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‘Sorry, thought you were Midge,’ said Strike. The subcontractor had just handed him the letter, which she’d retrieved overnight.
‘She had to go, she’s on the Franks. What’s wrong with Robin?’
‘Exhaustion and underfeeding, probably. Cheers,’ he added, picking up his tea.
‘Ryan just called,’ said Pat.
‘Who? Oh, Murphy?’
‘He wanted to know whether he’s had a message from Robin.’
‘Yeah, he has,’ said Strike, handing the folded paper over. He’d resisted reading it, but had been glad to see through the back of the paper that it looked as though it only comprised two or three lines. ‘Don’t tell him I said I’m worried about Robin,’ Strike added.
‘Why would I?’ said Pat, scowling. ‘And you’ve had some voicemail messages. One at nine o’clock last night, from a man called Lucas Messenger. He says he’s Jacob’s brother.’
‘Shit,’ said Strike, who was now ignoring all office phone calls that diverted to his mobile in the evening, on the assumption they were from Charlotte. ‘OK, I’ll call him back.’
‘And three more from the same woman,’ said Pat, her expression austere, ‘all early hours of the morning. She didn’t give her name, but—’
‘Delete them,’ said Strike, reaching for his phone.
‘I think you should listen to them.’
‘Why?’
‘She gets threatening.’
They looked at each other for a few seconds. Strike broke eye contact first.
‘I’ll call Messenger, then I’ll listen to them.’
When Pat had closed the door to the outer office, Strike called Lucas Messenger. After a few rings, a male voice said,
‘Yeah?’
‘Cormoran Strike here. You left a message for me yesterday evening.’
‘Oh—’ A slight distortion on the line told Strike he’d been switched to speakerphone. ‘You’re the detective, yeah? What’s Jacob done? Driven froo annuver window?’
Strike heard a few background sniggers and surmised that Lucas was sharing the conversation with workmates.
‘I’m trying to find out where he is.’
‘Why d’you wanna know? What’s he done?’
‘Did your brother join the Universal Humanitarian Church?’
The laughter on the other end of the line was louder this time.
‘He did, yeah. Twat.’
‘And where is he now?’
‘Germany, I fink. We’re not in touch. He’s me half-brother. We don’t get on.’
‘When did he go to Germany, do you know?’
‘Dunno, some time last year?’
