Page 336 of The Hallmarked Man
‘He was a kid who came to town with the fair,’ said Strike. ‘She left him a week after she married him.’
‘Huh,’ said Rokeby. ‘I always fort she made it up. So you use the name of a bloke you never met?’
‘I use it because it was my mother’s,’ said Strike. ‘Can we drop—?’
‘Listen, I ’ear fings, from the others,’ said Rokeby, leaning forwards. ‘I know you fink I wanna look good to the press, sayin’ we’re in touch, but you’re wrong. I bin tryin’ to keep the papers off your fuckin’ back, ’cause if they fink you might sell me out, they’ll be after you like fuckin’ jackals… wanna sandwich or somefing? I was s’posed to be goin’ out to dinner before Pru called and said you was comin’. I could do wiv somefing.’
Strike’s dislike did brief battle with his extreme hunger, because he’d left his damn sandwich at Heston uneaten, thanks to this business.
‘Yeah, I could do with something,’ he said reluctantly.
Rokeby hit the bell by his side again, then said,
‘Pru says you don’ wan’ kids.’
‘No,’ said Strike.
‘I was too young when I ’ad me first. Didn’ understand what it was. Then, the later ones, I spoiled ’em. Ed’s in fuckin’ rehab again,’ sighed Rokeby. ‘So, why’s that Culpepper fucker after you, anyway?’
‘I proved his wife was having an affair.’
‘Huh,’ said Rokeby, sipping his beer. ‘You wiv anyone? Got a woman?’
‘No,’ said Strike.
‘I was sorry to ’ear abou’ that Charlotte.’
‘Yeah, well,’ said Strike.
‘Gorgeous but crazy,’ said Rokeby. ‘Been there meself. Carla was like that. One day you wake up an’ fink, yeah, great tits an’ beau’ful face, but fuckin’ ’orrible person. I got it righ’ in the end, though. Jenny an’ me bin togevver since ’81, didja know tha’?’
‘I did, yeah,’ said Strike, choosing not to mention that some might not consider Rokeby’s third marriage an unqualified triumph, given his multiple, well-publicised infidelities.
‘She’s left me free times, then come back,’ said Rokeby. ‘We b’long togevver, simple as. She’s in Australia righ’ now, producin’ some film…’
Strike’s own mobile rang and, seeing Robin’s name, he answered.
‘Hi, everything all right?’
‘I’m… OK,’ she said, but he could hear the strain in her voice. ‘I’m fine, but I’m at a police station.’
‘Wh—?’
‘That man who threatened me with the masonic dagger—’
‘What?’ He stood up and walked towards the drawing room door, unable to sit still while listening to this.
‘Please –please– don’t start shouting at me,’ said Robin, and Strike could tell she was crying. ‘Please.I know I fucked up. I didn’t see anyone behind me on the way to Beaconsfield, but I should have checked the car – he’d put a tracking device on it.’
‘You sure you’re all right?’ said Strike, though plainly she wasn’t all right, and he wasn’t sure why he was saying something so stupid.
‘Yes, he didn’t use a knife, he was trying to – to abduct me, or something, he got in the car—’
‘How d’you know it was the same bloke?’
‘He was wearing the same green jacket,’ said Robin, who was fighting sobs. ‘But I used the spray and that’s how I got him off me, and there was a man coming down the street who heard me scream and he helped, he dragged him off me and held him down and called the police.’
‘Jesus Chr—’
