‘A few million?’ guesses Stephen.
‘At least,’ says Kuldesh, still reading the list. ‘This list is completely insane. You would need billions to buy all of these. The Monypenny Breviary? How does Billy Chivers have all of these?’
Bogdan pulls up a wooden chair to sit with Kuldesh and Stephen.
‘I wouldn’t sit on that,’ says Kuldesh. ‘It’s worth fourteen grand, and you are tremendously large. There’s a milking stool somewhere.’
Bogdan locates and pulls up the milking stool. ‘Maybe don’t worry about Billy Chivers. Maybe someone else bought them.’
‘Chivers is just looking after them,’ agrees Stephen.
Kuldesh folds the list up and puts it in the pocket of his suit jacket. ‘I will ask around. But this is pretty big, even for me.’ He looks over to Donna. ‘I am but a humble shopkeeper, I don’t really know any criminals.’
‘And I’m the goddess of love and battle,’ says Donna, now looking at a pewter inkwell in the shape of a chihuahua.
‘But you might know someone who knows someone?’ Stephen asks Kuldesh.
‘I might,’ says Kuldesh. ‘I would like to help.’
Donna wanders over. ‘And would you ever be tempted to help the police, Mr Sharma?’
Kuldesh shrugs a little. ‘Let me tell you a story, Donna. A story that I suspect will not surprise you. I’ve been in this shop for nearly fifty years, opened up in the nineteen seventies, Kemptown Curios, proprietor Mr K. Sharma, written so beautifully over the window. Like a British shop, you know? Like the shops I’d seen in films; I did it myself. The first night, bricks through the window. I fixed, I repainted, I reopened. The moment I reopen, bricks through the window. Every night until they got bored, until they moved on to someone new.’
‘I’m sorry,’ says Donna.
‘Not at all,’ says Kuldesh. ‘A long time ago. But perhaps you can guess how helpful the Brighton police were to me in the nineteen seventies?’
‘Not particularly?’ guesses Donna.
‘Not particularly,’ agrees Kuldesh. ‘If you’d told me the bricks were theirs, it wouldn’t have shocked me. And so I have steered clear of them ever since and, largely, they have steered clear of me. Best for everyone, I think.’
Donna nods. She can only imagine.
‘Stephen,’ says Bogdan. ‘I need to speak to Kuldesh by myself for a moment. Is OK?
‘You know best,’ says Stephen. ‘I’ll fetch the car.’
‘Maybe …’ Bogdan says. ‘Maybe Donna could go with you? Keep you company.’
Donna gives Bogdan a wink, and takes Stephen by the arm.
‘Thank you, Kuldesh, old chap,’ says Stephen. ‘Knew you’d be the man for the job. Give my love to Prisha. Dinner soon?’
‘Dinner soon,’ says Kuldesh, rising and embracing Stephen. ‘I will tell Prisha I saw you, and I will see her face light up, I know.’
‘You’re a lucky sod with that one,’ says Stephen.
Donna leads Stephen from the shop. Bogdan and Kuldesh wait until the final reverberations of the shop bell have silenced.
‘Prisha is dead, I think?’ asks Bogdan.
‘Fifteen years ago,’ says Kuldesh. ‘But I will tell her I saw Stephen, and she will smile.’
Bogdan nods.
‘And I was a lucky sod, he’s right there. How ill is he? Getting worse? I cannot tell you how kind Stephen has been to me over the years. Lucrative too, but the kindness is the real treasure.’