Callum parked in front of it. ‘Won’t be long.’
‘Oh for … You’re here to redeem some manky family heirloom?’
‘Five minutes. Promise.’ He climbed out into the rain. Ducked his head and hurried inside.
The door made an electronic bleep-blonk noise as it swung closed behind him. Shelves lined the walls, packed with other people’s things. Free-standing display units turned the shop into a labyrinth. Old video game consoles, a collection of musical instruments, microwaves, hairdryers, boxed cutlery, vases, what looked like a brass urn with ‘IN MEMORY OF AGNES MAY ~ BELOVED MOTHER’ engraved on it. All of it marinating in the gritty stench of dust and mildew.
Callum picked his way through the maze to the counter, where a wee fat man was bent over a copy of the Castle News and Post. His white shirt was just a bit too big for him, the collar and cuffs stained and frayed. A maroon waistcoat with buttons missing and brown stains down the front. Bald head glinting in the shop’s dim lighting.
‘You Little Mike?’
The man behind the counter looked up, squinted, then pulled on a pair of small round glasses. ‘I am indeed, young sir, welcome to my emporium of delight.’ He swept a chubby hand from left to right, indicating his second-hand wares. ‘How may we assist you this drizzly September evening?’
The door made its bleep-blonk noise again and Franklin appeared, as if by magic. ‘Are you not finished yet?’
‘Ah, I see.’ Little Mike smiled like an indulgent parent. Then he folded his paper and moved it off to one side, revealing the glass countertop. A collection of rings and watches sparkled against dusty purple velvet. ‘An engagement ring for the lady, perhaps?’
Franklin stiffened. ‘What?’
‘Definitely not!’ Warmth bloomed in Callum’s ears. ‘Someone tried to use my credit and debit cards in here today. You destroyed them.’
He sighed. ‘A shame. You make such a lovely couple.’ A finger poked the glass. ‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you?’
‘Did they leave my wallet behind?’
‘Or, how about this?’ He grabbed something from beneath the counter and stuck it on his head then went back and fiddled a clip-on bow tie into place. ‘See? It’s a fez and bow tie. You can dress up like Doctor Who, for parties. Isn’t that fun?’
‘Have – you – got – my – wallet?’
‘No? Ah well.’ He covered the glass top with his newspaper again. ‘The young lady and gentleman concerned did have a wallet with them. A rather tatty affair, with the lining hanging out.’
Oh thank God. ‘That’s it! That’s the one.’
‘I see … Well, perhaps I can help.’ He disappeared through a door in the back.
Franklin picked the urn from its shelf. ‘Who pawns their mother’s ashes?’
‘Here we are.’ Little Mike was back, holding a shoebox. He set it down on the countertop and pulled out a couple of wallets. ‘Real leather, look at that stitching, have you ever seen anything so magnificent?’
‘What? No. I don’t want another wallet, I want the one those little sods stole from me!’
A pained smile. ‘I’m sorry, the young lady and gentleman only handed over the cards, not the wallet. But I can do you a very good deal on a new one if—’ His eyes went wide behind the little round glasses and he bustled out into the shop. ‘If I may?’ He held his hands out in front of Franklin.
She gave him the urn.
‘Thank you. Mr May would be most distressed if I allowed his mother to leave the shop without him.’ Little Mike polished a speck of dust from the urn with a hanky, then returned it to its shelf. ‘Now, is there anything else I can interest you in, while you’re here? An electric guitar, perhaps? Or how about the sensual delight that comes with an electric foot spa?’
Callum held out his hand. ‘Where are the bits of credit card?’
‘Ah, of course. You wish to make sure I haven’t indulged in anything illicit. Quite proper.’ He pulled out a carrier bag and tipped the contents of his wastepaper basket into it. ‘Don’t worry: as it’s loose items, I don’t have to charge you for the bag. Now, if I can’t tempt you with my esoteric pre-loved wares, I think I might close up for the night. So, if you don’t mind …?’ He swept a hand towards the door.
They shuffled through the maze to the exit.
Callum stopped with one hand on the handle. Frowned back into the shop. ‘The building society said they were trying to redeem something when you cut up the cards.’
‘That is correct, yes.’
‘What?’
One of Little Mike’s eyebrows made a break for freedom. ‘Ah … I’m afraid I can’t—’
‘If you’re about to invoke pawnbroker-client confidentiality, don’t bother. What did they try to redeem?’
‘Very well.’ He shook his head, then turned and led them back through the stacks and display cases to a collection of brightly coloured plastic. ‘Items F-twenty-three to F-forty-six.’
There was a sandpit, a collection of squeaky toys that looked as if they belonged in a bath, a Wendy house, a kid’s tricycle far too small for either of the little monsters to ride. An off-grey teddy bear with only one ear, scuffed button eyes, and stuffing poking out of his side. There were other bits and pieces, but nothing suitable for anyone over the age of three.
Franklin gave Little Mike one of her finest scowls. ‘You pawn wee kids’ toys?’
He sighed. ‘Some people, this is all they have. If they can’t pay their bills, their rent, if they can’t buy food for their children, what do they do? You want them to go to loan sharks?’
‘They’re kids’ toys.’
‘I know. But what can I do, turn them away hungry? Let them get thrown out on the street? So I pawn their children’s toys, and I know they’ll never come back and redeem them, and I know they’re worthless, but I do what I can.’ He took off his glasses and polished them on the frayed edge of his shirt. ‘This is what real life looks like from down here at the bottom, officers. Foodbanks and pawnshops. Who else is going to help these people?’
Callum frowned down at the collection of plastic tat.
A hand on his arm. ‘Come on, we need to get that murder board done.’
He puffed out his cheeks. ‘How much to redeem the toys? And I’ll need their address.’
Callum stuffed the multicoloured rocking-horse-shaped-like-a-fish thing in the boot with all the other toys. Closed
