So it had been Phillip Ormond all along, the ex-policeman and teacher whom Edie had thought would keep her safe from all the threats and harassment. A jealous partner, stalking her as she went to meet her ex-boyfriend, stabbing both of them then leaving with their phones… Of course, it made sense of certain things. The ability of the murderer to know exactly where Edie was, the phone being used only where it would be most difficult to pinpoint who’d used it, which implied knowledge of police methods, and the extraordinarily detailed knowledge about the two new characters for the film that Yasmin had said Ormond had.
Murphy was now asking her about her own holiday plans. Robin pulled herself together enough to describe learning to ski, back at New Year. The conversation was only lightly personal, but it was pleasant and easy. Murphy made Robin laugh with a description of a friend’s accident on a dry ski slope, where he’d taken a date he was keen to impress. At no time did he mention his previous invitation for a drink, nor did he make her feel uncomfortable in this small space, and she was grateful for both these things.
They were approaching Blackhorse Road when Robin suddenly said, astounded by her own bravery,
‘Listen – that time you called me about a drink – the reason I was so – I’m not used to people asking me out.’
‘How’s that possible?’ said Murphy, keeping his eyes on the road.
‘I’ve just got divorced – well, a year ago now – from someone I was with since we were seventeen,’ said Robin. ‘So – anyway, I was in work mode when you called, and that’s why I was a bit – you know – clueless.’
‘Ah,’ said Murphy. ‘I got divorced three years ago.’
Robin wondered how old he was. She’d have guessed a couple of years older than her.
‘Have you got kids?’ she asked.
‘No. My ex didn’t want them.’
‘Oh,’ said Robin.
‘You?’
‘No.’
They’d pulled up outside her flat before either spoke again. As she picked up her bag and put her hand on the door handle, Murphy said,
‘So… if, after I get back from holiday, I called you again and asked you out…?’
It’s only a drink, said Ilsa’s voice in Robin’s head. Nobody’s saying you’ve got to jump into bed with him. An image of Madeline Courson-Miles flickered before Robin’s eyes.
‘Er –’ said Robin, whose heart was hammering. ‘Yes, OK. That’d be great.’
She thought he’d look pleased at that, but instead he seemed tense.
‘OK.’ He rubbed his nose, then said, ‘There’s something I should tell you first, though. It’s what you say, isn’t it, “come out for a drink”? But, ah – I’m an alcoholic.’
‘Oh,’ said Robin again.
‘Been sober two years, nine months,’ said Murphy. ‘I’ve got no problem with people drinking around me. Just need to put that out there. It’s what you’re supposed to do. AA rules.’
‘Well, that doesn’t make any – I mean, thanks for saying,’ said Robin. ‘I’d still like to go out some time. And thanks for the lift, I really appreciate it.’
He looked cheerful now.
‘Pleasure. Better get back to my packing.’
‘Yes – have fun in Spain!’
Robin got out of the car. As the blue Avensis pulled away, Murphy raised a hand in farewell, and Robin reciprocated, still amazed at herself. It had been quite some morning.
She’d just unlocked her front door when her mobile rang.
‘Hi,’ said Strike. ‘Is that offer of the sofa-bed still open?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Robin, both confused and pleased, entering her flat and pushing the door shut with her foot. ‘How’s Pat?’
‘Bloody grumpy. I got her home all right. Told her to get an emergency appointment with her doctor. Half the door flew off and hit her in the back. I can tell she’s sore: she could’ve cracked something. She told me to piss off, though not in those exact words. Probably thinks I’m accusing her of being too old to survive a door hitting her.’
‘Strike,’ said Robin, ‘I’ve just found something out. They’re about to arrest Phillip Ormond for murder.’
Silence followed these words. Robin walked into her kitchen and set her handbag down on the counter.
‘Ormond?’ repeated Strike.
‘Yes,’ said Robin, moving towards the kettle. She explained about Edie’s phone being turned on and off, and the sighting of Ormond throwing it into the pond in Writtle.
Another long silence followed.
‘Well,’ said Strike at last, ‘I can see why they think they’ve got their man, but I’ve still got questions.’
Robin felt strangely relieved. After telling her he’d be there by six because he needed to buy himself some essentials, Strike rang off.
73
My rival his mischief devises –
What matter? his treachery’s void.
I scorn him: I know whose the prize is.
<Moderator Channel>
<5 June 2015 15.58>
<BorkledDrek, Anomie>
<Morehouse has entered the channel>
BorkledDrek: Hey Morehouse!
Morehouse: hi
BorkledDrek: you’re not often here in the afternoon
Anomie: he’s a busy man
Morehouse: exactly
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BorkledDrek: numbers are down
Anomie: not for long
BorkledDrek: ?
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Anomie: when Maverick make their next announcement, this place is gonna explode
BorkledDrek: you know what they’re gonna say???
Anomie: the Gamemaster knows all
BorkledDrek: dude, how do u know all this stuff??
BorkledDrek: you’re an insider, right? At Maverick?
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BorkledDrek: sorry have I offended u?
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Anomie: lol no, u haven’t offended me
Anomie: I get info injected directly into my veins, my friend
BorkledDrek: so tell me
BorkledDrek: what are they gonna do?
BorkledDrek: go on, tell me, I won’t tell anyone
Anomie: I’ll tell you once you take over from Morehouse
BorkledDrek: ?
Anomie: if Morehouse has an accident I mean
BorkledDrek: lol
BorkledDrek: you want my theory?
BorkledDrek: I think you’re a mate of Josh Blay’s
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Anomie: you might be right
BorkledDrek: did you know Ledwell as well?
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Anomie: yeah
Anomie: but she fucked me over
BorkledDrek: seriously?
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