Chapter Twelve

It's well into the afternoon when Strike eventually returns to his apartment. He doesn't look like his mood has improved, and reeks of cigarettes and whisky. Robin puts the card she'd been reading to one side and greets him, "Hey, have you been walking all this time?"

He shakes his head, saying, "Went to see Shanker."

That explains the smell. "About your mum?"

"About him getting one of his mates to tail Lucy for a while.

They still have no reason to think that Strike's half-brother is dangerous, even if he's their stalker, but a heavy lump of dread settles in her stomach when she realises, "You think that's how Stephen knew where Ted is?"

Strike shrugs and says, "With his skills, he could have perhaps found out online, but Luce visits three times a week, so that'd be the quickest way."

Presuming one part of his plan, she says, "Strike, you have to tell her."

Looking genuinely perplexed, he asks, "Why?"

"Because she's an adult, so has a right to know if she's possibly in danger, and if you've hired someone to follow her."

He stares at her for a moment, his brow creased as he considers it, and then shakes off her suggestion, saying, "No. It'll just freak her out."

Taking a deep breath, Robin says, "She's your sister, so I won't interfere, but I strongly disagree with you on this. It's the same thing you've done to me in the past, deciding for me what I can and cannot handle."

That surprises him enough that his gaze snaps to hers, and he says, "Yeah, all right, I'll think about it."

She nods, saying, "Thank you. And, did you happen to smoke any of Shanker's cigarettes?"

She's surprised him again, and he finally smiles, saying, "Tempting, but no. We're having a baby, so it seemed too risky. I don't want to get back in the habit."

With his mood improving by the second, she dares, "And how much of his scotch did you drink?"

He grins and says, "Pretty sure it becomes my scotch once I drink it, and you're the witch, you tell me."

In fact, she has seen him drunk, and observes none of the signs. "Not much."

He nods and confirms, "For the same reason. So, it's safe to approach?"

"Did you think I'd be angry with you?" When he only shrugs, she reminds him, "Strike, if I were like any of the other women you've ever been with, I wouldn't be here."

He laughs and agrees, "True." And then he approaches, bending down to kiss her and say, "Thank you."

As he sits down opposite her, she asks, "For?"

"Understanding that I needed to be alone for a bit." When she opens her mouth to speak, he quickly adds, "I know that's covered by No Traps, No Fixing, but I'm still grateful."

Robin smiles and says, "Then you're welcome."

He nods towards the stacks of cards, asking, "What's this?"

"The cards that accompanied the flowers people sent you, about your mum. Hope it's okay that I looked at them? Pat said she mentioned it?"

"I don't mind, but I assumed she'd have tossed them by now."

"Well, some can go in the bin, I think." Touching the larger pile, she says, "These are all from journalists, including Culpepper."

Strike's reach is long enough that he's able to pick up the stack and lean over to drop it in the bin, making Robin laugh. He then looks at the remaining cards, asking, "Any good?"

Nervous about it, Robin still doesn't hesitate to pass one to him, saying, "My favourite."

From the slight unease in her eyes, Strike has an idea who sent this card. Sure enough, he recognises the writing even before his gaze jumps to the scrawled signature at the bottom. It's been an emotional day, but he can't stop his eyes from reading:

Cormoran,

I'm so sorry, more than my poor grasp of this language can convey. A light went out of the world when Leda died. And to think that someone snuffed out that light because she loved you kids so much

See, I knew I wouldn't have the words for it. Maybe there are none for such evil.

My grief is different than yours, I get that. But I understand you enough to know that it's no consolation we were right. What they say about "closure" is bullshit. This just feels like she's died all over again. I should have done more at the time. I'm not sure why I didn't, other than cowardice. I guess you get your courage from your mum. I've failed you in so many ways, but I'm still hopeful that you've also inherited her talent for mercy.

I'm rambling, because I know you're just gonna chuck this in the bin. But I'm vain enough to pretend you'll read these words first, so it feels a little like talking to you.

Anyway, I hope you liked the flowers. I know they were her favourite.

Yours,

Jonny

He can't pretend he isn't moved, not with Robin studying him, but he clears his throat to ensure that his voice will hold steady, and jokes, "Less a condolence card and more of an epistle."

Her loving smile suggests that he's not fooling her at all, and she says, "Just putting it out there; you could maybe call and thank him for the epistle."

He sighs, weary to his bones, and says, "I don't even know her favourite flower."

"Pat will have a record of what was sent." When he's lost in thought, his mind going back over everything that's happened today, Robin asks, "So, you're going to investigate her past?"

He smiles at her eagerness, and reminds her, "We're talking about events going back anywhere up to sixty years now. And, if Mum was deliberately hiding something, she had a bloody good reason. Whatever I might find, you can be pretty fucking certain that I won't like it."

She smiles her love for him, and says, "That's a yes."

He leans across the table to kiss her and then tenderly accuse, "Witch."

When Strike calls Wardle, the detective answers, "You're not cancelling on me?"

"No. We'll be there. Though I did have a question about tonight; the other guests wouldn't include Coco or Lorelei, would they?"

Wardle laughs and says, "I'm not that stupid or that cruel. April says Coco asked after you for a long time, and Lorelei was devasted when you broke up. I don't see the attraction, frankly. But you do seem to appeal to women. Was that it?"

"Uh, no. I...are you able to look into my mum's case, and check Rokeby's involvement, if any?"

"I don't need to look into it. I studied what we have before we interviewed Sir Randolph. Rokeby was never a suspect and is only mentioned because he volunteered a statement saying that Leda abhorred heroin, so someone else must have injected her, against her will. You didn't know?"

"No. I've never had much to do with him." Other than to tell him to stick his money up his arse. "Okay, thanks. I'll see you to_"

"Hey, woah, why are you asking?"

"Oh, just, something came up, made me wonder. Actually, Eric, what's her full name as listed in the file?"

"Leda Merryn Strike."

"Does it show her maiden name?"

"You don't know your mother's maiden name?"

"Well, I'd always thought it was Nancarrow, but...look, never mind."

"You're looking into your mother's past?"

They've become friends over the years, so Strike doesn't hesitate long to reveal, "Considering it."

"And you think she changed her name, I mean other than to get married?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

Wardle emits a slow whistle and then says, "It's possible. Even into the 90s record-keeping was a bit hit-and-miss. Could be a nasty can of worms though. Sure you want to open it?"

"The trouble with that question is that I cannot answer it without more information."

"I guess so. All right, I can send you a copy of what we've got on Monday."

Pleasantly surprised, Strike asks, "What happened to no notes, no photos, and being dragged over the coals?"

"You can't have the new stuff, but I can get you a copy of historic files. Most of the evidence will have been disposed of by now, but the details are still there. So long as you keep them under wraps, neither of us will get into trouble. And I don't imagine you'd reveal the particulars of your mum's case even under torture."

Despite the grim subject, Strike laughs, saying, "Got that right. Well, thanks. That would be very helpful. I owe you again, big time."

"Actually, we're even; John says we're looking like closing an old murder case this week, thanks to you."

Surprised that Cakebread was willing to share the limelight even with his cousin, he wonders again if he misjudged the guy. "That was generous of him, telling you."

Wardle chuckles and says, "Not really. Stupid fucker didn't think I'd find out when he started nosing around into Bobby Tingwell."

Strike knows the name, an infamous crime boss who vanished several years ago. "Damn, if I'd known that's who I was giving him, I would have asked for more in return."

"I presume Mr. MacDonald's hands are squeaky clean on this matter?"

Impressed, but not very surprised, that Wardle knows about Shanker and his connection to Strike, he lies, "Who's Mr. MacDonald when he's at home?"

"Yeah, okay. See you tonight."

"Tonight."