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‘It’s not your bloody place to tell me—’
‘You’ve just thrown boiling coffee all over my partner!’
‘What?’
‘I’m fine,’ lied Robin.
Having bathed the smarting area with cold kitchen roll, she put the wad into the bin and returned to the table, her wet shirt clinging to her. Taking her jacket off the back of her chair, she pulled it back on, silently reflecting that she’d now been injured by two Edensor sons; perhaps Ed would make it a hat trick before she left the house, and smash her round the head with his walking stick.
‘I’m sorry,’ said James, taken aback. ‘I genuinely – I didn’t mean to do that…’
‘Will didn’t mean to do what he’s done, either,’ said Robin, feeling that if she had to get scalded, the least she was owed was to be able to capitalise on it. ‘He did a really stupid, careless thing, and he knows it, but he never meant to hurt anyone.’
‘I want this girl Lin found,’ said Sir Colin in a low voice, before James could respond. ‘I don’t want to hear another word about it, James. I want her found. And after that…’
He looked at Strike.
‘I’m prepared to fund another three months of investigation into Daiyu Wace’s death. If you can prove it was suspicious, that she’s not the deity they’ve turned her into, that might help Will – but if you haven’t found out anything after three months, we’ll drop it. In the meantime, please thank your office manager for looking after Will, and… we’ll keep our eyes open for that Vauxhall Corsa.’
106
It is true that there are still dividing walls on which we stand confronting one another. But the difficulties are too great. We get into straits, and this brings us to our senses. We cannot fight, and therein lies our good fortune.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
‘Well, that’s that,’ said Robin. ‘No Corsa.’
She’d been checking her rear-view mirror far more often than usual all the way back to London, and was certain they hadn’t been followed.
‘Maybe you should ring the Edensors and say it was a false alarm?’ she suggested.
‘Whoever was in that Corsa might’ve realised we’d seen them,’ Strike replied. ‘I still think the Edensors need to keep their eyes peeled… You can charge the dry-cleaning on that shirt to the agency,’ he added. He hadn’t liked to mention it, but the BMW now smelled strongly of coffee.
‘No dry-cleaner on earth’s going to get this out,’ said Robin, ‘and the accountant wouldn’t let me charge it, anyway.’
‘Then charge it to the busi—’
‘It’s old, and it was cheap when it was new. I don’t care.’
‘I do,’ said Strike. ‘Careless arsehole.’
Robin might have reminded Strike he’d once almost broken her nose when she’d tried to stop him punching a suspect, but decided against.
They parted at the garage where Strike kept his BMW. As Robin hadn’t said anything more about what she was up to that evening, Strike was confirmed in his view that it had something to do with Murphy, and set off back to the office in an irritable mood he chose to attribute to James Edensor’s barely veiled accusation that the agency was financially exploiting his father. Robin, meanwhile, headed straight to Oxford Street, where she bought a cheap new shirt, changed in a department store bathroom, then sprayed herself liberally with a perfume tester to get rid of the coffee smell, because she had no time to go home and change before she met Prudence.
She’d called the therapist the previous evening, and Prudence, who had a dental appointment, had suggested they meet in an Italian restaurant close by the surgery. Robin found herself hyper-alert as she travelled to Kensington High Street by Tube. She’d been followed before, doing this job, and Strike’s refusal to be reassured by the Corsa’s non-appearance on their return journey to London had put her slightly on edge. At one point, she thought a large man with heavy eyebrows might be following her, but on moving aside to let him pass, he merely strode past her, muttering under his breath.
On arriving at Il Portico, Robin was pleased to find it smaller and cosier than she’d imagined, given its upmarket location; her workday clothes were entirely appropriate, even if Prudence, who was already seated, looked far more elegant in her dark blue dress.
‘I’m still numb,’ Prudence said, pointing at her left cheek as she stood to kiss Robin on both cheeks. ‘I’m a bit scared of drinking, in case it all dribbles out… you’ve lost a lot of weight, Robin,’ she added, as she sat back down.
‘Yes, well, they don’t feed you a lot in the UHC,’ said Robin, taking the opposite seat. ‘Did you have to have anything awful done at the dentist?’
‘It was supposed to be replacing an old filling, but then he found another one that needed doing,’ said Prudence, fingering the side of her face. ‘Have you ever been here before?’
‘Never.’
‘Best pasta in London,’ said Prudence, passing Robin the menu. ‘What d’you want to drink?’
