Chapter Twenty-five

That evening, Murphy calls Strike, asking, "Rob with you?"

Hoping that the detective isn't about to ask him to keep secrets from his fiancée, he cautiously says, "Yes."

As if reading his mind, Murphy chuckles and says, "So you can both hear what I have to say."

Motioning for Robin to join him, Strike puts his phone on speaker and lays it on the dining table, sitting down as he says, "Go."

Robin is sitting opposite him as Murphy says, "You were right, Rob, looks like the devices were planted only recently. Max remembers admitting a man last Monday, who claimed to be from the fire brigade, offering a free inspection of smoke alarms, including replacing batteries. He watched the guy for a while, but when he appeared to be doing exactly as promised, left him to it. But Max is adamant that the guy was never alone in your bedroom, so he must have doubled back to place the bug later. He probably would have added a camera to your detector, like he did in the living room, but Max at least prevented that, though he's feeling pretty foolish about the whole thing."

The words "as he should" hang heavy in the silence that follows.

Seeing that Robin is lost in thought, Strike asks, "Description?"

Murphy huffs a laugh, and reveals, "Once we got past 'cute' Max was quite helpful. He's still with our forensic artist. The suspect wore a London Fire Brigade cap, low enough to conceal eye colour, but we're apparently looking for..." The sound of pages turning is clearly audible, before he continues, "A young Damon Salvatore or an adult Harry Potter. The guy had a beard, confirming that he's not a firefighter, but does that description ring a bell?"

Robin is shaking her head, and Strike only knows one of those names, so he says, "No bells. Can you send us a picture when it's done?"

"Will do." After a few seconds of silence, Murphy asks, "Okay, Rob?"

She startles a little, and assures him, "I'm fine. Is Max okay?"

"Oh, yes. Once he was satisfied that you're safe, he seemed to be enjoying himself, muttering something about this being good 'material'. He's an actor, right?"

Robin nods, saying, "Yeah. He and Richard aren't in danger there?"

"I seriously doubt it. We found no other devices, and none in his room. And I think he heard me when I cautioned against giving strangers unsupervised access to any part of his home."

Robin laughs a little, saying, "Right. Okay, thanks."

Strike is worried when he sees the tell-tale signs that Robin is struggling to cope. When he moves a hand over his phone and holds it there, she nods her assent, and he picks it up, taking it off speaker, and moves into the bedroom while telling Murphy, "Rob just needs a minute."

"She okay?"

Shutting the door, trusting Robin to ask for his help is she needs it, he snaps, "Some fucker was spying on her for almost a week, even in her fucking bed! Of course she's not okay." Immediately regretting his tone, with a man who probably still loves Robin, he adds, "Nah, she's good. Like I said, just needs a mo."

Apparently immune to a grumpy Cormoran Strike, Murphy merely asks, "And are you okay?"

"I will be when we catch him. Any ideas?"

"None. But, believe me, we're looking. Forensics will take a while. No evidence of a connection yet, but I'm acting under the assumption that this is linked to the gorilla mask. Rob dropped the complaint?"

Wondering how much Robin has told her ex, Strike says, "Yeah, it's, uh...maybe best get Rob's side of that, but she's certain the package is separate from the other incidents."

There's that familiar sound of something flicking through the pages of a notepad, and Strike has realised his error as Murphy says, "Incidents? Plural?"

Fuck. Taking a deep breath, Strike explains, "Rob now knows, but we went to Cornwall on...the 6th, and someone left another mask on the doorstep that night. At the time, I thought it was Carver or one of his cronies, so tossed it and didn't tell Rob."

A heavy silence precedes Murphy asking, laughter in his voice, "And how did she take it, when she found out?"

"Didn't talk to me for two days, and you needn't sound so happy about it."

Murphy chuckles, and says, "Sorry, not sorry. I presume it's in landfill by now?"

Only then does Strike realise that he never got around to calling Dave Polworth and cautioning him not to mention it to Robin. "Uh, actually, I might know where it is. But it's been stepped on and, I suspect, passed through a few hands."

"Still, if it's the same type of mask as was delivered to her apartment, that tells us_"

Strike hadn't considered that, but he saw both masks, and now recalls every detail. "It's not."

"Positive?"

"Positive. But I'll find out if the other is still in Cornwall, so you can see for yourself." Hearing sounds coming from the kitchen, Strike asks, "Anything else?"

"Not at this stage, other than it's definitely not Carver, Morris or Patterson, who's on bail awaiting sentencing, and not quite stupid enough to risk pulling this stunt under those conditions. Could be one of his old crew, but not on his say-so. Reminds me, got a warrant, so I might have something for you on that tracker soon. And the other two are busy drinking themselves into an early grave. I quietly checked them out after you ambushed me at my car."

Not a bit surprised that the detective pursued those leads, Strike says, "I knew you couldn't let it go."

"Yeah, well, I suspect you're the same, and I know Rob is."

Strike understands what the man is asking, so he vows, "I'll keep an eye on her. She listens to me."

His voice weighed down by regret, Murphy says, "Yes, she always did. I'll keep you posted."

He's gone before Strike can think of a reply.

When he slips the phone into his pocket and silently opens the door, it's to find that the noises were Robin preparing dinner, even though it's a little early. A dislike for being idle is another thing they have in common. There's not really room for two cooks in his kitchenette, but he stands beside her and wordlessly provides what assistance he can without knowing what she's planning. After a while, she asks, "Anything I need to know?"

Replaying the conversation in only seconds, he soon says, "Not really. Murph is satisfied it's not Patterson, Morris or Carver. Oh, you asked him to look at the tracker in an official capacity?"

She finally looks at him, to say, "I forgot, I'm sorry. He suggested it was a good idea, in case it's connected to the...what they found at my place. I hope that's okay? It was your car."

He smiles, assuring her, "That's fine. We're a team." They're again quiet as they work together, and then he says, "You know, even if Rose decides that she wants us to finish the job in person, we don't both need to go to Australia."

"Yeah, I know."

"But the business is doing quite well, and this case could prove to be our biggest yet, financially. And today confirmed that the agency can practically run itself, at least for short periods."

Robin puts down the knife, and looks at him to ask, "Are you suggesting we both go, but one of us is on holiday?"

He laughs at her wide-eyed shock, and suggests, "Holiday-ish, because I seriously doubt either of us could let the other have all the glory."

She laughs, and agrees, "True." Then returning her attention to the partly diced carrot, she says, "It feels a bit like running away."

"You assumed I'd be the one going to Australia alone?"

Robin shrugs, saying, "Well, Rose likes you...perhaps a little too much."

Glad that he hadn't told Robin how much Rose had flirted when he saw her alone, he points out, "Rob, she's gotta be in her fifties."

"Which is about the same age gap as between us."

He manages to regularly forget that fact, probably because being with Robin makes him feel young again. "You're not seriously jealous?"

"No, but..." Turning to look at him, she pleads, "Can we make a pact not to flirt back?"

"Rob, I wasn't. You saw."

"No, I know you didn't encourage her, but we've both done that in the past for work. I'd just rather not now."

"Well, good, because I'd also rather not now."

She nods, and echoes, "Well, good." And then laughs, admitting, "I might be a teensy bit emotionally fragile today."

"I'd genuinely be worried if you weren't. But what about Australia?"

She nods, saying, "Yeah, I'd like that. I wasn't looking forward to staying behind again." Grinning and sneaking a glance at him, she continues, "Just don't ask if it was the thought of missing you or missing out on solving another case."

He laughs, and agrees, "Yeah, I'm not sure my ego would like your answer."

They're again silent cooking partners, until Robin asks, "So, what are we having?"

Strike splutters a laugh, and asks, "You don't know? You'd already started when I finished with Murph."

Her cheeks colouring slightly, Robin shrugs and reveals, "I just needed something to do, because sitting around while you were on the phone with my ex was making me crazy." She glances at the metal bowl, full of assorted chopped vegetables, and suggests, "Look, if we're heading for a big pay cheque, why don't we order in tonight and leave this particular mystery for tomorrow? I fancy a fattening curry and a beer."

Strike cannot think of anything he'd rather do...well, one thing. And they'll probably manage that later if they don't eat too much. Carefree, he smiles and reminds her, "I told you, I'm always a go for food and sex."

Already tidying up, Robin's smile is just visible when she teases, "Bit cheeky to assume I'll want sex."

Certain that she will, Strike merely shrugs and vows, "If you don't, then food and beer will do."

Dave Polworth answers his call with, "Diddy! What's up?"

"Did you keep the mask?"

"Look, I'm sorry about that; Scrapper an' me just thought it was funny, but Jen gave me a right boll_"

Rolling his eyes, Strike more forcefully repeats, "Did you keep the mask?"

"I never had it. Scrapper found it. What's going on?"

"Got his number?"

"Corm, what's going on?"

Noting the unusual use of even the diminutive form of his given name, Strike knows that his friend is very concerned. With a sigh, he reveals, "If you ever touched the mask, expect a visit from the cops. They'll want fingerprints, cheek swab and probably a hair from your head. And I'd consider it a favour if you don't argue."

A few seconds of heavy silence precede, "What the fuck is going on?"

Unwilling to discuss Robin's past without first checking with her, he eventually settles for, "Just, do this for me, okay? I'll owe you one."

After another few seconds, Dave asks, "Is this something to do with Rob? Is she okay?"

He should have known that his childhood friend would work out that much. "She's fine, just...don't ever mention the mask, okay? And tell Scrapper the same. I presume he still does everything you tell him to?"

"He's a mate, if that's what you mean. Someone hurt your Rob? I really like her, Diddy. I think she's good for you. Jen thinks so too."

"Yeah, someone hurt her, a long time ago. But that's her business."

"Yeah, awright, I'll text you Scrapper's number. I never even saw it, but I'm sure he's still got the mask; you know what a magpie he is."

Only then does Strike remember that the nickname came not from a fondness for fighting, but a lifelong love of collecting "treasures" from the local tip. And he laughs, saying, "Yeah, pity the poor bastard who is tasked with finding anything at his place. Thanks, Chum."

"Any time, Diddy. If not for you, for your Rob."

Making a decision, Strike says, "Look, I'm thinking of doing something special for my birthday this year. Think you can make sure there's room at the Victory for it on the Saturday after?"

"What, like a party?"

Smiling at the profound shock in his friend's voice, Strike confirms, "A lot like that, yeah." Quickly calculating, he says, "Maybe a dozen interlopers, plus whatever locals want to show up and buy me a pint."

Laughter in his voice, Dave says, "No free drinks? I dunno how many locals will turn up under those conditions."

Strike laughs, confirming, "No free drinks. Just some sitting down room, and some cooked snacks. Tell Merv I'll settle with him on the night."

"Yeah, I can do that for you, Diddy. She the one, then, your Rob?"

"Between you and me, Chum, she might be."

"Well, ain't that a helluva thing? Good for you, Diddy."

"Thanks. Love to Jen and the girls."

"Love to Rob. I'll take care of the other thing for her."

Decades of friendship flash through his mind in an instant, good times and bad, and Strike is moved to say, "That first day, when we met, why did you take me under your wing? You were king of the castle at that school; you didn't need to befriend the new kid."

His tone suggesting that the answer is obvious, Dave says, "Because you looked like you could do with a friend, Diddy. Was I wrong?"

"No, you were right. Thanks, Chum, for everything."

"Any time. See you on the 26th."

"Yeah, see you then. And I'll buy you a pint."

"On your birthday? Fuck off."

For my wedding. "Fine, my shout next time."