Lethal White (A Cormoran Strike Novel)

“First day back on two legs and Dodgy Doc’s finally decided to go and meet a girl on the sly. Chelsea Physic Garden, Tube to Sloane Square and a bugger of a walk. Anyway,” he panted, “what’s your bad news?”

“It’s more of the same,” said Robin. “Mitch Patterson just accosted me outside Parliament.”

“Shit. D’you think he recognized you?”

“He didn’t seem to, but I don’t know. I should clear out, shouldn’t I?” said Robin, contemplating the cream ceiling, which was stuccoed in a pattern of overlapping circles. “We could put someone else in here. Andy, or Barclay?”

“Not yet,” said Strike. “If you walk out the moment you meet Mitch Patterson, it’ll look like you’re the story for sure. Anyway, Chiswell wants you to go to this reception tomorrow night, to try and get the rest of the dirt on Winn from that other trustee—what was her name, Elspeth? Bollocks—sorry—having trouble here, it’s a bloody woodchip path. Dodgy’s taking the girl for a walk into the undergrowth. She looks about seventeen.”

“Don’t you need your phone, to take photographs?”

“I’m wearing those glasses with the inbuilt camera… oh, here we go,” he added quietly. “Dodgy’s copping a feel in some bushes.”

Robin waited. She could hear a very faint clicking.

“And here come some genuine horticulturalists,” Strike muttered. “That’s driven them back out into the open…

“Listen,” he continued, “meet me at the office tomorrow after work, before you go to that reception. We’ll take stock of everything we’ve got so far and make a decision on what to do next. Try your best to get the second listening device back, but don’t replace it, just in case we need to take you out of there.”

“All right,” said Robin, full of foreboding, “but it’s going to be difficult. I’m sure Aamir is suspic—Cormoran, I’m going to have to go.”

Izzy and Raphael had just walked into the tearoom. Raphael had his arm around his half-sister, who, Robin saw at once, was distressed to the point of tears. He saw Robin, who hastily hung up on Strike, made a grimace indicating that Izzy was in a bad way, then muttered something to his sister, who nodded and headed towards Robin’s table, leaving Raphael to buy drinks.

“Izzy!” said Robin, pulling out a chair for her. “Are you all right?”

As Izzy sat down, tears leaked out of her eyes. Robin passed her a paper napkin.

“Thanks, Venetia,” she said huskily. “I’m so sorry. Making a fuss. Silly.”

She took a deep shuddering breath and sat upright, with the posture of a girl who had been told for years to sit up straight and pull herself together.

“Just silly,” she repeated, tears welling again.

“Dad’s just been a total bastard to her,” said Raphael, arriving with a tray.

“Don’t say that, Raff,” hiccuped Izzy, another tear trickling down her nose. “I know he didn’t mean it. He was upset when I arrived and then I made it worse. Did you know he’s lost Freddie’s gold money clip?”

“No,” said Raphael, without much interest.

“He thinks he left it at some hotel on Kinvara’s birthday. They’d just called him back when I arrived. They haven’t got it. You know what Papa’s like about Freddie, even now.”

An odd look passed over Raphael’s face, as though he had been struck by an unpleasant thought.

“And then,” said Izzy, shakily, “I’d misdated a letter and he flew off the handle…”

Izzy twisted the damp napkin between her hands.

“Five years,” she burst out. “Five years I’ve worked for him, and I can count on one hand how many times he’s thanked me for anything. When I told him I was thinking of leaving he said ‘not till after the Olympics,’” her voice quavered, “‘because I don’t want to have to break in someone new before then.’”

Raphael swore under his breath.

“Oh, but he’s not that bad, really,” said Izzy quickly, in an almost comical volte-face. Robin knew that she had just remembered her hope that Raphael would take over her job. “I’m just upset, making it sound worse than it—”

Her mobile rang. She read the caller’s name and let out a moan.

“Not TTS, not now, I can’t. Raff, you speak to her.”

She held out the mobile to him, but Raphael recoiled as though asked to hold a tarantula.

“Please, Raff—please… ”

With extreme reluctance, Raphael took the phone.

“Hi, Kinvara. Raff here, Izzy’s out of the office. No… Venetia’s not here… no… I’m at the office, obviously, I just picked up Izzy’s phone… He’s just gone to the Olympic Park. No… no, I’m not… I don’t know where Venetia is, all I know is, she’s not here… yes… yes… OK… bye, then—” He raised his eyebrows. “Hung up.”

He pushed the phone back across the table to Izzy, who asked:

“Why’s she so interested in where Venetia is?”

“Three guesses,” said Raphael, amused. Catching his drift, Robin looked out of the window, feeling the color rising in her face. She wondered whether Mitch Patterson had called Kinvara, and planted this idea in her head.

“Oh, come orf it,” said Izzy. “She thinks Papa’s…? Venetia’s young enough to be his daughter!”