After a short pause, he went on:
‘I used to be an independent music publisher.’
‘Really? What kind of—?’
‘Largely ecclesiastical. We had an extensive—’
The electrically operated door from the landing opened and a girl of around twelve walked in. She had long dark hair and wore thick-lensed glasses and a fleece onesie patterned like a Christmas pudding, with a sprig of holly on the hood. Either the presence of strangers or her mother’s absence seemed to disconcert her, and she turned to leave without speaking, but was called back by her father.
‘What did I tell you, Flavia?’ he demanded.
‘Not to come—’
‘Not to come anywhere near me,’ said Inigo. ‘If you’re ill enough to be off school, you should be in bed. Now get out.’
Flavia pressed the button opening the electric door and departed.
‘I have to be exceptionally careful about viruses,’ Inigo told Strike and Robin.
Another pause ensued, until Inigo said,
‘Well, this is all a bloody fine mess, isn’t it?’
‘What’s that?’ asked Strike.
‘These stabbings and what have you,’ said Inigo.
‘Certainly is,’ said the detective.
‘Katya’s at the hospital nearly every day… She won’t be able to press the button if she’s holding a tray,’ he added, looking towards the door, but as he spoke the door opened again. Gus had accompanied his mother upstairs to press the button for her. Robin saw Gus try to duck out of sight again, but Inigo called him back into the room.
‘Been practising?’
‘Yes,’ said Gus a little defensively, and he showed his father the calloused fingertips of his left hand, in which were deep grooves made by the strings.
‘Did you hear him as you came to the door?’ Inigo asked Robin, who wasn’t sure whether Inigo was fishing for vicarious compliments or thought his son might be lying.
‘We did, yes,’ she said. ‘It was beautiful.’
Looking self-conscious, Gus edged towards the door again.
‘Heard from Darcy, darling?’ his mother asked him.
‘No,’ said Gus, and before anyone could ask him anything else he slid out of the room. The electric door swung closed. Katya whispered,
‘We think he’s split up with his girlfriend.’
‘There’s no need to whisper, we’re soundproofed,’ said Inigo, and with sudden vehemence he said, ‘And she’s a bloody waste of time if she can’t stick by a man when he’s sick, isn’t she? So why d’you keep pestering him about her? Good riddance.’
The short silence that followed was enlivened by Freddie Mercury, now singing a different song.
‘Turn that off, will you?’ Inigo barked at Katya, who hurried off to do so.
‘Inigo’s a musician too,’ she said with brittle brightness as she returned and began handing around mugs.
‘Was,’ Inigo corrected her. ‘Until this bloody thing happened.’
He gestured towards his chair.
‘What did you play?’ asked Strike.
‘Guitar and keyboards… band… songwriter too.’
‘What kind of music?’
‘Rock,’ said Inigo with a faint flicker of animation, ‘when we were doing our own stuff. A few covers. Nothing of your father’s,’ he shot at Strike, who registered with silent amusement Inigo’s sudden swerve away from pretending he’d forgotten the detectives were coming to knowing Strike’s parentage. ‘Could’ve gone the classical route, like Gus – had the ability – but there you are, I never did the expected thing. Despair of my parents. You’re looking at a bishop’s son… Nobody much appreciated rock music at home…’
Turning to his wife he added:
‘Flavia was just in here, by the way. If she’s got a fever she shouldn’t be anywhere near me.’
‘I know, I’m sorry, darling,’ said Katya, who remained standing. ‘She’s just bored up there, you know.’
‘Our problem child,’ said Inigo, looking at Robin, who could think of no appropriate response to this. ‘We had her late. Bad timing. I’d just got this bloody thing.’
Again, he indicated his wheelchair.
‘Oh, she’s not so bad,’ said Katya weakly, and possibly to stop further discussion of Flavia she said to Strike, ‘You said on the phone you wanted to know all about Josh and Edie’s friends, so I thought—’
She crossed to a small escritoire in the corner of the room, took a sheet of writing paper from the top and returned to Strike, holding it out.
‘—this might help. I’ve made a list of everybody I can remember who was close to Edie and Josh when Anomie’s game first appeared.’
‘That,’ said Strike, taking the handwritten sheet, ‘is extremely helpful. Thank you very much.’
‘I had to look up some of the surnames,’ said Katya, now perching on the edge of the sofa beside Robin, ‘but luckily they were on the credits of the early episodes, so I could go online and check. I know you’ll need to rule out as many people as you can. I’m quite, quite sure,’ she added emphatically, ‘none of Josh’s friends can be Anomie. They were all lovely people, but I understand you need to rule people out.’
The sun flooding through the large bay window showed every line on Katya’s exhausted face. She must, once, have been a good-looking woman, Robin thought, and perhaps could be again, with enough sleep. Her warm brown eyes and full-lipped mouth were attractive, but her skin was dry and slightly flaky, and the deep lines across her forehead and around her mouth suggested a state of perennial anxiety.
‘How’s Josh?’ Robin asked Katya.
‘Oh, thank you for – there’s no change, but the doctors say they wouldn’t expect any, so – so soon.’
Her voice rose to a near squeak. She fumbled with her sleeve, took out a wad of tissue and pressed it to her eyes.
Robin noticed how much Inigo’s hands were shaking as he tried to raise the mug to his lips. He seemed in imminent danger of spilling boiling tea onto himself.
‘Would you like me to—?’ she offered.
‘Oh – thank you,’ said Inigo stiffly, permitting her to take the mug and set it back on the table. ‘Very kind.’
Strike was scanning the notes Katya had given him. She’d not only made a list of names in small, neat, square writing, but given each person’s role in The Ink Black Heart and their exact relationship to Josh or Edie, and added the known contacts of each individual, such as ‘flatmates, don’t know their names’ and ‘girlfriend called (I think) Isobel’. Where she knew them, she’d also added addresses or locales.
‘We should draft you into the agency, Mrs Upcott,’ he said. ‘This is exactly what we were after.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad – and please, call me Katya,’ she said, flushing, and Robin found it a little pathetic to see her pleasure at being praised. ‘I really do want to help in any way I can. Josh is absolutely set on finding out who Anomie was. I think he feels, apart from anything else, he can –’ her voice rose to a squeak again ‘– he can make it up to Edie, somehow,’ she finished in a rush, before pressing her wad of tissue to her eyes again.
Strike folded up the list Katya had given him, put it into an inner pocket and said,
‘Well, that’s hugely helpful. Thank you. We’ve got a few questions, if you don’t mind? Would it be OK to take notes?’