The Curious Mind of Inspector Angel by Roger Silverwood

way. He should be getting support not obstruction, but it had always been the same with King Kong.
    He looked up and saw him screw up the application for the warrant and triumphantly throw it at the wicker waste-paper basket in the corner of the room.
    Angel’s blood pressure was up. He could hear his heart banging under his shirt. He went out and closed the door. That wasn’t the end of the matter. Oh no. There was some mystery concealed inside Number 2, Creeford Road and he was determined to get inside the big house and find out what it was.
     
    Angel opened the door, and the shop bell rang out.
    Ahmed followed him inside, took off his helmet and stepped down into the little, low-ceilinged shop. He gazed round in surprise at the tightly packed mishmash of furniture, pictures, clobber and rubbish in Mr Schuster’s little emporium.
    David Schuster shuffled through the bead curtain in a cloud of cigarette smoke. When he saw Angel and Ahmed, he smiled, ‘Ah. Inspector Angel, with reinforcements, I see, this time,’ he said with a grin. ‘What can I do for you?’
    ‘This is Police Constable Ahaz,’ he said turning round to Ahmed. ‘Mr Schuster.’
    They exchanged nods.
    ‘I am glad you have called in, Inspector. I have remembered something about that candle-snuffer. The hands at the end of the blades. They are praying hands. It was something unique to a particular part of the low countries, many, many years ago. Of course the area was overrun by the Germans in 1939. Churches were looted. Church valuables were scattered all over.’
    ‘I know that now,’ Angel said.
    Schuster looked surprised. ‘Who told you that? There are not many people out of that part of Europe who would know about the praying hands, Inspector.’
    ‘Who have you been telling about this candle-snuffer, Mr Schuster?’
    ‘Nobody, Inspector. Nobody. Knowledge is money. I don’t give information away lightly.’
    Angel didn’t believe him. ‘I need to know,’ he said commandingly.
    ‘I didn’t tell anybody,’ Schuster said reaching for the burning cigarette he had placed there and taking a drag. ‘That info didn’t come from me. Must have been somebody else.’
    ‘There isn’t anybody else. You must have mentioned it to somebody.’
    ‘I’m not daft, Inspector. I don’t tell people my business. All my transactions are confidential. Knowledge and privacy are my stock in trade.’
    Angel shook his head. This man could keep his mouth shut.
    ‘I would have bought it from you at that price,’ Schuster added with a smile.
    ‘What price? It was never for sale. It still isn’t.’
    ‘Between £30 and £100, I said.’
    ‘It’s not mine to sell.’
    ‘Now that we know where it came from, I could pay a £1000.’
    ‘ It’s not mine to sell !’ Angel shouted.
    Schuster shrugged. ‘£2000?’
    Angel shook his head impatiently. ‘I said it’s not mine to sell.’ He sighed. ‘But there is something I might buy from you .’
    Schuster pursed his lips, affecting indifference and looked over his glasses. ‘What is that then, Inspector?’
    Angel looked down at the shop floor and gently tapped one of the fire extinguishers with the toe of his shoe. ‘What do you want for this?’
    Schuster blinked. ‘A fire extinguisher? Can’t sell you that . Health and Safety and all that. It would most likely be illegal. It probably doesn’t work anyway. I’ve got six of them. They’re over forty years old. Came out of Bransby Art Gallery.’
    ‘What are you going to do with them?’
    He shrugged. ‘Probably end up on the tip.’
    ‘Well, can I have one, then?’ Angel said. ‘For nothing. That wouldn’t be illegal.’
    ‘It probably doesn’t work. Be all corroded up. It’s no good, I tell you. What would you do with it?’
    Angel tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger. ‘Knowledge and privacy are my stock in trade. I don’t give information away lightly.’
    Schuster frowned then smiled.

EIGHT
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    There was a knock