‘Only people who need it,’ said Longcaster.
He seemed genuinely frustrated, almost pained, that Robin wasn’t better groomed and attired. She remembered Albie’s description of the man as one who wanted to live in a completely controlled world, that he thought it a sin to be badly dressed or overweight, and she thought of Decima, and what it would mean to grow up with this man as a father.
Cosima now entered the room. Neglecting to thank the waiter who’d held open the door for her, she sat down in a chair between Robin and her father, facing the fire. Robin could tell the girl was extremely ill at ease, though pretending not to be so. She threw back her long blonde hair, smoothed down the skirt of her short red dress, crossed her legs, smiled at her father and said,
‘Hi, Daddy.’
‘I’ve just been informed,’ said Longcaster, ‘that the jellyfish gatecrashed Sacha Legard’s birthday party.’
Cosima gave a forced laugh at the word ‘jellyfish’, but her father didn’t look amused.
‘And I hear you and Valentine spoke to him there.’
‘Only a bit,’ said Cosima. ‘It was nothing.’
‘Why didn’t you alert the police to his whereabouts?’ asked Longcaster. ‘Or call me, so I could do so?’
‘He just – he was there one moment, and then he left,’ said Cosima. ‘There wouldn’t have been time for the police to get him. He just sort of walked in and walked straight out again.’
Her right hand was playing with a set of gold rings on her left. She re-crossed her legs.
‘Sacha told my partner Rupert said or did something to make you cry,’ said Robin.
‘That’s—’
Robin could tell Cosima wanted to deny it, but that meant calling the famous, handsome actor a liar.
‘I think I actually – I wasn’t crying about Rupert.’
‘Sacha says you were,’ said Robin. ‘He says Rupert upset you.’
‘No, he didn’t,’ said Cosima, her colour mounting. ‘You weren’t there, you don’t know what happened. I was upset because he’d just, like, burst in on Sachy’s party, OK?’
‘You just said you weren’t crying about Rupert,’ said Robin.
She expected Longcaster to intervene, to protect his favourite child from her questions, but on the contrary, the club owner was staring at Cosima with a none-too-friendly look on his jowly face.
‘I wasn’t – there was a ton of drama going on that night, OK, I just felt kinda overwhelmed and then Rupert turning up was, like, the final straw, I thought there was gonna be a scene—’
‘What kind of scene?’ asked Robin.
‘Just, you know, that security would be involved and, like, people would think Val and I had invited Rupert or something—’
‘Why would anyone think you’d invited him?’ asked Robin. ‘Neither of you were friends with him, were you? He just worked here for a bit. Wouldn’t people be much more likely to think Sacha had invited Rupert, given that they’re cousins?’
‘Look,’ said Cosima, who’d flushed a deeper red, ‘I was just upset that night, OK, and I was, like, disgusted he showed up, after he stole Daddy’s silver thing—’
‘But not disgusted enough to call the police,’ said Longcaster.
‘It was so quick, Daddy, one minute he was there and the next—’
‘He was there long enough to argue with Valentine, wasn’t he?’ said Robin.
‘I think Val just, um, like, he saw Rupert, and I think he tried to get him to leave,’ said Cosima, still flushed.
‘Again, that’s not what Sacha Legard says,’ said Robin. ‘He says Rupert arrived there looking for a fight. He sought out Valentine, rather than the other way round.’
‘Well, I don’t – I didn’t see everything, it was really crowded, I don’t know what happened. God, what’s the big deal?’ said Cosima, with a false laugh. ‘Why d’you even care?’
‘I told you why, outside,’ said Robin. ‘Your sister’s very worried about Rupert. He’s disappeared.’
‘That’s not my fault,’ said Cosima, but a curious look of panic crossed her lovely face. ‘That’s not on me. I didn’t know – it’s not my fault.’
‘You “didn’t know” what?’ said Robin.
‘I meant, I didn’t make him steal the ship thing, it’s not my fault he went off.’
‘That’ll do,’ said Longcaster, as Robin opened her mouth to reply. He pressed the brass bell beside him again. ‘I think we’ve heard enough from you, Miss—’
‘Ellacott,’ said Robin.
The waiter who’d previously brought their drinks now reappeared.
‘Miss Ellacott’s leaving, Oliver.’
Longcaster got to his feet, waking the Pyrenean Mountain Dog, which stretched and wagged its tail.
‘Goodbye,’ said Longcaster, holding out a hand to shake Robin’s. ‘Interesting visit.’
‘Goodbye,’ said Robin. ‘Thank you for the drink.’
She caught Cosima’s eye once more as she left the room. The girl looked mutinous, but also, Robin thought, scared.
97
But still, as we proceed,
The mass swells more and more
Of volumes yet to read,
Of secrets yet to explore.
On the rainy evening of the first of March, Strike, tired after an afternoon’s tedious surveillance of Mrs Two-Times, which he’d just handed over to Wardle, made a detour to House of Computers on Tottenham Court Road to buy a new laptop. He then dropped in at the Flying Horse, where he called the agency’s usual tech man, and received instructions on installing an anonymising browser on to the new device. It seemed foolish not to enjoy a couple of pints and a burger since he was there, so it was half past eight before he finally headed home.
On entering Denmark Street he was surprised to see a light on in the office window, because Robin had the evening off, and Pat was the only other member of the agency who had keys. He climbed the metal staircase to the second floor and entered through the engraved glass door.
Robin was sitting in her usual seat at the partners’ desk, a half-eaten pizza at her elbow and a wide variety of research materials spread before her, including the plans of Wild Court and Freemasons’ Hall Strike had procured from Holborn Library. She had personal reasons for wanting to stay at the office instead of going home, and one of them was that her anxiety about being followed or threatened remained acute. Absorbed in everything she was reading and examining, she’d lost track of the time and jumped when she heard Strike’s key in the lock. Seeing it was him, though, her heart lifted far more (as she instantly and guiltily realised) than it ought to have done.
‘Sorry,’ she said automatically, before realising this was nonsensical.
‘No need to apologise, it’s your office too,’ said Strike. ‘What’re you doing here so late? Thought you had the night off.’
‘Ryan had to work, so I thought I might as well keep at it,’ said Robin.
This wasn’t entirely true. Murphy was indeed busy, but the second reason Robin hadn’t wanted to go home too early was that she feared her boyfriend might drop in at her flat ‘as a surprise’. He was currently alternating between neediness and tetchiness. The latter was undoubtedly down to the pain of withdrawal after an abrupt cessation of drinking, but he kept trying to pin Robin down with plans, to pepper the calendar with future commitments, seeking guarantees that they’d still be together in six, eight, twelve weeks’ time. The previous evening he’d suggested spending his rapidly approaching thirty-fourth birthday in San Sebastián, where his sister lived. Robin had said she’d think about it. She was currently resistant to any arrangement that couldn’t be easily cancelled.