Page 45 of The Hallmarked Man
‘Seems to have made himself unpopular,’ said Strike, turning the page over to look at Powell’s picture again. He didn’t look much of a villain, but Strike well remembered a young private in the Rifle Corps who’d resembled a choirboy and been convicted of rape in Cyprus.
‘I haven’t found any social media for Powell yet,’ said Robin, ‘but I’ll keep trying.’
‘OK,’ said Strike, ‘and I’ll ask Hardy if he can find out anything on Niall Semple for me.’
Their food now arrived. Strike ate a couple of chips, then said,
‘You know, I wouldn’t mind knowing whether DCI Truman ever rolls his trousers up when he’s not paddling.’
‘What?’
‘You have to roll up your trouser leg during initiation into the Freemasons. Prove you’re unshackled – a free man. I don’t think the Freemasons killed Wright,’ Strike said, as Robin opened her mouth to speak, ‘but Truman wanting to hush up the sash and the hallmark on the body’s back makes you think, as does the fact that he fell over himself to rule out the Freemasonry connection to the press.’
‘Somebody said online that Truman is a mason. It was in the comments on one of the news stories. They even gave his lodge.’
‘Did they, now?’
‘But that’s the kind of thing peoplewouldsay, isn’t it? I’ve been looking at some of the conspiracy theories about masons and people can’t make up their minds whether they’re a front for Jewish world domination, or affiliated with Ku Klux Klan.’
‘There was a good bit of Freemasonry in the army, when I was still in,’ said Strike. ‘Hardy used to take the piss out of me for saying it influenced promotions. His shtick was, masonry’s a man’s private affair, nobody’d let it spill over into his day-to-day life, but I witnessed people cosying up to a known Grand Master at mess dinners. Freemasonry used to be rife in the police, as well. Coppers and serious criminals belonging to the same lodges. Remember Duncan Hanrahan?’
‘No,’ said Robin.
‘Freemason and ex-copper turned crook. Tried to do a bit of bribery through his masonic connections on the force. Might see what I can turn up on DCI Truman,’ said Strike, making a note to that effect.
‘Is that necessary?’ said Robin.
Strike looked up. His partner was suddenly looking tense, and Strike guessed instantly that she was worried about her boyfriend’s reaction, should he learn that the agency had turned its attention on one of his fellow policeman. This situation, Strike knew, wanted playing very carefully. He raised his eyebrows.
‘You don’t think it’s relevant, if Truman had a personal motive for rushing out the ID of Knowles?’
‘I just can’t see how Truman being a mason would get us any nearer to identifying Wright,’ said Robin.
She had, indeed, suddenly become conscious of the possible ramifications of this light-hearted conversation. She’d already fibbed to Murphy by telling him they were trying to find Rupert Fleetwood rather than attempting to double-check the Met’s identification of Knowles. What would he say if he found out they were staking out masonic lodges for signs of a senior policeman entering and leaving?
‘I’d say it’s fairly relevant to our investigation, if the lead copper let personal loyalties override his professional duty,’ said Strike. ‘What if he suppressed information, because it was convenient to identify Wright as Knowles? What was the name of Truman’s alleged lodge, can you remember?’
‘No,’ said Robin truthfully, though she was further rattled by the ‘personal loyalties’ comment. She didn’t like this feeling of divided allegiances, which she’d never experienced before during a case.
Deciding to temporarily back off Truman and the masons – better by far for Murphy to be the one pissing Robin off, rather than him – Strike ate a few more chips, then said,
‘Well, we should have a look for this website Wright visited, for people who’ve been wrongly accused, but it’s a bloody odd thing for Knowles to have done. Career criminals like him don’t usually need internet strangers to tell them how to cover their arses.’
‘No,’ agreed Robin, ‘but itmightfit Rupert Fleetwood. Maybe he was looking for advice on how to convince the police he hadn’t really stolen that nef?’
‘He marched upstairs in the club in broad daylight to nick it, thenadmitted to his girlfriend he had it and refused to give it back, which isn’t the behaviour of a man keen on covering his tracks. If you ask me, nicking that nef was about more than money. Fleetwood was sending a giant “fuck you” to Dino Longcaster. Longcaster’s his godfather. Fleetwood probably assumed he could slack off at work because of the family connection, then had a hissy fit when he realised he couldn’t. The whole thing smacks of arrogance and entitlement.’
‘Nice that you’re keeping an open mind about him,’ said Robin drily.
‘I don’t like grifters and leeches,’ said Strike. ‘But OK, for the sake of argument: say itwasFleetwood in the vault. He’s gone to ground at Ramsay Silver to evade his various problems and responsibilities, intending to flog his nef to Kenneth Ramsay, who’s just lied to us about being offered it. Why would he then use the work computer to find out how to worm his way out of a theft charge? He’d successfully disappeared from view and found a possible buyer for the goods. You’d think he’d be ordering champagne online, not asking for advice.’
Robin now looked even more troubled.
‘What’s the matter?’ said Strike.
‘I just… we aren’t doing something immoral, taking this case, are we?’
Shit.
