Page 97 of The Hallmarked Man
‘What thehell?’
‘Yeah,’ said Strike, ‘and I think I know who posted it. There was a woman standing at the end of the road when I left the office yesterday, and she didn’t want me to see her face. Didn’t think much of it at the time, but I think she was heading for our door to poke the note through the letterbox when she saw me coming out. When I passed her she was trying to look like she was just waiting for someone, but it’s an odd meeting place, a freezing cold corner in a street full of pubs and kebab shops.’
‘Say the name again?’
‘Dangerous Dick de Lion.’
‘He sounds like—’
‘A porn star?’
‘I was going to say, a cartoon character.’
‘He’s a porn star.’
‘Wh—?’
‘I’ve looked him up. He’s a bona fide adult actor, and from the looks of the woman lurking in the street, she’s in the industry too. What’s more, if Dangerous Dick had any social media accounts, he’s deleted them all. Obviously that might mean a fresh start away from the porn industry – but it might not.’
Not entirely to Strike’s surprise, ten seconds of stunned silence from Robin ensued.
‘The note said “hadhim killed”?’
‘Yeah.’
‘By someone on TV?’
‘So it seems.’
‘But wouldn’t that—?’
‘Tie in with Shanker’s story, about a bigshot with people to do his bidding? It would, yeah,’
‘And how doessheknow we’re investigating the body?’
‘That, to me, is far more interesting than the dimensions of Dangerous Dick de Lion, which you can look up for yourself if you’re interested.’
‘And why write a note? She could have just emailed us anonymously.’
‘Maybe she doesn’t want to leave a cyber footprint. She might think we employ computer whizz-kids who can track her down. The note looked like she’d tried to make sure her handwriting wouldn’t be identifiable, which might explain the cipher, although another name for pigpen cipher is the masonic cipher.’
‘You’re kidding,’ said Robin, with a glance at Murphy, who still had his back to her.
‘I don’t know whether this is all bullshit or not,’ said Strike, ‘but going forwards, we take precautions. I want to know where you are at all times, and if it’s a question of going to a badly lit or sparsely populated location, you don’t go alone.’
‘And am I going to know whereyouare at all times?’ asked Robin.
‘If you want,’ said Strike.
‘But that’s less important?’
‘I’m not looking to get hacked to death and dressed in a masonic sash, but I respectfully suggest they’d find it harder to do that to me than to you. What’s your news?’
‘What?’ said Robin. ‘Oh, yes – a few things. Tyler Powell’s grandmother just called me back. She’s been in hospital. She’d be happy to speak to me, if I come to Ironbridge.’
‘Excellent,’ said Strike. ‘We might be able to pick Dilys and Semple’s wife off in a single round trip.’
‘OK, great,’ said Robin.
