller nodded vigorously. “Indeed, sir. I was to change the order of the diamonds and make the original brooch into a ring setting suitable for a lady,” he said slowly, then, frowning: “There is some mistake?”

With a shake of his head, Faro replied: “There is indeed. This piece of jewellery is not mine.”

“But you are Inspector Faro? Is that not so?” and Mr. Jacob consulted his ledger. “Here is the entry. This brooch was handed in two days ago by Inspector Faro. See for yourself.”

Now examining the ring thoughtfully, Faro said slowly: “I didn’t by any chance tell you how I had come by it, did I?”

Mr. Jacob’s bafflement equalled Faro’s own. “Come by it? What is that? I do not understand.”

“Did your customer tell you that he had inherited the brooch, by any chance?”

“It was my daughter you-Inspector Faro-spoke to.”

Ah, and that explains the case of mistaken identity, thought Faro, as Mr. Jacob darted behind the screen to reappear with a gazelle-eyed beauty.

Nadia was very young, so nervous as to be almost inarticulate in her forest-creature manner, but in a few years, Faro guessed, there would be few in Edinburgh to rival her exotic looks.

And Faro smiled to himself remembering a Bible picture from his childhood. If her father could have modelled a benign Fagin, then Nadia might well have been the lass setting the baby Moses adrift among the reeds.

Her father’s admonishing tones in their own language made her wild-eyed and tearful. Trembling, she would have disappeared behind the curtain screen but for his restraining hand.

Urging her towards the inspector, Mr. Jacob’s voice was stern indeed. At last, with downcast head, she began an unintelligible explanation.

“In English, daughter,” thundered her father.

Slowly she raised her eyes to Faro. “He came in and asked for my father. I told him my father was not here. He did not want to leave the brooch but he was in a great hurry.”

“How did you know that?” asked Faro gently.

“He went often to the door and looked up and down the street as if expecting my father to come.”

Your father-or the people who were chasing him, thought Faro grimly, having now deduced the reason for the bogus inspector’s anxiety and the urgent necessity of having the brooch transformed into a ring.

“He saw someone in the street,” said Nadia. “He seemed anxious and thrust the brooch into my hand. My father was to have it ready for him today without fail.”

“Today-you are sure of that?” said Faro.

Nadia looked at her father. “That is what he said.”

“He? He! Be polite, daughter, that is no way to address the inspector.” And bowing, “Her English-I apologise.”

“Allow her to explain in her own time,” said Faro with a smile.

In reply, Nadia touched her father’s sleeve, whispered, and then turning to Faro, Mr. Jacob said, “She thinks you are not the same man.”

“Ah,” said Faro. “Now we are getting somewhere. Your exact words, Mr. Jacob, if I recall them correctly, were that you did not recognise me again. Your daughter’s information confirms that I have never set foot in your shop before this afternoon-”

“But-but, sir,” Mr. Jacob interrupted, “it was the day you arrested the holy man, the one who was trying to steal from my shop-”

“A moment, if you please. A holy man stealing from you-and I was arresting him. Sir, you must be dreaming.”

“If it was a dream,” said the jeweller ruefully, “then it was a costly one. I lost much money.”

“I presume you have reported this theft to the police.”

Father and daughter exchanged anxious looks and shook their heads.

“No? Then I think you had better tell me exactly what happened.”

“You-the er, other inspector-was in a policeman’s uniform that first time.” Mr. Jacob shrugged. “It makes a man look different.”

“Describe this uniform, if you please.”

What Mr. Jacob described was worn by police constables. Detective inspectors, however, were allowed the privilege of plain clothes, if they wished. The experience of twenty years had led Faro to appreciate the advantages of anonymity in his line of enquiries, where an approach by an officer of the law was a hindrance rather than a help. Innocent as well as guilty were apt to become somewhat reticent when faced with an intimidating uniform.

“May we go right back to the beginning, if you please?” asked Faro.

At his stern expression, Mr. Jacob sighed. “Very well… Nadia will look after the shop while we talk inside.”

In the screened-off living quarters, domesticity was provided by a curtained bed in the wall for the father and a tiny room no larger than a cupboard for his daughter. From every corner, stuffed animals glared at them yellow-eyed and fierce. A tray of dismembered clocks and watches ticked furiously as if in a constant state of anxiety at the close proximity of soldering iron and Bunsen burner.

Inviting Faro to a seat by the fire, the jeweller began his strange story.

“A few days ago, a customer, a holy man-of your faith-wished to buy a diamond ring for his wife-”

“Ah, you must mean a minister,” interrupted Faro, and when Mr. Jacob looked even more confused, he added, “We call them ‘reverends.’”