‘It’s none of your business whether I’ve heard from him or not! It’s outrageous, sending people to pester me like this,
‘Decima’s simply concerned about Rupert, and she’d like to be reassured he’s—’
‘The police are satisfied as to his whereabouts, so I’ll thank Miss Longcaster to stop pestering me!
‘You haven’t got any concerns about Rupert’s safety, personally?’
‘Why should I have? Why should I have?’
‘I hear he was being threatened, before he went away,’ said Strike.
‘If he got involved with drugs, I’ve got no sympathy for him! Nothing to do with me! I told him, “I’m not giving you money, so don’t.
‘Rupert wanted you to help him out, did he?’
‘I’m not paying off drug debts! I haven’t got money to pour down the drain!’
‘You’re aware that he was being threat—?’
‘I don’t doubt he was being threatened! He ought to choose his friends more carefully, oughtn’t he?’
‘As far as you’re aware—?’
‘That’s all I’ve got to say!
The line went dead.
9
Robert Browning
At eight o’clock that evening, Robin’s doorbell sounded.
‘Hi,’ said Murphy’s voice over the intercom. ‘I’ve got chips.’
‘Oh, wonderful, I’m starving,’ said Robin, and she buzzed him inside.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ were Murphy’s first words after stepping over the threshold and kissing Robin hello. He was glaring at the ceiling, through which the upstairs neighbour’s music was still pounding. ‘Want me to go up there and tell him to knock it off?’
‘There’s no point,’ said Robin. ‘He turns it down for twenty minutes then it starts creeping up again. He thinks people won’t notice as long as he does it gradually.’
‘Twat… Sit down. We only need knives and forks, I’ve brought drinks.’
‘Ryan, this is lovely, thank you,’ said Robin five minutes later, once both were eating their fish and chips off their laps, a can of zero-alcohol beer and a Diet Coke on the coffee table. ‘How’re things at work?’
‘Same,’ said Murphy, clearly disinclined to go into the complexities of the gang shooting case. ‘How’re you feeling?’
‘A lot better,’ said Robin, who hoped that if she said it often enough, she’d start believing it.
They ate without talking for a few minutes, until Robin said,
‘Listen, d’you know anything about a murder that happened while I was at Chapman Farm, the one they thought was masonic?’
‘What, the body in the silver shop?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Yeah, an armed robber got bumped off,’ said Murphy through a mouthful of cod. He swallowed. ‘Alternatively, a male prostitute got murdered by the shop owner, who panicked and chucked the body in the vault because he couldn’t think what else to do with it.’
‘Was that an actual theory?’ said Robin, freezing with a chip halfway to her mouth.
‘Probably a joke. You know what it’s like. The dead guy was naked and fake tanned.’
‘You know someone who was on the case?’
‘Yeah. Why?’
‘Strike met a woman yesterday who’s convinced the man in the vault was really her boyfriend.’
‘She the type to date armed robbers?’
‘I wouldn’t think so. She’s quite posh, I think. Her boyfriend was a waiter – a posh waiter. We’re trying to find out for her whether it was ever confirmed beyond doubt that the man in the vault really was that armed robber.’
‘As far as I know, they’re happy with the ID,’ said Murphy.
‘A hundred per cent happy?’
‘Dunno,’ said Murphy. ‘Why? Strike fancies showing up the Met again, does he?’
‘What?’
Murphy reached for his no-alcohol beer and took a swig.
‘People have lost their careers after Strike’s come meddling, you know.’
‘Who?’ said Robin sharply. ‘Roy Carver, you mean? Strike tried to give him the solution and he wouldn’t listen. And if you’re going to blame the agency for solving things the police didn’t, you should be blaming me, too.’
Murphy ate a few more chips before saying,
‘The coppers who keep feeding Strike information aren’t winning many friends at work, I can tell you that. Eric Wardle ought to think about that, next time he accepts a free curry.’
‘We’ve given Wardle plenty of stuff in return,’ said Robin. ‘It’s been a two-way street, you know.’
She refrained from pointing out that Strike had handed Murphy the kudos of arresting a killer just a couple of months previously, and that the agency had given Murphy material assistance in another case. She couldn’t help suspecting that the continuing coverage of the successful investigation of the UHC, versus Murphy’s so far unsuccessful attempts to catch the shooter of the two young boys, was exacerbating her boyfriend’s resentment.
They ate for a few more minutes, the only sound the pounding of the bass from upstairs.
‘Sorry,’ said Murphy abruptly. ‘Just not enjoying all the slagging off we’re getting in the press.’
He drained his can of beer and said,
‘How’s that Cochran woman settling in?’
‘Well,’ said Robin.