‘She still blabbed that she’d met an exciting older man who’d promised she was going to be a backing singer. And that’s not the only reckless thing he’s done. Why visit Medina at home? I think he likes the risk, the thrill, the getting as close to them as he can. It was the height of bloody stupidity to press for pictures of Gretchen and Medina together. He might’ve thought that’d give him a hold over Gretchen, but it was always just as likely to make her keener to see him arrested. Biggest mistake of all: using Medina in the burglary when she was clearly a blabbermouth. Why use
‘Maybe he didn’t know any other women who’d be happy to drive a getaway car?’ said Robin.
‘Or maybe he couldn’t resist using a girl he knew he was going to end up raping and murdering. Medina was a cherry on top of the cake. A self-awarded bonus. That’s where Oz’s self-control fails: girls.’
There was another silence, during which both partners followed their own trains of thought, until Strike said,
‘There are still anomalies, though. Shanker told me the hitman was a “mouthy nutter”, but barring the sex stuff, Oz seems efficient and controlled. Clearly an arch-manipulator. A good actor. Even if he got careless around Medina, when all’s said and done, we’re still no closer to finding out who owns the curly hair and sunglasses than we were when we first heard about them.’
‘I think that curly hair’s a wig,’ said Robin, ‘chosen to mimic the real Osgood.’
‘Think you could well be right about that,’ said Strike.
‘But Mandy’s denying she ever saw the curly haired man and the girl with long black hair,’ said Robin, who’d read Strike’s note in the file.
‘Yeah, and the trouble is, without a sighting of a girl matching Medina’s description and a bloke matching Oz’s in Wright’s house, the working assumption that Oz is the killer falls apart.’
‘There’s still the email sent to Osgood from Ramsay Silver,’ said Robin, ‘and there’s Gretchen’s testimony that Sofia was dating an older man called Oz, and the total strangers who emailed the real Osgood about a van for sale, and a problem, and a prank involving a girl.’
‘You don’t need to convince me, I’m already convinced,’ said Strike. ‘I’m certain Oz and Medina emptied Wright’s room and I’m certain they were the couple in the getaway car, but the murder investigation team are taking the line that Mandy cooked up her story on the spot because I’d paid them for an interview and she wanted to give value for money.’
Their food arrived. As Strike picked up his knife and fork he said,
‘Kim told me the girl Albie Simpson-White met in the pub wasn’t Tish Benton. Her name’s Clarissa and all she talked about was her upcoming holiday to Sicily. One funny thing, though: the girl’s living in Pembridge Gardens, almost opposite a lodge for female Freemasons.’
‘Did Kim put a note in the file?’ said Robin, who hadn’t had a chance to check. ‘Or did she just call you with this news?’
‘She called me, I don’t know about the file,’ said Strike. ‘Why?’
‘Because it seems to be my line of enquiry when she wants to bitch about it, but your line of enquiry when she’s got news,’ said Robin acidly, and immediately regretted it. She went on in a less combative tone: ‘I’m going to try and talk to Cosima Longcaster this week. Find out why Rupert crashed that birthday party.’
‘Great,’ said Strike. ‘That’d help, because Decima’s agitating for another update.’
There was yet another silence, both partners now thinking of Bar Italia, and their row about their responsibilities to Decima, but naturally, neither gave any sign of this.
‘The new Land Rover’s great,’ said Robin.
‘Good,’ said Strike. ‘How’s the house hunting going?’
‘We’ve found one we like. Our offer’s been accepted.’
‘Ah,’ said Strike, with the same old feeling of being punched in the solar plexus. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thanks,’ said Robin, her eyes on her food.
74
A. E. Housman
The knowledge that Robin and Murphy were definitely moving in together was still lying like lead in Strike’s stomach when he entered the Savoy Hotel from the Thames-facing side of the building at half past three the following afternoon. He collected his key card from the reception desk in the grand green and cream lobby, then proceeded upstairs in the red lift, the walls of which were lacquered and patterned in gold. He was confident he hadn’t been tailed, yet as the small red and gold box moved upwards, he felt as he imagined guilty men did, walking into court for sentencing.