AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Yeah,’ said Dev. ‘He’s definitely ex-army, is he?’
‘Yeah, ex-SIB, I checked his references,’ said Strike. ‘His story was he hadn’t worked for a couple of months before he came to us. OK, thanks. I’ll talk to him.’
Strike was on the point of slipping his mobile back into his pocket when it vibrated, and he saw another emoji-strewn text from Bijou.
Hey strong and silent international man of mystery Fancy a “get together” some time this week? Just bought a new bra and suspender belt and nobody to show them to Can send pics if you like
‘Christ,’ muttered Strike, returning his mobile to his pocket and taking out his vape pen instead. This would be the second text from Bijou he’d ignored. Two shags did not, in Strike’s view, necessitate a formal notice of termination, although he suspected most of the women he knew would have disagreed.
Across the street, a couple of teenaged girls emerged from the Chelsea Cloisters, wearing what looked like pyjamas with their trainers. Talking together, they passed out of sight, returning half an hour later with chocolate bars and bottles of water, and disappeared back inside the large brick and stone building.
Afternoon had shaded slowly into early evening before Strike’s target emerged from the building, unknowingly filmed by Strike. As hairy and unkempt as ever, Bigfoot walked off along the street, apparently texting someone. Evidently one of the advantages of owning your own software company was both the time and means to spend hours of a workday at a hotel. As Strike followed Bigfoot back towards Sloane Square, the detective’s mobile rang again.
‘Strike.’
‘Hi,’ said a female voice. ‘It’s Abigail Glover again. We spoke yesterday.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Strike, surprised, ‘thanks for getting back to me.’
‘I just wanna bit more info,’ said Abigail. ‘I’m not agreeing to anyfing.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Strike.
‘Who are you working for?’
‘Can’t disclose that, I’m afraid,’ said Strike. ‘Client confidentiality.’
‘You mentioned that guy Pirbright.’
‘Yes. As I said, I’ve been hired to investigate claims Kevin was making about the church.’
Bigfoot had slowed down and now withdrew into a doorway to read another text. Pretended to be equally absorbed in his own phone conversation, Strike also stopped walking, and feigned interest in passing traffic.
‘Pirbright was writing a book, wasn’ ’e?’ said Abigail.
‘How d’you know that?’
‘He told me, when he phoned me at work.’
Strike had a hunch he knew exactly what was bothering Abigail.
‘I haven’t been hired to help finish Pirbright’s book.’
When she didn’t respond, he said,
‘Our client’s trying to get a relative out of the UHC. Pirbright told the client about certain incidents he witnessed while in the church, and the client wants to find out how much truth, or otherwise, there was in Pirbright’s claims.’
‘Oh,’ said Abigail. ‘I see.’
Bigfoot had set off again. Strike followed, mobile still clamped to his ear.
‘I’m not looking to identify ex-church members, or expose their identities,’ he reassured Abigail. ‘It’ll be down to individual witnesses to decide whether they want to go on the record—’
‘I don’t,’ said Abigail quickly.
‘I understand,’ said Strike, ‘but I’d still like to talk to you.’
Up ahead, Bigfoot had stopped again, this time to talk to a slim, dark teenage girl who was heading in the direction of the hotel he’d just left. Strike hastily turned his mobile to camera and took a couple of pictures. When he’d placed the phone back to his ear, Abigail was talking.
