Lethal White


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4.Lethal White by Galbraith Robert

Matthew’s been telling you that, has he? thought Strike, imagining a few
corrective measures from which he thought Matthew might benefit. Slowly and
carefully he said:


“The fact that you’re a woman… I do worry about you more when you’re
out alone on a job than I would if you were a bloke. Hear me out,” he said
firmly, as she opened her mouth in panic. “We’ve got to be honest with each
other, or we’re screwed. Just listen, will you?
“You’ve escaped two killers using your wits and remembering your training.
I’d lay odds bloody Matthew couldn’t’ve managed that. But I don’t want a third
time, Robin, because you might not be so lucky.”
“You are telling me to go back to a desk job—”
“Can I finish?” he said sternly. “I don’t want to lose you, because you’re the
best I’ve got. Every case we’ve worked since you arrived, you’ve found
evidence I couldn’t have found and got round people I couldn’t have persuaded
to talk to me. We’re where we are today largely because of you. But the odds are
always going to be against you if you come up against a violent man and I’ve got
responsibilities here. I’m the senior partner, I’m the one you could sue—”
“You’re worried I’d sue—?”
“No, Robin,” he said harshly, “I’m worried you’ll end up fucking dead and
I’ll have to carry that on my conscience for the rest of my life.”
He took another swig of Doom Bar, then said:
“I need to know you’re mentally healthy if I’m putting you out on the street.
I want a cast-iron guarantee from you that you’re going to address these panic
attacks, because it isn’t only you who has to live with the consequences if you’re
not up to it.”
“Fine,” muttered Robin, and when Strike raised his eyebrows, she said, “I
mean it. I’ll do what it takes. I will.”
The crowd around the paddock was becoming ever denser. Evidently the
runners in the next race were about to be paraded.
“How are things with Lorelei?” Robin asked. “I like her.”
“Then I’m afraid I’ve got even more bad news for you, because you and
Matthew aren’t the only people who split up last weekend.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” said Robin, and she covered her embarrassment by
drinking more champagne.
“For someone who didn’t want that, you’re getting through it quite fast,” said
Strike, amused.
“I didn’t tell you, did I?” said Robin, remembering suddenly, as she held up
the little green bottle. “I know where I saw Blanc de Blancs before, and it wasn’t
on a bottle—but it doesn’t help us with the case.”
“Go on.”
“There’s a suite at Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons called that,” said Robin.
“Raymond Blanc, you know, the chef who started the hotel? Play on words.


Blanc de Blanc—no ‘s.’”
“Is that where you had your anniversary weekend?”
“Yeah. We weren’t in ‘Blanc de Blanc,’ though. We couldn’t afford a suite,”
said Robin. “I just remember walking past the sign. But yes… that’s where we
celebrated our paper anniversary. Paper,” she repeated, with a sigh, “and some
people make it to platinum.”
Seven dark thoroughbreds were appearing one by one in the paddock now,
jockeys in their silks perched atop them like monkeys, stable girls and lads
leading the nervy creatures, with their silken flanks and their prancing strides.
Strike and Robin were some of the few not craning their necks for a better view.
Before she had time to second-guess herself, Robin introduced the subject she
most wanted to discuss.
“Was that Charlotte I saw you talking to at the Paralympic reception?”
“Yeah,” said Strike.
He glanced at her. Robin had had occasion before now to deplore how easily
he seemed to read her thoughts.
“Charlotte had nothing to do with me and Lorelei splitting. She’s married
now.”
“So were Matthew and I,” Robin pointed out, taking another sip of
champagne. “Didn’t stop Sarah Shadlock.”
“I’m not Sarah Shadlock.”
“Obviously not. If you were that bloody annoying I wouldn’t be working for
you.”
“Maybe you could put that on the next employee satisfaction review. ‘Not as
bloody annoying as the woman who shagged my husband.’ I’ll have it framed.”
Robin laughed.
“You know, I had an idea about Blanc de Blancs myself,” said Strike. “I was
going back over Chiswell’s to-do list, trying to eliminate possibilities and
substantiate a theory.”
“What theory?” said Robin sharply, and Strike noted that even halfway down
the bottle of champagne, with her marriage in splinters and a box room in
Kilburn to look forward to, Robin’s interest in the case remained as acute as
ever. “Remember when I told you I thought there was something big, something
fundamental, behind the Chiswell business? Something we hadn’t spotted yet?”
“Yes,” said Robin, “you said it kept ‘almost showing itself.’”
“Well remembered. So, a couple of things Raphael said—”
“That’s me on my break, now,” said a nervous female voice behind them.


63
It is a purely personal matter, and there is not the
slightest necessity to go proclaiming it all over the
countryside.
Henrik Ibsen, Rosmersholm
Short, square and heavily freckled, Tegan Butcher wore her dark hair scraped
back in a bun. Even in her smart bar uniform, which comprised a gray tie and a
black shirt on which a white horse and jockey were embroidered, she had the air
of a girl more at home in muddy Wellington boots. She had brought a milky
coffee out of the bar to drink while they questioned her.
“Oh—thanks very much,” she said, when Strike went to fetch an extra chair,
clearly gratified that the famous detective would do as much for her.
“No problem,” said Strike. “This is my partner, Robin Ellacott.”
“Yeah, it was you that contacted me, wasn’t it?” said Tegan as she got up
onto the bar chair, making slightly heavy weather of the climb, being so short.
She seemed simultaneously excited and fearful.
“You haven’t got long, I know,” said Strike, “so we’ll get straight to it, if you
don’t mind, Tegan?”
“No. I mean, yeah. That’s fine. Go on.”
“How long did you work for Jasper and Kinvara Chiswell?”
“I was doing it part time for them while I was still at school, so counting
that… two and a half years, yeah.”
“How did you like working for them?”
“It was all right,” said Tegan cautiously.
“How did you find the minister?”
“He was all right,” said Tegan. She appeared to realize that this wasn’t
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