Page 354 of The Hallmarked Man
‘Because Dino was after him, obviously.’
‘Did he tell you he’d been at Sacha’s birthday party?’
Tara took another drag on her cigarette.
‘Hedidn’t, but Sacha told me he’d gatecrashed.’
‘Did Sacha say why?’
‘Presumably because he doesn’t often get to hang out with the beautiful people,’ said Tara.
‘Not good-looking enough for a front-of-house job, then? Dish washing, is he?’
‘I’ve just told you, I don’t know where he is and I don’t know what he’s doing.’
‘OK,’ said Strike, getting to his feet. ‘I won’t trouble you any longer. Mind if I have a slash before I go?’
‘Yes,’ snarled Tara.
‘No need to get up,’ said Strike, as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘I remember where the bog is.’
111
Seems as if we’d got to the end of things…
John Oxenham
A Maid of the Silver Sea
Preferring to leave the environs of Heberley House well behind him before he took a break for something to eat, Strike drove south to the city of York. Sitting in his parked BMW, and looking forward to a late pub lunch after he’d got this unpalatable duty out of the way, he phoned Decima Mullins.
When he’d finished giving an account of his interview with Tara, Decima said in a high-pitched voice,
‘No – that can’t be true. He’dneverhave – he wasn’t even incontactwith Tara – no, she must be lying!’
‘She’s got the nef,’ said Strike, ‘and frankly, I feel stupid for not remembering that there was an ex-wife who’d be delighted to piss off Dino Longcaster, isn’t strong on ethics and has money to burn. She claims not to know which hotel Rupert’s working in, but I think she’s telling the truth about him working in one of them. She pulled strings to get him and Tish Benton jobs with the chain. I’m sorry, I know this isn’t the answer you were hoping for, but—’
‘So you’re going to call round all the Clairmont hotels, when he’s not eventhere?’
‘I think heisat one of those hotels,’ said Strike, trying to inject sympathy rather than impatience into his voice, ‘and no, I’m not going to call them. This ends the case.’
‘Wh – you’re walking out on me?’
‘There’s nothing to be done now that you can’t do yourself, so itwould be wrong to keep billing you. I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘I know you didn’t want to believe Rupert’s alive, but—’
‘It’s not that – how can you say that?’ she cried. ‘OfcourseI’d rather think he’s alive, but he’d never have left me like this,never!’
‘Sometimes we’re mistaken about people, however well we think we know them,’ said Strike, still striving for patience. ‘I’m sorry, but as far as I’m concerned, the job’s done. I wish you luck,’ he concluded lamely, ‘and – better times.’
This call ended, Strike left the BMW and, limping slightly again, set off in search of food. While walking, he called Robin and told her the story of his trip to Heberley.
‘… so it’s over,’ he concluded. ‘The job of identifying William Wright returns to the Met. We’re out.’
Strike wasn’t surprised that a shocked silence followed these words.
‘But why did Rupert leave like that?’ said Robin at last. ‘Why do it so cruelly?’
‘I can only assume the easiest explanation is the right one,’ said Strike. ‘He didn’t want a baby and took the coward’s way out. Anyway, I’m starving and there’s a pub ahead, so I’ll talk to you later.’
