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Robin began scribbling in her notebook.
‘—and I trusted her, and I was right to. What seemed wrong was right, you see? Papa J will confirm everything I’m saying,’ Becca continued, in exactly the same earnest and reasonable a tone as she’d used throughout the interview. ‘I’m pure spirit, which means I understand that what might seem devilish may be divine, and vice—’
‘See what I m—?’ began Murphy.
‘Shh,’ said Robin urgently, listening.
‘Cherie came, attained her purpose, and then she left us.’
‘Died, you mean?’ said the male officer.
‘There is no death, in the sense the material world means when it uses the word,’ said Becca, smiling. ‘No, she left the farm. I believe she’ll come back to us one day, and bring her little girls, too.’ Becca gave a small laugh. ‘I can tell this sounds strange to you, but that’s all right. Papa J always says—’
‘“I’d rather face an honest sceptic than a hundred who believe they know God, but are really in thrall to their own piety,”’ said Robin, repeating the words along with Becca.
‘I’m trying to explain,’ continued Becca, onscreen, ‘that my personal connection to the Drowned Prophet, and my relationship with the divine vessel, who suffered and was blameless, means I was very ready to hear Rowena’s explanation of what had happened. I would have extended understanding and compassion… but she didn’t stay to explain,’ said Becca, her smile fading. ‘She ran, and a man was waiting for her on the outskirts of the farm, in a car. He picked her up, and they drove away. So it’s hard not to think that she and this man were plotting something together, isn’t it? Were they hoping to abduct a child? Has she been trying to get pictures of naked children, to send to this man?’
‘The rest is just her crapping on about how fishy it was you ran for it,’ said Murphy, shutting down the video. ‘You all right?’
‘Yes,’ said Robin quietly, reaching for her wine. She drank half the glass before saying. ‘I suppose it’s just a shock.’
‘Of course it is, being accused—’
‘No, not that… I suppose I’ve just realised… she believes. She believes in the whole thing and – she genuinely she thinks she’s a good person.’
‘Well,’ said Murphy, ‘I s’pose that’s a cult for you.’
He closed the laptop.
‘Eat your curry.’
But Robin looked down at her notes.
‘I will. I just need to call Strike.’
100
Nine in the second place means:
Dragon appearing in the field.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Strike was walking slowly back up Charing Cross Road from Chinatown, where he’d eaten a solitary evening meal in a restaurant on Wardour Street. Looking down into the darkening street while eating his Singapore noodles, he’d watched a couple of people in blue tracksuits passing at a slow walk, deep in conversation, before turning into Rupert Court. He couldn’t make out their faces, but was ill-natured enough to hope they were fretting about the private detective who’d been undercover at their precious farm for four months.
A familiar faint depression settled over him as he made his way back to the office. The knowledge that Robin was currently at Murphy’s flat watching those interview tapes had formed a dispiriting backdrop to his meal. Vaping morosely as the traffic passed him, he acknowledged to himself that he’d thought Robin might call him after watching the interviews. Of course, Murphy was on hand to offer succour and support now…
His mobile rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, saw Robin’s number and answered.
‘Can you talk?’ she said.
‘Yeah, I’ve been doing it for years.’
‘Very funny. Are you busy?’
‘No. Go on.’
‘I’ve just watched the police interview with Becca Pirbright and she said some odd things about Cherie. Carrie, I mean.’
