Groomer and Legs were standing with their backs to Robin on the other side of the room, discussing the symbolism of the pelican in a design by Edward Burne-Jones. Precisely as Legs’ mother had feared, her departure for Iraq, where she’d been sent to report on the destruction by Daesh of the ancient archaeological site of Nimrud, had coincided with her daughter taking a day off school, presumably on pretence of sickness. Ten minutes after her schoolfriend’s parents had left for work, Groomer had arrived to take Legs for a day out. Robin had followed in Strike’s BMW, which she’d borrowed because she’d previously used her own ancient Land Rover to follow the schoolgirl. Given that she’d worried the couple were heading for a hotel, Robin had been pleasantly surprised when her targets pulled into the car park of the William Morris Gallery.
Robin felt she’d learned a great deal about Legs and Groomer’s relationship while wandering from room to room in their wake, eavesdropping on their conversation. Apparently Legs had evinced an interest in the Arts and Crafts movement, and she was now trying to live up to what Robin suspected had been a chance remark, while Groomer treated her opinions and insights with a flattering seriousness. The hand-kissing witnessed by Midge hadn’t been repeated, although Groomer had placed a hand lightly on Legs’ back between two of the gallery’s rooms, and had also picked something invisible out of her long blonde hair. Legs herself was clearly smitten to a degree she was finding it impossible to conceal, and Robin could only imagine how gratifying the forty-year-old was finding the teenager’s gasping laughs at his lightest witticism, her adoring gaze as he held forth on the Pre-Raphaelites and her frequent blushes as he praised her knowledge and her insights, all of which sounded to a cynical Robin as though they’d been hastily mugged up on from Wikipedia.
Having explained the Christian symbolism of the pelican, which was feeding her chicks with her own blood, Groomer wondered aloud whether Legs was ready for a coffee, and after lingering for another couple of minutes in apparent admiration of Adam, Robin followed them to the café, a space of glass and exposed brick that looked out onto the gallery’s gardens.
She’d just bought herself a cappuccino when her mobile rang.
‘Hi,’ she said quietly to Strike, ‘give me a mo, I’ve got to find somewhere to sit.’
Having paid for her coffee, she took a seat with an unimpeded view of Groomer and Legs, then raised her mobile to her ear again.
‘OK, I’m here. What’s up?’
‘Quite a bit,’ said Strike. ‘Can you talk?’
‘I should be fine for fifteen minutes at least,’ said Robin, watching Legs giggling and throwing her hair back over her shoulders, her coffee so far untouched.
‘Don’t suppose you’ve seen today’s Times?’
‘No. Why?’
Strike gave Robin a precis of the front-page story about The Halvening.
‘So you were right,’ said Robin. ‘It was a terrorist attack.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘But—’
‘Ledwell was on this Halvening group’s Indirect Action list. They were trying to whip up enough harassment to tip her into killing herself. They weren’t planning to murder her, and they don’t seem to have stabbed anyone so far. According to The Times, their preferred m.o. is pipe bombs.’
‘Well,’ said Robin, staring out over the gallery’s sweeping lawns, ‘maybe they spotted an opportunity and decided to kill her rather than wait for her to do it herself?’
‘But why stab Blay? There’s no mention of him being on either list. It seems to be left-wing women they’ve got a problem with.’
‘Stabbing Blay might not have been planned. He could’ve got in the way of the attacker. Maybe he tried to defend her.’
‘I’d still have thought it made more sense to kill her when she was alone, if they were intent on murder. Two targets means a good chance of one of them escaping or raising the alarm. Of course,’ Strike added, ‘we don’t know how many assailants there were. Nothing to say there was only one.’
‘They might not have known Blay was going to be there until they arrived. Come to that, how did the attacker know Ledwell was going to be in the cemetery that afternoon?’
‘Excellent question,’ said Strike. ‘Well, there’s a chance we’ll be able to find out, if you’re up for it. I’ve just got off the phone from Edie Ledwell’s agent, Allan Yeoman.’
‘Seriously?’ said Robin, who’d experienced one of the familiar charges of excitement that were the reward of the job, and which usually resulted from an unexpected discovery, the sudden opening of a new vista.
‘Yeah. He wants to know whether we’d be prepared to have a meeting – and not just with him. There’d also be a bloke called Richard Elgar, who’s the head of Maverick Films in the UK, plus Edie’s aunt and uncle. He’s suggesting we all have lunch at the Arts Club on Dover Street next week. He wants to know whether we’d be up for finding out who Anomie is.’
‘But we’re still full up with cases,’ groaned Robin.
‘Not as full as we were. Dev’s just called: he’s taken care of the patent-pending guy. Found the leaker in his office, got pictures of her with the head of a rival firm.’
‘Quick work,’ said Robin, impressed, before returning to the main point. ‘But why does Edie Ledwell’s agent want to find out who Anomie is now?’
‘Yeoman said he’d rather tell us that in person, but I gathered Anomie’s still making a nuisance of themselves.’
‘Did you tell Allan Yeoman we don’t really do cyber-investigation?’
‘I did, yeah, but he doesn’t seem to think that’s an issue. I’d imagine we’ll find out why if we agree to lunch. Anyway, I’m assuming you’d rather tackle Anomie than whichever trophy wife is trying to secure a fatter divorce settlement this week?’
‘Definitely,’ said Robin.
‘Yeah, me too. OK, I’ll call Yeoman back and tell him we can do next Tuesday. Happy lech hunting.’
He hung up and Robin, though excited by the prospect of the new case, returned her attention to Groomer and Legs, who were now nose to nose, whispering to each other.
17
Is this a stupid thing to say
Not having spent with you one day?
No matter; I shall never touch your hair
Or hear the little tick behind your breast…
<A new private channel has opened>
<13 March 2015 14.31>
<Paperwhite invites Morehouse>
<Morehouse joins the channel>
Paperwhite: I’ve been in here for ages waiting for you to show up! Where have you been?
Morehouse: Talking to Anomie
Paperwhite: Did you see, in the news?
Morehouse: The Halvening stuff? yes
>
>