Chapter Twenty

Having finished his explanation, Strike asks Shanker, "Got all that?"

Shanker nods, eyes on the detailed contract in his hand, and summarises, "No pilferin' or felonies while I'm on the clock, and nothin' stoopid that'll 'urt the agency when I'm not."

Glad that his faith in Shanker's intelligence appears vindicated, Strike laughs, saying, "Fuck me, Shanker, it cost me two hundred quid for my lawyer to write this up, and you say the same thing in one sentence."

Shanker smiles at this praise, and points out, "Then you'd be a stoopid fucker, wouldn'cha? I'da done it fer a ton."

Strike laughs and agrees, "Yeah." But then sobers to ask, "And you're okay with this?"

Shanker shrugs and says, "You're the boss."

Still unsure about this entire enterprise, despite believing it necessary for Shanker's continued existence on this planet, he asks, "Are you sure you're up for it? It's barely a week since you were stabbed."

"Tailin' some civilian 'roun Midtown?" With a pained expression, Shanker insists, "Bunsen, I could do that wiv the knife still in me."

He probably could at that. Offering his pen, Strike says, "Then we have a deal."

Shanker grins, signs the contract, then placing pen and paper on Pat's desk to shake Strike's hand, and say, "Fanks fer this. I'll do ya prahd."

Strike means every word when he says, "I've no doubt."

With a touch of a finger to cap, Shanker salutes a vigilant Pat, and then he nods at Strike before slouching off.

Strike is still staring after him when the front door slams downstairs. He's jolted out of his concerns by Pat's, "Not a standard contract."

Strike smiles, saying, "Not a standard contractor. The contract was Rob's idea, because I was worried about one day returning to find these offices stripped to the walls." Finally looking at Pat, he continues, "She reminded me that Shanker is a man of honour, in his own way, and would keep his word if I asked for it. She somehow knew he wouldn't be offended, because it's a business deal." Gesturing to the contract, he concludes, "Would you please file that with..." His gaze darts to the door, as he utters, "Fuck."

"Forget somethin'?"

"No, nothing. It doesn't matter. Would you please file that with the others?"

Pat has moved to comply when she comments, "He won't last."

With a heavy sigh, Strike concedes, "Probably not. But I have to try; I owe him."

Only polite enquiry in her tone, Pat asks, "He serve with you?"

Understanding her error, Strike looks at her to explain, "In this context, 'civilian' means neither crim nor cop. And I owe him forever because he promised and failed to protect someone close to me."

Confirming that she's done some research of her own, Pat guesses, "Your mum?"

Not even sure why he's discussing this with Pat, when she probably doesn't really care one way or the other—perhaps because she doesn't care—he explains, "Shanker was devastated. I honestly worried about him for a while, because he loved her, and blamed himself for her death."

Pat nods her understanding, saying, "Compassion. That's a heavy debt."

Strike breathes a sad laugh, agreeing, "Yeah." Summoning energy for the task ahead, he says, "Well, I'll be in my office if you...should anyone need me. And don't worry about Shanker. Having met you only once, he'd risk his life to protect you from harm, I promise."

Pat rolls her eyes, and says, "Well, I could see that. He's like you."

No one, ever, has said that about the two men, polar opposites in everything except their love for Leda Strike. "How...?"

"He likes women...you know, he respects us."

Pleased that he gives that impression, because it's true, Strike still teases, "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say I respect you."

Already back in her chair, typing away with the ever-present vape pen secure between her lips, Pat merely glares at his retreating form.

Strike is dining at Robin's place tonight, and is very much looking forward to it, having not seen her since last night. She's at the stove when he arrives, and flashes him a smile before returning her attention to their meal, asking, "How did Shanker take it?"

"Just like you said, he understood exactly what I wanted, and didn't seem at all offended that I put my mistrust in writing, merely signed the contract and thanked me for the opportunity." He waits for Robin's satisfied smile before concluding, "And then he swiped my pen on the way out."

Robin stares at him, clamps a hand over her mouth for a moment, and then laughs, saying, "Oh, dear. That doesn't bode well."

Strike shrugs, saying, "I'm sure it was just a reflex. He might even return it, considering that he's currently our most conscientious employee."

Robin doesn't look around to say, "Well, I'm sorry about your pen, but I'm glad it worked."

"Me too; that was my favourite pen." Strike sits down at the breakfast bar to watch her cook, adding, "Pat likes him."

"Because Pat is an excellent judge of character." When he makes no reply, Robin asks, "You okay?"

"Hmm?" On seeing that Robin is looking at him, concern in her eyes, he shakes his head, saying, "Fine. Just thinking."

Robin smiles, and then switches off the hobs to lean on the counter across from Strike, asking, "About?"

He's hungry, but also for answers, so hesitates only a moment before asking, "Did you ever play Tetris?" When Robin only laughs, he says, "What?"

"I've put dinner on hold to discuss Tetris?"

"No, you put dinner on hold because you sense that I have a mystery." Robin concedes the point with a nod, and he continues, "Since meeting you, it's as if all the baggage from my past is part of a perfect game of Tetris, with pieces falling into place and disappearing as I solve them." When this adds confused furrows to Robin's brow, he attempts, "Like with regard to my mother; meeting you...loving you, helped me let go of any lingering resentment I felt about how woefully ill-equipped she was for the task of raising children."

Robin's smile is shy, and she asks, "I do that for you?"

"That and much more, but don't distract me with your doe eyes, or you won't get back to the cooking." When Robin silently extends her arms and clasps her hands together, indicating that she'll behave, he smiles and continues, "Thank you. Something has been ticking over in the back of my brain since I told you that Mum's gift was to see the good in people."

Proving exactly why he cannot imagine sharing his life with any other woman, an awestruck Robin gasps, "Whittaker." When Strike rolls his hand, asking for more, she relaxes her arms, and suggests, "You no longer believe that he killed her, because Leda would never have been with him unless there was some good in him."

He still doesn't want to accept it, and grimaces before saying, "Need a fucking microscope to find it, but yeah, maybe. He was cleared of any involvement, after all. I'm now wondering if my hatred for him kept me from seriously considering any other suspects, and I thus let her killer get away with it."

With a kind smile, Robin reminds him, "And you were barely an adult."

"I was adult enough to know she'd didn't fucking kill herself. That Tetris block will never fall."

Robin looks down at the surface between them for a few seconds, and then meets his gaze to say, "You seriously want to dive back in? Doesn't sound like much fun for you." After a deep breath, she adds, "And, Strike, no one can win at Tetris." Forced to admit that she's correct, Strike hasn't yet spoken when she concludes, "Plus, we already have a lot of blocks in the air."

She's not wrong: enough cases to stretch everyone, moving in together in a matter of weeks, and potentially a baby in their near future. He sits back, conceding, "Right? It's insane. And the trail is well and truly cold."

Robin studies him for a harrowing few seconds, and then simply says, "But it's your mother we're talking about here." When she leans towards him, he meets her in the middle for a kiss that makes him want to skip dinner. And then she says, "If you want to pursue it, and you find a way to bend time to your will, let me know. I'll support you however you want. For now, food, and then later, sex...assuming that works for you?"

He's grinning like an idiot when he notices that she's waiting for an answer. "Oh, yeah, absolutely. I'll need your help with it, and I'm always a go for food and sex." With a smile and satisfied nod, Robin returns to preparing dinner. Watching her, loving her, Strike makes a decision, but still opens his mouth to speak three times before the words come out. "Marry me." And then has to fight the urge to flee.

Thankfully, Robin merely laughs a little, understandably assuming he's joking. He realises his mistake—not laughing along with her—when Robin turns in slow motion to gape at him, her eyes widening on seeing his fearful expression, and she asks, "Not really?"

Not an inspiring response, but Strike has seen something in her eyes that gives him hope, so he vows, "Really."

Robin gasps a laugh, and says, "You're insane. Only days ago you freaked out at the very idea of even living with me. And we've just established that we have no spare time. How do you intend to plan a_"

She hasn't said no, so Strike is feeling more confident when he interrupts, "I don't want a wedding, and I don't want to be engaged. I want to be married, to you. Let's just get it done...after the required grace period, of course, which will put us close to my birthday."

Shaking her head, Robin points out, "If we do this without at least Ilsa present, she'll quite literally kill you. If not, Mum will."

This is sounding like a definite maybe, so Strike finally relaxes, and suggests, "How about this: Masham, with the two witnesses being Linda and Michael. As for the rest of them, we can put it on FaceTime."

Robin gives it some thought, and eventually says, "I got married at Masham last time. Let's just do it here, and then invite everyone to celebrate with us in St. Mawes. We could linger at the house a few days afterwards, lock the door and switch off our phones."

He likes this plan. He likes it a lot. "But then who would be the witnesses?"

Robin shrugs, saying, "They don't need to be related. We'll just grab someone at the registry office."

Strike smiles, saying, "And you call me insane. Are you sure that'd be okay with you? I know you already had the proper wedding, but_"

"Exactly. Don't want to go repeating those mistakes." And then Robin grins, saying, "Can't wait to see the look on Ilsa's face when I tell her that you proposed not even three weeks into our relationship."

With a shrug, Strike confesses, "Actually, I sort of proposed Thursday night, but you had already fallen asleep."

Robin laughs, and then shakes her head, saying, "I thought that I'd dreamt that." And then his face in framed in her loving hands, and she declares "We're insane," before kissing him. With Robin's lips and tongue driving all thought from his head, he doesn't argue, even though he suspects that marrying his best friend will prove to be the sanest decision he's ever made.