Standing in the chilly rain on Wednesday afternoon, watching the front of Dino’s, Robin told herself she was doing the right thing. She and Murphy had been through a lot together and she truly cared about him. Walking out on him at this point would be wanton cruelty. She’d decide later, when he was back on an even emotional keel, whether… but this was a thought she kept refusing to finish. Charlotte Campbell, in a blood-filled bath; Kim’s ex-boyfriend, in his carbon monoxide-filled car. She couldn’t leave Murphy now.
Work wasn’t proving much of a distraction today. Robin doubted she was going to get much out of shivering beneath her umbrella for hours, even though she’d concluded that her only realistic possibility of speaking to Cosima face to face was when the girl was either entering or leaving Dino’s, which was the only place she ever seemed to go without a posse of friends. The trouble was that there were only a few short steps between the street and the club’s front door, over which a doorman in a burgundy tail coat and top hat stood guard. Nevertheless, experience had taught Robin that a sudden, unexpected approach sometimes surprised answers out of interviewees, and the agency’s lack of progress in discovering Rupert Fleetwood’s whereabouts had decided her on this last-ditch effort.
As she stood there, scanning the rainswept road for some sign of her quarry, the hypervigilant Robin noticed a middle-aged man sitting in a parked Honda Accord a short distance from her Land Rover. He seemed to have been watching her, because he turned his head quickly when Robin looked at him. He had thick greying hair and an unusually small nose, which resembled a button mushroom in the middle of a large, square face. Robin continued watching him, wondering whether she should be worried. He looked larger and softer than the man who’d brandished the masonic dagger at her. She shifted position slightly, hoping to see his number plate, but then spotted Dino Longcaster’s chauffeured Mercedes gliding down the road, and recognised Cosima, sitting alone in the back seat.
She almost ran to the opposite pavement. By the time the car pulled up, Robin was waiting, ready for Cosima to get out. The girl took her time about it, first brushing her long hair and reapplying lip gloss while looking in a flip-down mirror in the car’s ceiling, and typing out what appeared to be a text before finally putting her belongings in her bag and opening the passenger door.
‘Cosima,’ said Robin at once, as the doorman came rushing towards the pair, holding a large burgundy umbrella.
The girl looked at Robin in surprise.
‘My name’s Robin Ellacott. I’m a private detective. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about Rupert—’
‘What?’ said Cosima, staring at Robin, while the doorman sheltered her from the rain with his umbrella.
‘—Rupert Fleetwood. What did he say to you at Sacha Legard’s birthday party?’
‘I – what?’ said Cosima again, but colour had flooded her pale face. ‘I don’t – leave me alone!’
‘Cosima, you must know Rupert’s gone missing,’ said Robin, hurrying alongside the girl as she strode towards the entrance of Dino’s. ‘Your sister’s incredibly worried about him, and—’
‘
The doorman, who was a tall man in his fifties, said,
‘You’ve had your orders. Get out of here.’
‘This is a public pavement,’ Robin replied coldly.
She retreated into a doorway a short way from Dino’s, wondering what her next move should be. She supposed there was a remote possibility that Cosima, like Fyola Fay, might come back to find out what Robin already knew, but she wasn’t banking on it.
Robin’s eye fell again on the parked Honda Accord containing the man with the nose like a button mushroom. Once again, he turned his head away hastily when Robin looked at him. She couldn’t see the Accord’s number plate at all from this position. Wondering whether it mightn’t be a good idea to move so as to make a note of it, she was distracted by the sound of heavy footsteps to her left, and turned to see Dino Longcaster approaching, large and beautifully suited, with his dully gleaming cannonball of a head.
‘I hear you’ve been pestering my daughter,’ he drawled.
‘Not pestering,’ said Robin, forcing herself to sound unruffled, because Longcaster was intimidating both in size and manner. ‘Just asking a question.’
‘Could you spare me five minutes?’ said Dino Longcaster, looking at her down his long nose. ‘Inside the club?’
‘Of course,’ said Robin.
‘Thank you, Joshua,’ said Longcaster, as they passed the doorman.
‘Mr Longcaster, sir,’ muttered the attendant, touching his top hat, and he looked away as Robin passed him, revealing his earpiece and microphone.