Chapter Fourteen

He's had second, third and fourth thoughts about placing this phone call, but Strike finally gets brave. The call connects and he is greeted by silence, and then a timorous, "Cormoran?"

"Yeah." He can hear voices in the background, so asks, "Is now a good time?"

The voices fade to nothing as Rokeby says, "Of course. Any time. I thought maybe you blocked me after I royally fucked up last time."

Strike snorts a laugh, and says, "I did. But I wanted to thank you for the tulips, and the card."

"Uh, sure, you're welcome. And I really am sorry. That must have been tough for you."

"No tougher than when she died. I liked what you wrote."

Rokeby laughs and says, "I honestly can't remember exactly. I was so nervous. But I meant every word. I remember that."

"You said that a light went out of the world when Mum died."

"Oh, yeah. Well, you know better than anyone; she was the most alive person I ever met. It made her kind of hopeless at most things, but your mum genuinely believed that everyone could get along. She was too trusting for her own good, and yours probably. But...'rose coloured glasses' doesn't quite seem enough. Ah, you probably know what I mean anyway."

"I know. Mum just chose to see good. Look, can I ask you a favour?" It's going well enough that he firmly adds, "Do not offer me money."

Rokeby laughs, and says, "Yeah, sorry about that. I hope you know I meant well, but Prue explained how that would have seemed to you. And I'd be honoured to do a favour for you."

"I'm thinking of looking into Mum's past...well, am looking into it. Do you remember anything that might help me?"

"Fuck, that's a tall ask. I can barely remember my past nowadays, especially my wilder years. Can I 'ave a think about it and get back to you? What sort of stuff are you looking for?"

"Anything that can't easily be discovered online. I only learned this week what her middle name is, and I'm beginning to doubt that she was born 'Leda'."

"She wasn't. I know that much. Fuck, my memory...it was something like Adeline or maybe Emily."

"Hang on a sec." Strike removes the phone from his ear long enough to search what "Amy" is short for, and then asks his father, "Amelia?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"Did she say why or how she changed it?"

"Uh...we were high, of course, so it's a bit hazy. I asked what sort of name 'Leda' is for a Cornish lass, and she...oh, fuck, Cormoran, she said she earned the name. I just realised what that could mean. You don' think...?"

"That she was raped before she left Cornwall? I do now. I figured something bad happened."

"Fuck, I'm sorry, son."

"Not your fault."

"No, but...you sure about looking into this?"

Until this moment, he didn't know why investigating Leda felt like a need, and he explains, "I wasn't there when she was murdered, but I can do this for her. If the fucker is still alive, I'll find him."

"I'm not gonna help you kill someone. Don't ask that of_"

"Not how I operate, I promise."

"Okay, good. Uh, look, I gotta go. If I think of anything else, should I email you or something?"

"You can call me. I won't always be able to get back right away, but I won't block you again. Oh, and thanks for making a statement to the police after Mum died. I never knew about that."

"I should've done more."

"I'm not blaming you for anything about how that went down, okay? Considering that being with her fucked your first marriage and your bank account, I think it was brave to do that much."

"Thank you, Cormoran. Is it okay using your name?"

Rokeby doesn't yet feel like a father, but this is easily the best conversation they've ever had, so Strike says, "Anything you want is fine. But don't hold out hopes that I'll call you 'Dad' anytime soon."

With a light laugh, Rokeby says, "Fair enough. And I really gotta go. Like I said, call anytime, okay?"

"All right. Thanks. Talk soon."

Strike had reclined on his bed for the call, and is still staring at the ceiling when Robin enters the room, asking, "How did it go?"

"Good. Really good, considering the last time we spoke."

Robin smiles, saying, "When you told him to go fuck himself, loud enough to be heard by colleagues in the next room? I certainly hope so."

Strike laughs and concedes, "Yeah." He motions for her to join him on the bed, and she complies with an easy smile, until she's snuggled against his chest. And then he says, "I told you that Lucy and I think something bad happened to Mum in her past, and that Ted knows about it?"

"Yeah. Rokeby confirmed it?"

For the first time, it feels wrong to call his father only by his surname, and Strike says, "Jonny vaguely recalls a time when they were both high and he asked about the name. Apparently...oh, do know the Greek myth about Leda and Zeus?"

"That Zeus changed himself into a swan and..." Robin lifts her head to look at him and say, "Strike, you don't think...?"

"Yeah, I do. The mythical Leda was raped, and Mum told Jonny that she earned the name."

Robin's stricken expression holds while she asks, "Not Ted?"

He strokes her back and arm in comfort, assuring her, "No. Remember that Lucy said he felt bad about leaving her to deal with something. I'm wondering if maybe he suspected she was in danger and left her behind anyway. It would have been around the time he enlisted."

Robin settles against him to ask, "Do you know anything about their parents?"

"No. Nothing. Better leave it off my CV that it didn't even occur for a moment to wonder why my mum and her brother never spoke of their parents. I knew their old man was a fisherman, and Joan inferred one time that he was a mean drunk, but that's it."

"Well, you have a place to start looking."

"Yeah, I guess." And then he realises, "Fuck, I forgot to ask him to keep this to himself."

Robin caresses his chest, saying, "Darling, your dad has been dealing with fame since before you were born. I'm sure he won't blab."

"Yeah, okay."

Robin yawns, saying, "You're too comfy. It was nice to go out last night, but it meant I'm behind on sleep. And I'm not really in the mood for sex."

He kisses her forehead and says, "Rest assured, discussing rape is a mood killer for me too. You okay? I know it's worse for you."

She leaves his arms, saying, "I'm okay. It's getting easier to talk about it. Wake me in time for our shift?"

He smiles, that she's obviously guessed he's going to get some work done. "I will. Sweet dreams."

When she smiles and touches her lips, he kisses her until they're both rethinking the sex issue. And then she ends it, vowing, "Now I'll have sweet dreams."

Given that they have an appointment tomorrow at Scotland Yard, Strike has no idea why Wardle is calling, but is unconcerned when he answers, "What's up?"

"Nothing good. I presume it wasn't you that had pictures taken of us outside the restaurant last night?"

Having resolved not to even vape inside near Robin while she's pregnant, Strike had stepped outside with Wardle, who has also swapped to vaping since getting back together with April. "What? No, of course not."

"Well, someone did. There's half a page in the Mail implying that there's something dodgy about our friendship, that we're helping each other set people up, and that's why we have such a high success rate since meeting on the Landry case."

Culpepper. Even as he has that thought, he realises, "This was Whitehall's doing. I barely have anything to do with Culpepper nowadays, so he'd have no reason to follow me...unless they were there for you?"

"Doubt it. I'm not interesting enough. And I thought the same thing, so one good thing is that my super has agreed to put a plainclothes on you for a while, see is we can catch the slippery little fucker in the act."

"If it is him, how's he managing all this while working as a paramedic?"

"He's suspended until the bugging case is resolved; probably fucking volunteered the info to his boss so he could have some time off. It's not like he needs the money, and he'll soon inherit more. Sir Randolph had a stroke, and is in a bad way."

Despite believing that the man committed a great wrong in covering up for his wife, Strike means it when he says, "I'm sorry to hear that. Not a nice way to go."

"No. And it happened right after his great-grandson paid him a visit."

Sudden nausea accompanies a harsh, "Fuck."

"Yeah. The officer in the room swears there was no contact, that they only talked, but she said the old man was...the word she used was 'shrunken', as if Whitehall had sucked the life out of him."

Remembering Whitehall's claim that he hasn't lied since adolescence, Strike suggests, "And he probably did it by telling him a few home truths. Old Man Whittaker was clearly in denial about the harm he's done, to his family and mine."

"Yeah, that much was evident from his interview. Anyway, I gotta go. This has fucked up my Sunday, so we can add that to his crimes. I figured you'd want a heads-up, and that you might like to know you were probably right about your brother; he's dangerous."

"I never really doubted it, but thanks. Oh, the article; is it actionable?"

"Probably not, giving it only stated facts and asked questions, but you can bet we're going after 'em. You can file a civil suit, of course."

"No. Think I'll stick with keeping my head down until it blows over."

"Good luck."

"Yeah, you too. Sorry about your Sunday. We enjoyed last night. Damn, does this mean I can save myself a trip to the Yard?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, but I can't risk sharing anything with you for a while. Obviously, we're not doing anything illegal, but I didn't run it by my super before agreeing, and I'll probably be audited out of this. They won't find anything, but it's a fucking pain in the arse. I had the thought that there might be a copy of your Mum's file in some dusty corner of the internet. Hell, there's probably more info there than is left in our records. Might be worth a look."

"That's a good idea, thanks. All right. I'm sorry about this, but I'm glad you're not holding it against me."

"No, not you. I'd better not be the one who arrests your brother though; might mess up his pretty face."

Well understanding the urge, Strike merely says, "Half-brother. And have at it."

Wardle utters a harsh laugh and hangs up.

Strike considers this development for a few seconds, and then logs onto his work account to tweak the agency rota a little, making time for a staff meeting first thing in the morning. Time to get proactive about thwarting his half-brother.