Page 96 of The Hallmarked Man
Spotless, with blue and white tiles: a nice house in every way, except that Robin had already made up her mind. The stairs were narrow, and Murphy released her hand to let her walk down first. As they were descending, the doorbell rang.
‘Whoops, I think that’s the next lot, early!’ said the homeowner.
‘Have you had a lot of interest?’ asked Murphy.
‘We have,’ said the woman, with a note of apology. ‘If you’d like to go into the garden and have a proper look?’
So Robin and Murphy exited through the back door, to stand on the frosty lawn and breathe in the dank, sooty taste of the gradually lifting fog.
‘What d’you think?’ asked Murphy.
‘Nice,’ said Robin, who didn’t want to find fault too quickly.
‘I bet you it goes for way over the asking price.’
‘I was thinking that, too,’ she said, feigning regret, ‘and parking could be tricky, with two cars. Still, itisnice.’
Through the kitchen window they saw a family of four looking around.
‘Want to have another look upstairs?’ said Murphy.
‘There are good photos online. We could go and get a coffee, have a look at the area?’
‘Good idea.’
So they headed back through the house, thanked the owners, and emerged again onto Moselle Avenue. As they were about to cross the road, Murphy’s mobile rang.
‘Work,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’
He walked away up the street, answering the call only once he was out of earshot. Robin waited until he was fifty yards away before calling Strike back.
‘How was the house?’ he asked.
‘Not great,’ said Robin, and she felt a sense of release in saying it, although she knew it wasn’t the house she hadn’t liked, but Murphy’s squeeze of her hand – in consolation? Hope? Encouragement? ‘Tell me your news, because I’ve got some, too.’
Strike told Robin about Ralph Lawrence’s visit to the office the previous afternoon.
‘God above,’ said Robin, immensely relieved that she’d prevented Strike telling her all this over the car Bluetooth. ‘MI5 are warning us off?’
‘Assuming he’s telling the truth about who he is,’ said Strike. ‘MI6 would be involved initially, if Semple was Regiment.’
‘What regiment?’
‘TheRegiment,’ said Strike. ‘SAS, and, if I had to bet, I’d say E Squadron.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Covert ops, which explains why there were no details given in the press on how he got his brain injury. He was doing something the British public and the enemy aren’t supposed to know about. Also explains his beard. Special Forces are the only ones who’re allowed them. But I’m not worried about Lawrence.’
‘You aren’t?’
‘I think, if he genuinely had evidence Semple wasn’t the body in the vault, he’d have shared it. In the absence of proof, we’re well within our rights to keep investigating.’
Robin said nothing, although she was once again imagining Murphy’s expression, if he could hear what Strike was saying.
‘Anyway,’ Strike continued, ‘I’ve sent another message to Semple’s wife, and I’m hoping to hear back from my SIB mate Hardy, who I’veasked to dig out some intel on Semple for me. But that’s not the only thing I had to tell you…’
Strike now described the note that had been pushed through the agency’s door. When he’d finished, Robin said,
