Robin’s phone buzzed several more times while she was driving to Haringey, but she ignored the new texts. A tight knot of anxiety and fear had lodged behind her rib cage, though of what she was afraid she couldn’t have said. Being honest with herself? Being honest with Murphy? The fallout that was likely, if she expressed the slightest reservation about moving in together? Why had she let herself get pulled along into this situation? Hadn’t she learned anything about listening to her own doubts, from the calamity that had been her short-lived marriage?
Carnival Street comprised a terrace of dilapidated houses on one side and a scrapyard running the length of the other. Robin arrived to see Strike’s BMW parked just a few spaces ahead of her. Assuming he’d leave now he’d seen her arrive, Robin parked, took out her mobile and saw a text from her mother.
Martin and Carmen back together xxx
Great, Robin texted back, before turning to Murphy’s latest messages.
I don’t take every chance to drag Strike into arguments, because I know what happens when I mention him. You go off on one.
The next text read:
I wanted us to get a place we could live in long-term, not somewhere that starts feeling cramped within months. I get the impression you’d rather keep everything as temporary as possible, as if we’re students who might move on within a year. And I don’t think it’s a hanging offence to want spare bedrooms.
The last said:
Just because I wanted an open conversation about it the other night, you make this all about kids. I’m not pressuring you, but I’m not going to apologise for wanting them, either. All I want is two-way honesty.
The passenger door opened. Robin jumped, her hand moving instinctively for her bag and the pepper spray before she registered that it was Strike climbing into the car.
‘Got a few things to tell you.’
‘OK,’ said Robin, putting her mobile down and trying to focus.
‘Plug’s mate in Ipswich who got done for animal cruelty headed for the compound an hour ago, with a dog in the back of his van that, and I quote Barclay verbatim, “looks like a fucking tiger”. Apparently a lot of other blokes have rolled up since, all in vans, and on an unrelated subject – shit.’
Plug and a friend had just emerged from the house, dragging a gigantic dog that looked to Robin the kind of creature that might guard the gates of hell: a muzzled, snarling, jet black, heavily muscled cross between a Rottweiler and a giant Bulldog. It took the combined efforts of both men to force it into the back of Plug’s van.
‘Don’t you want to—?’ Robin began, as she turned on the engine.
‘No,’ said Strike, pulling on his seatbelt, ‘I’m coming.’
78
A. E. Housman
‘Fucking typical it kicks off the night Barclay’s on them,’ said Strike, pulling his phone out of his pocket. ‘He needs to clear out. The blokes who dragged him off that roof are probably there.’
He called Barclay, informed him that he and Robin were on their way, and that he should leave before he was spotted.
‘Strange night to have a dog fight, Valentine’s Day,’ commented Robin, once Strike had hung up.
‘I don’t think we’re dealing with born romantics here.’
‘At least he hasn’t brought his son along,’ said Robin. ‘God, I feel sorry for that boy.’
‘Yeah, I can’t imagine it’s much fun having Plug as a father… did you read my email about the bloke in sunglasses who went looking for Todd after he moved out?’ asked Strike.
‘Yes, I’ve read all your emails,’ said Robin, a little more snappily than she’d meant to.
‘Everything all right?’
‘Yes, fine,’ said Robin quickly. The last thing she wanted right now was a discussion about her mood. ‘You were going to say something else before he came out of the house. “On an unrelated subject…”’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Strike. ‘I think I’ve identified Danny de Lion.’
‘You’re kidding?’