Having ticked Mr A off the list of things to discuss, Strike moved on to Decima Mullins. While he gave the others an overview of the current position, omitting mention of Decima’s baby, Kim reiterated her hope that one of her police contacts might be prepared to share the DNA findings on the body in the silver shop vault. Robin waited on tenterhooks for Murphy’s response, which was slow coming; the detectives had already discussed various expense-related matters, the subcontractors’ upcoming Christmas and New Year leave requirements, and agreed a couple of job swaps, before at last it appeared.
Yeah ok but we’ll do it face to face and NOBODY ELSE can know I’ve given you anything. It’s properly sensitive.
Robin looked up. Pat was removing a homemade iced cake from the tin decorated with pictures of Princess Diana. E-cigarette clamped firmly between her teeth, she stuck two candles in it, a large four and a two.
‘Wasn’t gonna put the lot on,’ she told Strike, carrying it over to the desk. ‘Fire hazard.’
Strike did his best to look appreciative while ‘Happy Birthday’ was being sung. Noticing the forced nature of Strike’s smile, Robin started to laugh before the song was finished, noting with gratitude that laughter no longer caused her much pain. Strike, unwillingly amused by Robin’s amusement, found himself genuinely grinning by the time Pat instructed him to blow out his candles.
‘Did you make a wish?’ asked Kim archly, as Pat began cutting everyone slices.
Strike, who hadn’t, didn’t answer.
‘Strike, could I have a quick word after this, about Decima Mullins?’ asked Robin.
‘Yeah, definitely,’ said Strike, accepting a bit of chocolate sponge from Pat. ‘I’ve got a couple of things to tell you, as well.’
Robin took secret satisfaction at the sight of a flicker of annoyance on Kim’s face.
11
Robert Browning
Once the subcontractors had finished their cake and departed for their various jobs, Strike and Robin moved into the inner office, where the window was misted with fine rain. As Robin closed the door on Pat, Strike said,
‘Midge hasn’t exactly been a ray of sunshine lately.’
‘Kim talked over her,’ Robin pointed out.
‘I don’t just mean that. She’s been in a foul mood all this week.’
‘She and Tasha aren’t doing so well,’ said Robin, who’d heard the full story of Midge’s relationship troubles the last time she and Midge handed over surveillance on Mrs A. ‘Tasha’s away filming and Midge thinks she might be up to something with her leading man.’
Strike made an indeterminate noise. His subcontractors’ difficult love lives were of minimal interest to him; his own was giving him quite enough grief.
‘Ryan’s managed to get some information for us, on the body in the vault,’ Robin continued. ‘He knows someone who was on the case.’
‘Ah,’ said Strike. ‘Great.’
He didn’t like having to be obliged to Murphy for it, but information was still information.
‘I know it’s your birthday, so you’ve probably got plans,’ Robin went on, ‘but if you were free to come over to my place tonight, you could hear what he’s got directly from him. He doesn’t want to text it. Apparently it’s very sensitive.’
‘Yeah, I could do that,’ said Strike, whose plans for the evening had comprised lying on his bed drinking beer while watching Arsenal play Paris Saint-Germain in the Champions League, which wasn’t what he’d told Lucy, who thought he was being taken out to dinner by his friends Nick and Ilsa.
Robin picked up a photo lying on the desk.
‘Is this what you wanted to show me?’
‘No, but you should see it anyway,’ said Strike. ‘That’s Rupert Fleetwood.’
While Robin was examining Rupert Fleetwood’s round face and broad shoulders, and his waiter’s uniform of burgundy bow tie and waistcoat, Strike said,
‘I called Shanker last night, to see if he’s heard of a big-time coke dealer who might go by the name of “Dredge”.’
Shanker, as Robin knew, was the name of a career criminal Strike had known since the age of seventeen. She had a fondness for him Strike felt was at least partially ill-advised.
‘And?’ asked Robin.
‘He knew who I was talking about. Fleetwood’s idiot housemate definitely tangled with the wrong bloke. I’ve asked Shanker to have a sniff around for me, find out whether this Dredge might’ve bumped off any ex-public schoolboys lately. Usual rates,’ Strike added.
Friends though they were, Shanker wasn’t a man who performed services for free.
‘Well, that’s good,’ said Robin. ‘I read your email about Rupert’s aunt, by the way. She doesn’t sound exactly cosy.’
‘Old-school dragon,’ said Strike. ‘Zero affection or concern. Mind you, we don’t know the backstory. Maybe he robbed her blind before leaving Switzerland for England.’
‘But she said he’s in New York?’