Page 29 of The Hallmarked Man (Cormoran Strike #8)

‘Yeah,’ said Daz, who was now looking for teabags.

‘Wiv ’is beard an’ ’is glasses… if ’e’d ’ad an ’at, hahaha…

an’ ’e was fuckin’ orange… fake tan. An’ ’e worked out.

Seen ’im getting’ fuckin’ ’eavy boxes delivered, an’ I said, “what’s that then?

” An’ ’e said, weights, got ’em off eBay, really pleased wiv ’imself…

carryin’ ’em upstairs… we could ’ear ’im fumpin’ around up there. ’

Strike was taking rapid notes. Clint, who’d already consumed his first biscuit, helped himself surreptitiously to a second from the packet on the bed behind his mother.

‘We sorta laughed at ’im,’ said Mandy, ‘’cause ’e told me people might come round lookin’ for ’im, an’ if they did, we should say ’e weren’ there. Fort ’e was biggin’ ’imself up – but then look what ’appened,’ she said, with an air of dim surprise.

‘Did he say who might come looking for him?’ asked Robin.

‘Nah.’

‘He said “people”, did he? Plural?’

‘’E said “someone”, an’ then ’e said, “or ’e might send someone”.’

‘Makin’ out the mob was after ’im,’ said Daz, with a chortle. Turning to face them holding his tea, which he’d made in a mug bearing a cartoon picture of a penis captioned ‘Mr Bellend’, he said,

‘Know wha’ I fort ’e was? Stripogram. Fake tan an’ fuckin’ abs… I said to Mand, ’e’s a fuckin’ stripogram an’ ’e don’ wanna admit it.’

‘Clint, don’ do that,’ said Mandy sharply. Her son was trying to pull a plate off the top of the chest of drawers. When he showed signs of grizzling, she distracted him with a third biscuit. Daz, who was idly scratching his belly, said,

‘’E come down ’ere one time, Wright.’

‘Did he? Why?’ asked Robin.

‘Wan’ed to buy a bit of dope. We was ’avin’ a takeaway, an’ ’e ’ad a bit wiv us.’

‘Can you remember anything you talked about?’

‘’E said ’is girlfriend was gonna join ’im. Come an’ live wiv ’im, upstairs.’

‘Did he tell you his girlfriend’s name?’ asked Robin.

‘Nah,’ said Daz.

‘Rita, woz it?’ said Mandy vaguely.

‘Oh yeah, maybe,’ said Daz, although Robin had the impression he couldn’t remember. ‘An’ the gun fing,’ he said to Mandy, ‘remember?’

‘What gun thing was this?’ asked Robin, while Strike’s pen sped up.

‘We woz watchin’ John Wick while we was ’avin’ the Chinese,’ said Daz, ‘an’ he said someone weren’ ’olding their fuckin’ gun properly. Tryna be the ’ard man, see?’

‘No, that Rita fing…’ said Mandy, frowning. ‘Tha’ was when ’e was proper fuckin’ stoned… Rita Linda or somefing. Asked if we knew ’er. Remember?’ she said to Daz.

‘He asked if you knew someone called Rita Linda?’ said Robin.

‘Yeah… woz it Rita Linda? I fink ’e said… didn’ ’e say ’e knew what ’appened to ’er?’ she said, appealing to her boyfriend again. ‘An’ din’ ’e say we’d see it on the news?’

‘Dunno,’ said Daz, still scratching his navel.

‘It woz somefing like Rita Linda.’ Mandy ran the names together: ‘ Ritalinda .’

‘Ritalin-da,’ said Daz. ‘Hahaha.’

‘He said he knew what had happened to Rita Linda?’ said Robin. ‘And it would be on the news?’

‘Yeah, somefing like… an’ ’e dropped ’is doob tube, remember, Daz? An’ ’e told you it was a fuckin’ blood sample, like you was gonna nick it off ’im.’

‘I don’t understand, sorry,’ said Robin. ‘He dropped what?’

‘’Is doob tube. You know, where you keep your stash.

Fell outta ’is pocket when he stood up. Daz went to pick it up for ’im an’ Wright grabs it away, an’ Daz says, “all right, I wasn’t gonna fuckin’ take it,” an’ Wright says, “wouldn’t be no use to you, it’s my blood sample.

”’ Mandy cackled. ‘Blood sample! Was it fuck.’

‘Did he say why he was carrying a blood sample around with him?’ asked Robin.

‘Yeah, said ’e was gonna ’and it in at the doctors, an’ then ’e left.’

‘You saw the tube clearly, did you? It was definitely full of cannabis?’

‘Yeah,’ said Mandy, but then, ‘musta bin. ’E fort Daz was gonna nick ’is blow or why’d ’e be so weird about it?’

‘’E was a bit of a fuckin’ weirdo,’ said Daz.

‘Mind, when it come out, on the news, I says to Mand, “tha’s what the fuckin’ mason fing was.

” ’E asked me what I fort of the masons.

Sounded like ’e was finking of joining,’ said Daz, now idly examining half a joint left in an ashtray on top of the fridge.

‘Fuckin’ masons,’ he said, with a guffaw.

‘But when you heard he’d been killed in a masonic shop—’

‘Yeah, I knew why ’e’d asked. Fuckin’ masons,’ Daz said again, no longer smiling. ‘S’not funny, really, is it?’ he said, as though everyone else had been laughing.

‘Can you remember anything else he said?’ asked Robin. ‘Like, where he’d come from? Anything about his family?’

‘Nah,’ said Daz.

‘Don’t fink so,’ said Mandy regretfully, ‘I don’ fink… nah.’

‘Did he ever have visitors, that you can remember?’ asked Robin.

‘Yeah, a girl an’ some dick’ead in sunglasses. But ’e wasn’ ’ere then, wozee?’ Mandy asked Daz.

‘I wasn’t ’ere eiver,’ said Daz.

‘Oh yeah,’ said Mandy, and she smirked. ‘I forgot.’

‘Wright had visitors when he wasn’t in?’ asked Robin.

‘Yeah,’ said Mandy, ‘it was after ’e was killed. No,’ she corrected herself, ‘the girl was before. The bloke was after. I only realised later. Toldja, din’ I?’ she said to Daz, who nodded.

‘Can you tell me about them?’ asked Robin. ‘Starting with the girl?’

‘She come, like, the evening before ’e was killed.’

‘You’re sure of the date? Friday the seventeenth of June?’

Mandy looked alarmed at being asked to be so precise, but then said,

‘Yeah, it was then, ’cause that weekend, when all what ’appened, ’appened, me an’ ’im’ – she pointed at Daz – ‘we’d ’ad a row an’ I told ’im to get out, an’ when I ’eard someone open the front door in the evening, I fort it was Daz come back, so I open our door an’ I seen ’er.’

‘She let herself in?’

‘Yeah, she ’ad a key,’ said Mandy. ‘She looked foreign. Like, maybe Pakistani, but light. Black ’air, really long. An’ wearing a pink top wiv flowers on it,’ she added, and she looked pleased to have remembered it. ‘An’ she was carryin’ a suitcase.’

Beside Robin, Strike’s pen was moving ever faster.

‘An’ I says to ’er, “you movin’ in?” ’cause of Wright sayin’ ’is girlfriend was gonna move in wiv ’im an’ she says, “just visitin’” an’ she didn’ sound English an’ she wen’ upstairs an’ about an hour later, she come back down, ’cause I was lookin’ out of the window—’

‘Lookin’ for me,’ said Daz smugly.

‘No, I wasn’,’ snapped Mandy. ‘I was jus’ lookin’ out the window! She come down an’ she could ’ardly carry the suitcase now, an’ she ’eaves it into the boot of a car an’ off she goes.’

‘What can you remember about the car?’

‘Silver coloured,’ said Mandy. ‘Looked new.’

‘Can you remember a make?’

‘Nah,’ said Mandy. ‘An’ then, really early nex’ day, like, five in the mornin’, I ’ears the front door again—’

‘Couldn’ sleep,’ Daz said smugly. ‘Missin’ me.’

‘Missin’ you, my arse,’ said Mandy loftily, ‘but I fort it was gonna be Daz this time, so I got up an’ I opened our door an’ I seen this guy wiv curly ’air goin’ up the stairs, an’ ’e ’ad an empty suitcase an’ all, an’ ’e looked back at me when I come out into the ’all an’ ’e was wearing sunglasses, indoors. ’E looked a real twat.’

‘Was he black, white…?’

‘White. So I come back in ’ere, an’ I gets back into bed, an’ about ten minutes later there’s this, like, ’uge bang on the stairs, an’ I finks, what the ’ell’s goin’ on, an’ I gets back up and opens the door an’ this twat in the sunglasses ’as dropped the suitcase down ’em, an’ I says, “make more racket, why don’t you?

” an’ ’e din’ say nuffing, jus’ dragged the suitcase out the door an’ slammed it.

An’ I went to look froo the window again an’ ’e got in the car and off ’e went. ’

‘When you say “the car”, you mean the same one the girl had been driving earlier?’

‘Looked like it. Yeah, I fink it must’ve been ’er drivin’, cause ’e put the suitcase on the back seat an’ got in the front passenger seat.’

‘And you’re sure both the man and the girl had been in Wright’s room?’

‘Yeah, I could ’ear ’em walking ’cross our ceiling. An’ I asked Hussein later, “did you see eiver of them people?” An’ ’e said no. An’ then, on the Monday, it was on the news Wright ’ad been killed, and I said to Daz—’

‘I come back Saturday evenin’,’ Daz informed Strike and Robin. ‘She’d suffered enough.’

‘Fuck off,’ said Mandy vaguely. ‘No, so, I says to Daz, “that was weird, those two goin’ in an’ out ’is room”.’

‘I’m only asking this for our information,’ Robin said, ‘not because we’re going to pass anything on. Did you tell the police any of this?’

Daz gave a little ‘huh’ of laughter.

‘Nah,’ said Mandy, showing her brown teeth as she grinned. ‘Jus’ said we didn’ really know ’im.’

Daz, of course, was dealing pot, and possibly other drugs; Strike and Robin had both registered the Ritalin joke, just as they’d noticed the court summons lying on top of the chest of drawers.

Robin could well imagine that Daz and Mandy’s dominant emotions on finding police in the house would have been panic and a firm disinclination for letting them enter this squalid room.

Robin asked a few more questions, but Mandy had no information to give about either the couple’s clothing or age; the woman, she said, looked young and the man older, but the hall, she reminded Robin, was quite dark.

‘Did either of you ever see inside Wright’s room?’ Robin asked.

Both shook their heads.

‘Before we go,’ said Strike, reaching into his coat pocket, ‘could I show you some pictures?’

He pulled out his phone and laid it on his knee as he sorted the pictures of Niall Semple, Tyler Powell and Rupert Fleetwood.

While he was doing this, the screen of his mobile lit up and Robin saw a text from Kim, and the words, in capitals, ‘SO SEXY’ .

Next second, Strike’s large, hairy-backed hand had covered it, and he’d returned the phone to his inner pocket, leaving Robin to feel as though as ice cubes had just dropped into her stomach.

‘Could you tell me whether any of these men could have been Wright?’ Strike said, getting up to hand the pictures to Mandy. Daz, his half joint now lit, moved to the end of the bed and sat down beside Mandy to look.

‘Woss ’e wearin’?’ was Mandy’s only comment, as she surveyed Rupert Fleetwood in his waiter’s bow tie. ‘’Andsome,’ she said appreciatively, when she turned to Niall Semple’s picture. ‘Looks like Thor.’

‘Does ’e fuck,’ sneered Daz, scratching his small, flabby belly again.

‘’Is ears,’ sniggered Mandy, when she reached Tyler Powell. ‘But,’ she said, looking at Powell, ‘it could’ve been ’im, y’know. Wiv ’is ears covered, wiv ’is ’air.’

‘Really?’ said Strike.

‘Nah,’ said Daz.

‘Could of been,’ said Mandy.

‘How sure are you?’ said Strike. ‘Out of ten?’

Mandy looked as alarmed as she’d been when asked to agree to a firm date, earlier.

‘Five,’ she said. ‘But ’e was a bit like ’im, too,’ said Mandy, now holding up Rupert Fleetwood’s picture, with an air of wanting to cover all her bases.

‘Right,’ said Strike, taking the photos back again. ‘Well, you’ve been very helpful, thanks,’ he said. ‘For the record, what did you think, when you saw Knowles’ picture?’

‘We never fort it was ’im,’ said Mandy.

‘ You did,’ Daz contradicted her. ‘You said, when it come out, “fuck, ’e was for real, ’e was on the run.”’

‘I never,’ said Mandy crossly.

‘Is there anything else you can remember about Wright?’ asked Robin, but Mandy and Daz had given all they had to give. However, even Daz seemed slightly reluctant to let the detectives go: their visit had been an unusual, mildly exciting, interlude.

Robin wanted to get out into clean air again, but she felt a pang of guilt at leaving the family where they were, especially as Mandy began talking about housing when it became clear that Strike and Robin were really leaving.

‘We’ve bin on the waiting list for a council ’ouse for a year,’ she said, walking them to the front door.

‘That’s awful,’ said Robin.

Strike reached into his pocket again and took out a further twenty pounds.

‘For your trouble,’ he said. ‘Buy Clint something for Christmas.’

‘Oh, cheers!’ said Mandy, now far happier to see them depart.

The door closed behind Strike and Robin as they walked down the steps.

‘That was nice,’ said Robin.

‘Just hope it doesn’t all go on weed. Fancy a debrief? There’s a pub up—’

‘Could we do it tomorrow?’ said Robin. ‘I’ve actually got to get going just now.’

‘Oh,’ said Strike. ‘Right.’

‘I’ve got a load of paperwork to file at the office, and I don’t want to put it off, because I’m going to view a house later,’ said Robin.

‘Right,’ said Strike again.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Strike walked slowly back towards his BMW, pulling his mobile out of his pocket as he went. Another text from Kim had followed the one he’d glimpsed inside.

Omg, sorry, that wasn’t meant for you!

He scrolled up to the previous text.

He looked SO SEXY in his dinner jacket!