Chapter Twenty-eight

Tonight, the newlyweds are staying at a B&B near the Victory, Robin rightly suspecting that Strike would be quite drunk by the time the party wrapped up. His arm around her shoulders is a heavy burden as they say goodbye to people in the street, most of whom are staying in the town. As she guides her inebriated husband towards their room, Dave Polworth asks, "Need 'elp?"

He's swaying slightly himself, so it's Penny who suggests, "You'd prob'ly steer 'em into the drink, you pillock."

Robin laughs and assures them, "I'm fine. It's downhill. If he falls, I'll just roll him the rest of the way."

Thankfully, Strike isn't so far gone that he can't follow simple instructions, and he meekly uses the bathroom before collapsing onto the bed, still fully clothed, to needlessly reveal, "I'm hammered, Rob."

Grabbing his arm and hauling him into a sitting position, she says, "I'm aware, and you need to strip off before you get into bed."

He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her towards him, crowing, "Now you're talkin'."

Ducking out of his embrace, Robin commands, "Get undressed. You're too drunk for sex."

"I'll never be that drunk," insists Strike, even as he obeys.

When he's down to his boxers and undershirt, Robin says, "That'll do."

He again flops down on top of the bed covers, this time to start humming the familiar Tom Waits song that they'd slow-danced to only a couple of hours ago. "An' I think that I jus' fell in love with yooooo. S'a good party, Rob?"

Wondering how much he'll remember of it when he's sober, Robin says, "The best. But, darling, your leg."

Strike's eyes open and he gazes at her for a few bewildered seconds before glancing down at his manufactured limb and saying, "Right."

He's struggling to sit up when Robin offers, "Want me to do it?"

Strike freezes and asks, "What?"

"Take care of your leg for you. I've seen you do it often enough." When Strike merely stares at her, his expression unreadable, Robin assumes that she's crossed some line, so shakes her head, saying, "Never mind. Sorry."

A moment later, Strike falls backwards onto the bed, saying, "Yeah, okay. Cheers." It takes a while, because seeing him perform this daily ritual many times doesn't translate to ease for Robin. But his prosthetic leg is resting beside the bed, and she's applying lotion to the end of his stump, which fortunately is only slightly inflamed after a day sailing and an evening on his feet. And Strike comments, "This feels oddly intimate."

Robin glances at him, to see sober desire looking back at her. She laughs and accuses, "Kinky."

"Not that you're touching my stump, that you're looking after me. No one has ever done this for me, not while I was conscious anyway."

Finishing her task and capping the tube, she puts it back in his washbag, saying, "I suppose you were a nightmare as a patient, always trying to do more than they wanted you to?"

"Absolutely. And I fucking hate a catheter; would literally rather crawl to the bog than have a tube up m' todger. And I'm not too crazy about the piss bottle either. But I was crap with the crutches at first. Bet I've pissed myself more often than you have."

Robin laughs and says, "A competition I'm happy for you to win. Need anything else?" When the corner of his mouth lifts in a lecherous grin, she adds, "Other than that."

"No, just that."

He really does look cute, all tipsy and horny at the same time, but Robin says, "Right, get into bed. I need to pee and brush my teeth. If you're still awake when I get back, I'll consider that."

Strike wakes with a headache, to the smell of coffee. Blinking against the harsh light of day, he sees that Robin is sitting at a small dining table of what looks like a boutique hotel suite. And then he remembers that they're a stone's throw from the Victory and, "I fell asleep on you, didn't I?"

She smiles at him and says, "Not quite on me, but yes. How are you feeling?"

Tentatively sitting up, relieved that his stomach and head don't rebel against the movement, he's able to reveal, "Not too shabby." Pointing to the coffee pot, he asks, "Can I have some of that?"

"Of course." Robin pours him a cup and walks it over to him, saying, "When you check your phone, you'll see a message from Eric; they got permission, so they'll search the place as soon they can, maybe even later today."

"Sniffer dog?"

"No, he said something about analysing the air inside the well."

Strike gulps some coffee and says, "It's pretty much what Bo did, but takes longer. Fuck, Rob, we gotta stop solving cases so fast, or we'll never become rich."

Robin doesn't share his ability to make light of murder. But she doesn't mind Strike's dark humour, understanding that his experience of horror is so much greater than hers; the jokes are a coping mechanism. She offers a weak smile and reminds him, "Rich was never our goal."

Swallowing another scalding mouthful, Strike says, "I dunno; I'd give it a go, if only for the novelty." When she doesn't laugh, he asks, "Are your family still in town?"

This visibly brightens her mood, and Robin says, "Yes, and they're hoping to have breakfast with us, if that's okay? They've booked a 9am table at the caff next door to their cottage."

Checking the time, to see that it's almost nine now—the Ellacotts will want to leave for Yorkshire soon—Strike says, "Sure. Tell Linda to start without us, and we'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"

"Thank you, darling."

By the time he has two feet, Robin has finished her phone call, and he asks, "Did I dream that you removed my leg for me last night?"

"No, that happened," says Robin, with a trill of laughter. "I'm surprised you remember."

"Oh, I remember, thank you. Right, I'm gonna take a piss and then brush my teeth before I kiss you, because my mouth tastes like an ashtray, though I don't recall having a fag."

Smiling, Robin reveals, "Dave persuaded you."

Suddenly worried, he asks, "I didn't smoke near you and the baby?"

"No. You actually went outside to vape, but I could see you through the window sharing Dave's cigarette."

"Sorry about that. And, did I otherwise behave myself?"

Beaming at him, Robin says, "Don't worry, Strike, there's not enough alcohol in the world to make you anything other than a good man." Immobilised by the sudden power of his love for her, Strike is still gazing at his wife when she reminds him, "Breakfast?"

Snapping out of it, he says "Right," and kisses the top of her head on the way past, saying, "Wanna stay on my mother-in-law's good side."

Robin laughs and agrees, "Very wise."

The detectives are on their way back to London, Robin at the wheel, when Strike's phone rings, and he answers it, "Anything?" A moment later, he says, "No idea. Hang on, Rob might know. I'll put you on speaker. She's driving."

Wardle's voice asks, "You there, Robin?"

"Yeah."

"Catrin Baker had a full set of luggage. Do you recall the colour? I've got it written down somewhere if you don't."

Her heart beating faster, because she suspects why he's asking, Robin reveals, "Dusky pink." Recalling something from her furtive search of the women's apartment, she adds, "And Allise Goldberg favours purple."

"Right. That's not what they've found at the scene. Analysis of the well confirmed possible human remains, so they got a snake camera down there, and there's what looks like the corner of a large black suitcase poking out of some rubble."

Confused—she was certain he was about to confirm that Cat's body rests in that well—Robin asks, "Someone else is buried there?"

"Either that or it's a popular dumping site."

Feeling suddenly ill, Robin waves away the phone, and Strike takes it off speaker to conclude the call, though his words barely penetrate her rising panic. And then he asks, "Need to pull over? I can drive."

His tender concern works its magic, and she immediately feels a little better. "No, I'm okay. I know we'd be out of a job if they did, but I can't help wishing that humans would stop being so horrid to each other."

"Amen."

After a few moments of focusing on her breathing, Robin becomes aware that Strike is surreptitiously studying her. Given that she nearly steered them into oncoming traffic the one time she had a panic attack while driving, his concern is justified, so she says, "I really am fine, I promise. Did he say anything else?"

No longer concealing that he's staring at her, Strike studies her profile for a few seconds before revealing, "Just that it's enough for a warrant to excavate. It'll probably be a few days before he knows more. Oh, and obviously we're to keep this between us."

"Of course," says Robin, and then she asks, "If it's not Cat, are we still working on the case?"

"Not sure. It may still be her. Guess I could call Brynn and ask what she wants, maybe explain there's been a possible development in her sister's case, but without revealing any details?"

"Good idea. Perhaps mention that she won't be charged anything while we wait for news?"

Strike chuckles and agrees, "That should satisfy her." They're both quiet for a while, and then he suggests, "You know, we didn't really take time off, but we could now."

He's worried about her. Robin smiles and reminds him, "The reason we didn't have a standard honeymoon is because I love working with you. If it's getting too much for me, I'll tell you, okay?"

Fortunately, he trusts her enough to only hesitate a moment before saying, "Okay. If we're easing off on Plus Four, should we take on another case?"

"Yeah, probably; a simple one. We'll handle it though, so we don't have to mess with this month's rota."

Strike taps away on his phone for several seconds, and then says, "Got an odd one here, that shouldn't take more than a few days; someone recommended by Tasha Mayo. Seems the woman's pedigree dog is pregnant, and she's out for blood, wondering who the sire is, and how someone got past her security."

Robin can't help a laugh, and asks, "Seriously?"

"Apparently, it's ruined the animal for showing or some such thing, so it's a huge deal, and a big payday if we solve it."

With a shrug, Robin says, "Do you want to?"

After a moment, Strike shrugs and says, "If this is sabotage, there's still an injustice to correct."

Glancing at him, Robin asks, "Is that why you do this? Because you can't stand injustice?"

"I'm sure that's a big part of it. And something about restoring order; I've never liked things being out of place." With a quiet smile, he concludes, "Plus, I don't like not knowing."

"Then you're better than me, because I hate not knowing. The worst thing you can do is tell me that there's a surprise waiting for me, but not tell me what it is."

Strike chuckles and agrees, "I'll remember that." When he rests his hand between them, Robin places her hand in his, and he says, "Don't think I've told you yet today; I love you."

With one eye on the road, Robin kisses the back of his hand and releases him, saying, "Good, because I'm over the moon for you. Hey, what are we going to call this new case?" At Strike's loud laughter, she asks, "What?"

"You go from affectionate to professional at the speed of light."

Supremely confident, Robin smiles and says, "If I couldn't do that, you'd never have married me."

"True." Strike settles back in his seat and suggests, "Puppy Love?"

"Sounds more like puppy rape, but I guess it'll do."

"Fuck's sake, Ellacott, you know how to drag the mood down."

With a grin, Robin lies, "Sorry."