He was looking at the old advert as he spoke, because Robin had sent it to him by email: second-hand weights, sold by a man in Dagenham in May of the previous year. Robin had already contacted the seller, and been told that a man called Will had purchased them for cash; he’d been delighted with them, because he hadn’t imagined such a set existed.
‘I’m nervous about you going it alone again,’ said Robin, refusing to be flattered out of her concerns.
‘I won’t be alone, I’m taking Barclay and Wardle.’
‘Going rogue, then. In the sense of getting arrested for breaking and entering again.’
‘This’ll be different.’
‘How?’
‘If I’m lucky, I’ll get in and out without anyone knowing I was ever there. You’re the one who thinks this might be life and death.’
Robin had indeed said this towards the beginning of the call, but two hours of circular discussion later she was feeling rather less optimistic.
‘That might’ve been wishful thinking. I hate saying this, but Sapphire Neagle might be dead. There’s been no sign of her in months and we know he’s got no qualms about killing people who’ve outlived their usefulness.’
‘Well, if you and Midge are successful at Ramsay Silver tomorrow morning, we’ll have solid evidence at least part of our theory’s right. Did I tell you Ramsays has been closed up ever since they found out Todd was murdered?’
‘No,’ said Robin. ‘Why?’
‘Apparently the assistant walked out, afraid she might be the next employee killed, his wife’s in no fit state to return to work and he’s barely clinging on at his financial services job. He says he’s going to declare bankruptcy.’
‘Oh no,’ said Robin.
‘You’ve always felt sorrier for him than he deserves,’ said Strike. ‘I know about the dead son and the ill wife, but the man’s an idiot.’
‘All right, calm down,’ said Robin, in mild surprise at Strike’s grouchy tone. ‘People make mistakes.’
‘Yeah, and I’ve made plenty, but I’m not sentimental about people who make easily avoidable, repeated fuck-ups and that bloody shop was a fuck-up from the start.’
He heard beeping.
‘Got another call?’
‘Yes, sorry – I’ll have to take this, it’s Ryan. I’ll—’
‘Fine, speak to you tomorrow,’ said Strike curtly, and he rang off.
‘Hi,’ Robin said to her boyfriend.
‘Everything OK with you?’ asked Murphy.
‘Great,’ she answered, because what else could she say?
‘What’s going on with you?’ she asked. ‘How’s the pipe bomb guy?’
‘Confirmed as a kid with interpersonal problems,’ said Murphy. ‘Nothing to do with the Westminster attack.’
‘Good,’ said Robin, though she wasn’t sure why. Bombs were bombs. Perhaps it was a relief to think the youth had turned murderous alone, not as part of an organisation. Her sense of foreboding had been increasing throughout her conversation with Strike; Oz had an unknown number of associates.
‘Anyway,’ said Murphy, ‘I’ve been thinking about my birthday.’
It took Robin a few seconds to recalibrate her brain to everyday life. Of course, Murphy’s birthday was fast approaching: she’d need to buy him a present, in addition to those she still hadn’t purchased for her new nephews.
‘I’ve booked the restaurant at the Ritz,’ said Murphy. ‘I was thinking, we don’t push the boat out often enough. I’m giving you plenty of notice so you can get the night off, all right? Because they’ve got my credit card number.’
‘Oh,’ said Robin blankly. ‘OK. I mean – right, I’ll make sure I’ve got it off.’
Fearing she’d been insufficiently enthusiastic, she added,
‘That’ll be lovely, the Ritz.’
But after Murphy had hung up, Robin sat frozen, staring at the Raoul Dufy print hanging above her mantelpiece. It showed a seascape viewed through two open windows, and it added a trace of yearning to her sudden feeling of panic.
Her boyfriend’s preference when eating out had always been gastropubs. Never, in the whole of their relationship, had he suggested going anywhere as fancy as the Ritz. It wasn’t that he was parsimonious: on the contrary, he was a generous tipper, the first to offer to buy a round, but he’d never shown the slightest inclination for French food, or the kind of restaurant for which you needed to dress up.