‘Nothing she fancied,’ said Robin, as they turned to walk after her. ‘I think she’s Christmas shopping.’
‘Christ, don’t remind me,’ groaned Strike. ‘I fucking hate it. I’d pay a grand for someone to do it for me.’
‘Where are you spending Christmas?’ Robin asked. For the first time in six years, both partners would be free over the holidays.
‘Lucy’s,’ said Strike. ‘I couldn’t get out of it, not right after Ted dying. I’ve got to go to the Christmas Eve party with all the neighbours, too. I’d rather eat my own fucking feet. What are you up to?’
‘Ryan and I are going to Mum and Dad’s. I’m dreading that too, to be honest,’ said Robin.
‘Really?’ said Strike. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ sighed Robin. ‘It’s just families, isn’t it? The house is going to be packed…’
But there was so much she couldn’t say. There would be two pregnant women in the house, her sister-in-law, Jenny, and her brother Martin’s girlfriend; none of the family knew about Robin’s recent hospitalisation, but she didn’t doubt there’d be a lot of baby and pregnancy talk, and she was afraid Murphy might use that as an excuse to start talking about egg freezing again.
‘… I’d like to stay in London and do my own thing, but it feels as though you’re not allowed to do that unless you’ve got kids.’
‘You’re not allowed even then,’ said Strike. ‘Joan would have been mortally offended if Lucy and Greg hadn’t turned up every year with her great-nephews.’
Ahead, their target threw back her mane of professionally blow-dried hair as she walked.
‘So,’ said Strike. ‘Do we take the case? It’s your call.’
‘Well… from all you’ve said, if we don’t do it, she’ll just hire someone else.’
‘I agree. And we won’t string her along.’
‘No,’ agreed Robin, ‘and I must admit, I’m getting interested in that body, too.’
‘But as I say, if it’ll cause you trouble—’
‘Call her back, and tell her we’ll do it,’ said Robin.
‘You sure?’
‘Definitely,’ said Robin.
‘I’ll ring her now,’ said Strike, drawing out his mobile.
Robin listened to Strike’s side of the call, feeling particularly warm towards him, appreciative of his consideration with regard to Murphy, and grateful that he’d passed off her lie about Bijou Watkins as a joke.
‘Right, I’ll get that contract to you,’ Strike was saying. ‘Right… yeah… no problem at all. Our pleasure.’
He hung up.
‘Very grateful,’ he said. ‘More tears.’
The two partners walked on in silence, Strike thoroughly satisfied with his last ten minutes’ work. He’d just made an excellent start in establishing that he was no longer interested in casual affairs by saying what he had about Bijou Watkins, and Robin had agreed to the investigation, in spite of her boyfriend’s clear disapproval. No matter the risks, no matter the possible fallout, he now intended to seize the first auspicious moment to tell her what he felt, and if no such opportunity arose naturally, he’d engineer one.
PART TWO
John Oxenham
14
Albert Pike
‘Where are you?’ were Strike’s opening words on the second of December, when Robin answered his call.
‘On the A40,’ said Robin, who was having to speak loudly because she was in her decrepit Land Rover, which didn’t have Bluetooth. ‘Mrs A’s staying near Stroud. I’m taking over from Midge.’
‘Kim’ll do Stroud,’ said Strike. ‘I’ve just got off a call from the owner of Ramsay Silver. I didn’t expect him to be so keen to talk to us; he nearly bit my hand off. He wants to know if we can go along there today at one.’
‘OK, great,’ said Robin, who was considerably more interested in seeing the site of William Wright’s murder than she was in staring at a deserted croquet lawn from behind a hedge. ‘I’ll come back.’
‘Meet you outside Freemasons’ Hall at half twelve.’