Page 310 of The Hallmarked Man

‘Naturally, but our brave boys in blue aren’t overly interested inrecovering property for the likes of me. “You’re insured, aren’t you?” is the burden of their song. You can tell Decima, though, that as soon as I get wind of where the jellyfish is, I’ll prod the police in the right direction. I’m sure by now he’s realised the thing’s impossible to sell. No reputable dealer’s going to touch it, not without proof of legal ownership. It’s a particularly fine and distinctive example of its type and, unfortunately for the jellyfish, it features in photographs of the Dostoevsky room.’ Longcaster took another pull on his cigar, then said, ‘Didja know I won it from his father?’

‘I did, yes,’ said Robin.

‘Peter and I were at Eton together. ’S’a matter of fact, that nef wasn’t Peter’s to gamble with in the first place, it was his wife’s. She was bloody livid when she found out what he’d done. Peter didn’t have a pot to piss in before he married Veronica. The jellyfish is just like him, hopin’ to marry money.’

Longcaster pointed a long finger at a photograph on the wall, which featured two men, one recognisable as a younger Longcaster, the other having a thin, raffish face, and three women. One of the women, who also looked around forty, wore glasses and looked rather stern. The other two were younger, one dark, one fair, and both very beautiful. All five were posing, the women in ballgowns, the men dinner jackets, in front of a gigantic castle over which a yellow flag bearing a black lion flew.

‘That’s Peter and Veronica, there,’ said Longcaster. ‘The woman in glasses is Anjelica, Peter’s sister – the jellyfish’s aunt. She doesn’t like me, as I’m sure she’ll’ve told you, if you’ve spoken to her.’ Longcaster stared dispassionately at the picture for a few more seconds, before saying, ‘I’m not sure, but IthinkI might’ve screwed her that weekend. And the dark woman there’s an ex-girlfriend of mine. I was resisting her broad hints I should make an honest woman of her at the time, but I was enjoying being between wives.’

‘Is that the Fleetwoods’ home?’ said Robin, staring up at the medieval castle in the background.

‘’Course it’s bloody not, that’s Gravensteen,’ snorted Longcaster.

He drained his glass, then leaned over and pressed the brass bell again. The waiter opened the door within seconds.

‘’Nother Martini. Nothing for her, she’s dawdlin’.’

When the door had closed again, Robin said,

‘I’ve been told by someone who saw the relationship up close thatRupert genuinely loved Decima. That person didn’t believe Rupert was with her for her mon—’

‘Bullcrap,’ barked Longcaster. ‘Nobody’s going to attach themselves to Decima for her beauty or her charm. The pair of ’em looked like Tweedledum and Tweedledee together – just imagine the moon-faced children. What?’ he said, in response, Robin knew, to the expression on her own face.

‘Just thinking, what horrible things to say about your own daughter.’

‘I reserve the right to speak as I please about my children,’ said Longcaster harshly. ‘Decima’s spiritual home’s a semi-detached in Basingstoke. She likes second-rate things and second-rate people. Now she’s made a bloody fool of herself again and doesn’t want to admit it, which is why she’s hired you.’

‘Rupert’s your godson, isn’t he?’ said Robin.

‘What’s that got to do with anything? You think I should coddle him, because I once knew his parents? The world’s full of godsons. What I need are decent bloody bar staff. I did the jellyfish a favour, givin’ him a job, and all I got in return was an attempt to drain m’ daughter’s bank accounts, and brazen bloody theft. If he thinks he’s hard done by now, it’s nothing compared to what’ll happen when I bloody well catch up with him.’

‘Did you know Rupert gatecrashed Sacha Legard’s birthday party after stealing your nef?’ asked Robin. ‘That he argued with Valentine, and said something to Cosima that made her cry?’

She was certain, by the very slight rise of Longcaster’s eyebrows, that he hadn’t known this. Removing the cigar from his mouth, he said,

‘I think it highly unlikely the jellyfish would have sought out members of my family, after stealing my property.’

‘Well, he did,’ said Robin. ‘It was right before he disappeared. There were a lot of witnesses to the argument. That’s what I wanted to talk to your daughter about.’

The waiter returned with Longcaster’s second martini. Just as he reached the door, Longcaster said,

‘Oliver, tell Mimi to come here.’

‘Yes, Mr Longcaster, sir.’

Hoping ‘Mimi’ meant Cosima, Robin took another sip of her cocktail, which she had to admit was as welcome as the fire, after standing for two hours in the rain.

‘You wouldn’t be bad-looking if you made an effort,’ Longcaster said, raking Robin up and down with his bored eyes again. ‘Did something better with your hair. Scraping it back like that’s doing you no favours.’

‘D’you tell everyone how they should look and dress, Mr Longcaster?’

‘Only people who need it,’ said Longcaster.

He seemed genuinely frustrated, almost pained, that Robin wasn’t better groomed and attired. She remembered Albie’s description of the man as one who wanted to live in a completely controlled world, that he thought it a sin to be badly dressed or overweight, and she thought of Decima, and what it would mean to grow up with this man as a father.

Cosima now entered the room. Neglecting to thank the waiter who’d held open the door for her, she sat down in a chair between Robin and her father, facing the fire. Robin could tell the girl was extremely ill at ease, though pretending not to be so. She threw back her long blonde hair, smoothed down the skirt of her short red dress, crossed her legs, smiled at her father and said,

‘Hi, Daddy.’