Her voice rose again and cracked. Tears now spilled out from the amber eyes; in wiping them away Edie smeared her eyeliner into broad grey streaks across her cheeks and temples. ‘My boyfriend was at work and I was just – I was feeling so fucking desperate, and then I thought, there’s only one way I can stop this. I’ve got to prove who Anomie is. Because I think I know.
‘His name’s Seb Montgomery. He was at art school with Josh. Josh got chucked out but he and Seb stayed friends. Seb helped us animate the first couple of episodes of The Ink Black Heart. He’s a good animator, but we didn’t need him as we went on, and I know he resented it once we started getting a big following, and he blamed me. It’s true I never liked him much, but I didn’t pressure Josh into dropping him, we just didn’t need him any more.
‘Seb and Josh are still friends, and Josh will tell anyone anything, he hasn’t got any kind of filter, especially when he’s pissed or stoned, which he mostly is, which is how Seb would know all the personal stuff Anomie knows about me, but what proves it’s Seb,’ said Edie, her knuckles now white on the handle of her bag, ‘is that Anomie knows something I only ever told Seb. You see, there’s this other character in the cartoon…’
Even though Robin felt genuinely sympathetic towards her uninvited guest, she glanced discreetly at her watch. The minutes were sliding by and Robin had a flat in Acton to see.
‘… called Paperwhite, she’s a ghost, and she’s caused a whole lot of fucking trouble, too – but that’s beside the – what’s relevant is, I told Seb in the pub one night that I based bits of Paperwhite’s character on my ex-flatmate. And a month ago, Anomie tweeted that, naming the flatmate.
‘I called Seb. I said to him, “Who have you told about Paperwhite and Shereece?” And he pretended he couldn’t even remember me telling him.
‘He’s lying. I know Seb’s Anomie, I know he is and I need to prove it, I’ve got to, I can’t keep on like this. Six months ago,’ Edie pressed on as Robin opened her mouth to interrupt again, ‘I joined the game myself, to look at it from the inside. It does look beautiful; whoever animated it is definitely talented, but it isn’t that good as an actual game – it’s really more of an animated chatroom. Loads of fans go in there just to slag me off, from what I can see. I tried asking the other players who Anomie was, and if they knew anything about him. Somebody must have told him I was asking too many questions, because I got banned.
‘I hardly slept last night, and I woke up this morning and just thought, I’ve got to do something about it, because I can’t carry on like this. I need a professional investigator, which is why—’
‘Edie,’ said Robin, breaking across her at last, ‘I totally understand why you want to find out who Anomie is, and I sympathise, but—’
‘Please,’ said Edie, who seemed to shrink inside her bulky coat at Robin’s tone. ‘Please help me. I’ll pay anything at this point.’
‘We don’t do work of the kind that might be needed here,’ Robin finished, truthfully. ‘I think you need somebody who specialises in cyber-investigation, which we’ve never really done. And we haven’t got—’
‘You can’t imagine what it’s like, wondering who it is, wondering who hates me this much. The way he talks… he likes Josh, but he hates me. I think he sees himself as the true – I don’t know – I think he believes he should be in total control of The Ink Black Heart, to decide the storylines and make stipulations to the film company and cast all the voice actors – that’s how he goes on, as though he should be in charge, and I’m just some inconvenient… some inconvenient parasite that got accidentally attached to the thing he loves.’
‘Listen,’ said Robin gently, ‘I’m going to give you the names of two other agencies that might be able to help, because I don’t think we’re the right fit for you.’
Robin wrote the names down for Edie and passed her the note.
‘Thank you,’ said Edie in a small voice, the paper trembling as she looked down at the names of the agencies Robin had given her. ‘I wish… I kind of wanted it to be you, but I suppose if you can’t…’
She thrust the piece of paper into her bag, and Robin resisted the urge to tell her not to lose it, which seemed only too likely. Noticing Robin looking at the bag, Edie raised it off her lap slightly.
‘I’ve only had it a month,’ she said, and turning it around she showed Robin several black stains across the dark red leather. ‘My pen exploded. I’m shit at keeping things nice. I bought it because I told myself I deserved it because we’re a success… Ha ha ha,’ she said bitterly. ‘Big fat success.’
She got to her feet, clutching her bag, and Robin rose too. The harsh office light emphasised Edie’s pallor, and as Robin moved towards her to open the door, she realised that what she’d thought was dirt or make-up on Edie’s neck was in fact bruising.
‘What happened to your neck?’
‘What?’ said Edie.
‘Your neck,’ said Robin, pointing. ‘It’s bruised.’
‘Oh.’
Edie raised a hand to where Robin had noticed the bruising.
‘That’s nothing. I’m clumsy. As you might have noticed.’
Pat looked round as Robin and Edie entered the outer office.
‘Is there a loo I could use?’ asked Edie, her voice constricted.
‘On the landing, just outside the door,’ said Robin.
‘Right. Well… bye, then.’
The glass door opened and closed, and Edie Ledwell disappeared.
7
Still she flees, and ever fiercer tear the hungry hounds behind,
Still she flees, and ever faster follow there the huntsmen on…
‘What was all that about?’ asked Pat in her gravelly voice.
‘She wanted us to investigate someone who’s persecuting her online,’ said Robin.
Even though it was true that they had no room for another client, and that the agency didn’t specialise in cyber-investigations, Robin wished she could have taken Edie Ledwell’s case. The more successful the agency had become, the higher the proportion of unlikeable individuals who gravitated towards it. Of course, those seeking to prove infidelity or treachery were by definition under a certain amount of strain, but some of their recent clients, most notably the billionaire of South Audley Street, had showed a definite tendency to treat Robin as a skivvy, and Edie Ledwell’s ingenuous ‘I was hoping for you’ had touched Robin. Through the glass door came the sound of the noisy flush of the toilet off the landing and Robin saw the dark shadow of Edie’s black coat pass the door, then heard her footsteps clanging away down the metal stairs.
‘You turned her down?’ rasped Pat, after taking a long drag on her e-cigarette.
‘Had to,’ said Robin, moving towards the kitchen area. She just had time for a cup of tea before leaving for Acton.
‘Good,’ said Pat bluntly, returning to her typing. ‘I didn’t take to her.’
‘Why not?’ said Robin, turning to look at the office manager.
‘Drama queen, if you ask me. Her hair could do with a good brush too.’
Used to Pat’s uncompromising snap judgements, which were rooted largely in people’s appearance and occasionally on their superficial resemblance to people she’d previously known, Robin didn’t bother contradicting her.