But, of course, his own ability to do the job might soon be taken from him. A divorce and custody battle between Charlotte and Jago, with their ancestral castle up in Scotland and Charlotte’s fractured, photogenic and scandal-prone family, would fill endless columns of newsprint, and unless he did something to prevent it Strike’s name and picture would be dotted all over those pages too, with the result that his only chance of continuing to do the job for which he’d sacrificed so much would be extensive facial surgery. Failing that, he’d be reduced to a deskbound director, watching Robin and the subcontractors do all the actual investigative work, while he grew a little fatter every year, schmoozing clients in the office and making sure the accounts were in order.
Strike stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette, picked up his mobile and called Dev Shah, who answered on the second ring.
‘What’s up?’
‘Where are you currently?’
‘Newman Street, waiting for Montgomery to leave work,’ said Dev. ‘His girlfriend’s here with a couple of mates. Looks like they’re going drinking somewhere local.’
‘Great,’ said Strike. ‘I want a quiet word with you. Let me know when they reach their destination and I’ll join you.’
‘Will do,’ said Shah, and Strike rang off.
26
And I walked as if apart
From myself, when I could stand,
And I pitied my own heart,
As if I held it in my hand…
Robin’s feet were behaving quite normally as she moved through Soho, as though they were transporting a normal human being who belonged in the physical world and wasn’t full of a numb sense of disconnect.
She recognised this feeling. She’d had it once before, after she’d found her ex-husband’s mistress’s diamond earring in her bedroom. While waiting for Matthew to come home, she’d experienced precisely this strange, out-of-body sensation, during which she’d viewed the room in which she sat as though from a distance of years, knowing that she’d never be there again and that she’d one day look back upon that brief sliver of time as a turning point in her life.
I’m in love with him.
She’d been kidding herself too long. This wasn’t friendship or mere fondness: you didn’t feel as though all your intestines had been seared with dry ice when you found out your friend was sleeping with someone new. But what a brutal way to be forced into facing the truth. It would have been so much easier if the realisation had crept gently upon her in the golden haze of the Ritz, while consuming cocktails that might have anaesthetised her against the shock, or while contemplating the fang-like peak of the Matterhorn, where she’d have had time and space to deal with a truth she’d preferred not to face.
When had Strike’s new relationship started? How soon after that moment on the pavement outside the Ritz? Because she couldn’t believe he’d been dating then; no matter how angry she felt at him right now, he surely hadn’t held her, and moved to kiss her, when there was a girlfriend in the background, expecting to see him later.
Her mobile rang in her bag. She didn’t want it to be Strike; she didn’t think she could stand talking to him right now. To her relief, it was an unknown number.
‘Robin Ellacott.’
‘Hi,’ said a male voice. ‘Ryan Murphy here.’
‘Ryan…’ said Robin, unable to think who this was.
‘DCI Murphy. I came to your office about Edie Led—’
‘Oh,’ said Robin, ‘yes, of course. Sorry.’
‘Is this a convenient time?’
‘Yes,’ said Robin, trying to focus.
‘I wanted to check a couple of points with you, if you don’t mind.’
‘No, carry on,’ said Robin as her feet still carried her onwards in the direction of the restaurant Ilsa wouldn’t reach for another hour and a half.
‘I wondered whether, when she came to see you, Edie Ledwell mentioned a woman called Yasmin Weatherhead?’
‘No, she didn’t,’ said Robin, and as though she’d stepped back inside an office in her mind she heard herself say perfectly calmly, ‘Is this the assistant, who used to help Edie and Josh with fan mail?’
‘That’s the one,’ said Murphy.
‘She was the person who took this dossier of supposed “proof” that Edie was Anomie to Josh?’
‘Already there, are you?’ said Murphy, who sounded mildly impressed. ‘Yeah, that’s her.’
‘We’ve heard the dossier wasn’t in the cemetery when Josh and Edie were found.’
‘Have you got some tame policeman in your pocket who’s leaking to you?’
‘No,’ said Robin. ‘It came from a bit of surveillance.’
‘Ah, OK. Well, you’re right, we didn’t find it in the cemetery. Sorry – we’re a bit sensitive about leaks right now. I assume you saw the Times article?’
‘About The Halvening? Yes.’
‘Not helpful, having that splashed across the front page. We weren’t aiming to let them know we’re watching them.’
‘No, I’m sure,’ said Robin. ‘How’s the investigation going?’
She asked mainly because she wanted a brief respite from thinking about Strike.
Murphy made a noise midway between a sigh and a grunt.
‘Well, we might have cast our net a bit too widely asking the public whether they’d noticed any unusual activity in or around Highgate Cemetery. We’ve heard about two stolen pushbikes in the vicinity of the cemetery and an out-of-control Alsatian on Hampstead Heath, but no mention of a suspicious person running away from the scene, or anyone disguised or behaving strangely within the cemetery at the time they were stabbed. We’re currently examining Ledwell’s and Blay’s phone records.’
‘The killer took Blay’s mobile, didn’t they?’
‘You sure you aren’t getting information from my department?’
‘That came out of the same bit of surveillance.’
‘Both phones were missing. D’you know what happened to Ledwell’s?’
‘No,’ said Robin, and in spite of her underlying shock and misery, her interest quickened.
‘This might yet come out in the press, because police were seen dragging the ponds, but don’t shout it around, please. According to the satellite signal, Ledwell’s phone moved out of the cemetery and onto Hampstead Heath after she was killed. As far as we can tell, it was turned off near Highgate Number One Pond. We’ve dragged the pond, and the one beside it, but the phone wasn’t in either.’
‘The killer took the phone out of the cemetery and onto Hampstead Heath?’
‘That’s what it looks like.’
‘What about Blay’s phone?’
‘It was turned off around the time we think he was stabbed. Possibly the killer didn’t realise they hadn’t turned off Ledwell’s until they got onto the Heath. Anyway—’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Robin, assuming Murphy needed to go.
‘No, er, actually – um – ha,’ said Murphy. ‘I was, er, going to ask whether you’d be free for a drink this weekend.’
‘Oh,’ said Robin, ‘well, I’d have to check the rota. Would you want Strike there too?’
‘Would I – what, sorry?’
‘Are you looking to speak to both of us, or—?’
‘I – no, I was actually asking whether you’d – whether you’d be free for a drink in the – the date sense.’
‘Oh,’ said Robin as a fresh wave of mortification rolled over her, ‘I’m sorry, I thought – I’m working all weekend.’