‘So… Oz,’ said Robin. ‘We’re looking at a violent sex offender who kills people who become dangerous to him?’
‘A violent sex offender who shows no mercy to accomplices who can’t refrain from sex offending, even though all the evidence shows
‘He hasn’t been caught for any of these murders, though,’ said Robin, ‘which suggests brains.’
‘Agreed,’ said Strike. ‘Brains, and what I suspect is practice. A genuinely unhinged man might erupt into a sudden killing spree, but Oz isn’t unhinged. He’s methodical and controlled – except where girls are concerned. But even there, he hasn’t been caught yet.’
‘And you say four murders in eight months,’ said Robin, ‘but it might be five. We still don’t know what’s happened to Sapphire Neagle.’
‘I wouldn’t hold your breath on finding out, because the police are playing catch-up where Oz is concerned,’ said Strike. ‘I don’t think they connected Medina’s murder and Neagle’s disappearance until I mentioned it this morning and they didn’t seem to know the real Osgood was emailed by a stranger about a van, from which I deduce that they haven’t been back to the real Osgood or tried to retrieve the mystery messages he’s received. On the other hand, they’ve clearly reconsidered their position that the Oz and Medina sightings in St George’s Avenue were made up by Mandy for money—’
‘Finding out the silver Peugeot visited Newham twice probably did that,’ said Robin.
‘My thoughts exactly. They seemed thoroughly pissed off we know Malcolm Truman’s a mason, and even more pissed off at my suggestion that he refused to consider evidence that the body might not be Jason Knowles, which, needless to say, I made sure I said on tape.’
A yawn overtook Strike. When he’d finished, he raised his hand to the waiter to request more coffee.
‘I imagine you’ve noticed,’ he said, once his mug had been topped up, ‘there’ve been no press stories about Lord Oliver Branfoot’s private porn movies? The de Leon brothers aren’t upholding their side of the bargain.’
‘It’s only been a few days. We did agree they could prepare their mother first.’
‘I want Branfoot neutralised,’ said Strike. ‘We’re vulnerable in more ways than one while he’s skulking around, sending thugs to intimidate us. “We think you might have a flat where you make dirty films” isn’t a solid enough basis for a counter-attack. We need proof. An address.’
‘You still think the man who threatened me was Branfoot’s?’
‘Nobody else connected to this case has got blokes at their fingertips who’d be happy to break the law in exchange for a wad of cash, and while the fucker’s got a hotline to Culpepper, we’re still at risk of more bullshit press stories. I got a snide remark from DCI Northmore about the way I conduct business. I’d say he’d be fucking delighted to see me done over in the tabloids again. It’d help a lot if we could rule out Powell or Semple. How was Wynn Jones?’
Robin gave a short summary of her talk with Jones, concluding,
‘If I had to bet, I’d say he knows where Tyler is, and has promised not to tell. He claims to be convinced Tyler didn’t tamper with the car, but Tyler’s alibi for that night is really feeble – feeling ill and staying at home in his parents’ empty house. But on the other hand, it really does stretch credulity that Tyler followed them all the way to Birmingham to fiddle with the ABS in the car park.’
‘It does, yeah,’ said Strike. He ran a hand over his unshaven jaw, then said, ‘Did you believe Jones, when he said Powell never mentioned silver to him?’
‘He kind of scoffed at the idea,’ said Robin. ‘Maybe they
‘Yeah, but as we’ve got fuck-all else on Powell… incidentally, I finally made direct contact with the Scottish Gateshead on Thursday. When I asked whether she was Rena Liddell she yelled “don’t say my name” or words to that effect and hung up, so I think it’s safe to assume she is. I’ve left messages on all her old social media accounts, asking her to get back in touch. Christ knows where she is. Not London, from what she’s said. I thought she might’ve gone back to Scotland, but I had a look overnight and I can’t find a single Scottish pub called the Golden Fleece. Unless I’ve missed one, it’s a name that only appeals to the English and Welsh…
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I’m going to visit Holborn Library this morning.’
‘To find out why Scots don’t have pubs called “the Golden Fleece”?’ said Robin, nonplussed.
‘No, because I want to see if they’ve got any old plans of Freemasons’ Hall and Wild Court. I can’t find anything online, but the library might have old stuff in a file.’
‘What d’you want plans of Wild Court for?’