Lethal White (A Cormoran Strike Novel)

“She was his third or fourth,” said Raphael, nodding. “I can never remember. Anyway, he only had sons, so he let all his wives wear the thing in turn, then left it to my father, who kept the new tradition going. His wives got to wear it—even my mother got a shot—and he forgot about the handing on to the daughter on her twenty-first bit, Pringle didn’t get it and he didn’t mention it in his will.”

“So—wait, d’you mean it’s now—?”

“Dad called me up that morning and told me I had to get hold of the bloody thing. Simple job, kind of thing anyone would enjoy,” he said, sarcastically. “Bust in on a stepmother who hates my guts, find out where she’s keeping a valuable necklace, then steal it from under her nose.”

“So you think your father believed that she was leaving him, and was worried that she was going to take it with her?”

“I suppose so,” said Raphael.

“How did he sound on the phone?”

“I told you this. Groggy. I thought it was a hangover. After I heard he’d killed himself,” Raphael faltered, “… well.”

“Well?”

“To tell you the truth,” said Raphael, “I couldn’t get it out of my head that the last thing Dad wanted to say to me in this life was, ‘run along and make sure your sister gets her diamonds.’ Words to treasure forever, eh?”

At a loss for anything to say, Robin took another sip of wine, then asked quietly:

“Do Izzy and Fizzy realize the necklace is Kinvara’s now?”

Raphael’s lips twisted in an unpleasant smile.

“Well, they know it is legally, but here’s the really funny thing: they think she’s going to hand it over to them. After everything they’ve said about her, after calling her a gold-digger for years, slagging her off at every possible opportunity, they can’t quite grasp that she won’t hand the necklace over to Fizzy for Flopsy—damn it—Florence—because,” he affected a shrill upper-class voice, “‘Darling, even TTS wouldn’t do that, it belongs in the family, she must realize she can’t sell it.’

“Bullets would bounce off their self-regard. They think there’s a kind of natural law in operation, where Chiswells get what they want and lesser beings just fall into line.”

“How did Henry Drummond know you were trying to stop Kinvara keeping the necklace? He told Cormoran you went to Chiswell House for noble reasons.”

Raphael snorted.

“Cat’s really out of the bag, isn’t it? Yeah, apparently Kinvara left a message for Henry the day before Dad died, asking where she could get a valuation on the necklace.”

“Is that why he phoned your father that morning?”

“Exactly. To warn him what she was up to.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police all this?”

“Because once the others find out she’s planning to sell it, the whole thing’s going to turn nuclear. There’ll be an almighty row and the family’ll go to lawyers and expect me to join them in kicking the shit out of Kinvara, and meanwhile I’m still treated like a second-class citizen, like a fucking courier, driving all the old paintings up to Drummond in London and hearing how much Dad was getting for them, and not a penny of that did I ever see—I’m not getting caught up in the middle of the great necklace scandal, I’m not playing their bloody game. I should’ve told Dad to stuff it, the day he phoned,” said Raphael, “but he didn’t sound well, and I suppose I felt sorry for him, or something, which only goes to prove they’re right, I’m not a proper bloody Chiswell.”

He had run out of breath. Two couples had joined them in the restaurant now. Robin watched in the mirror as a well-groomed blonde did a double take at Raphael as she sat down with her florid, overweight companion.

“So, why did you leave Matthew?” Raphael asked.

“He cheated,” said Robin. She didn’t have the energy to lie.

“Who with?”

She had the impression he was seeking to redress some kind of power balance. However much anger and contempt he had displayed during the outburst about his family, she had heard the hurt, too.

“With a friend of his from university,” said Robin.

“How did you find out?”

“A diamond earring, in our bed.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” said Robin.

She felt a sudden wave of depression and fatigue at the idea of traveling all the way back to that hard sofa in Wembley. She had not yet called her parents to tell them what had happened.

“Under normal circumstances,” said Raphael, “I’d be putting the moves on you. Well, not right now. Not tonight. But give it a couple of weeks…

“Trouble is, I look at you,” he raised a forefinger, and pointed first to her, and then to an imaginary figure behind her, “and I see your one-legged boss looming over your shoulder.”

“Is there any particular reason you feel the need to mention him being one-legged?”

Raphael grinned.

“Protective, aren’t you?”

“No, I—”

“It’s all right. Izzy fancies him, too.”

“I never—”

“Defensive, too.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Robin, half-laughing, and Raphael grinned.

“I’m having another beer. Drink that wine, why don’t you?” he said, indicating her glass, which was still two-thirds full.