Need in, Robin! Quickly!' he shouted on the intercom, slamming his way through the outer door as soon as Robin had buzzed it open. Up the metal steps he dragged her, his right knee now protesting violently, and she started shrieking, the screams echoing around the stairwell. Strike saw movement behind the glass door of the dour and eccentric graphic designer who worked in the office beneath his.
Just messing around!' he bellowed at the door, heaving his pursuer upstairs.
Cormoran? What's – oh my God!' said Robin, staring down from the landing. You can't – what are you playing at? Let her go!'
She's just – tried – to bloody – knife me again,' panted Strike, and with a gigantic final effort he forced his pursuer over the threshold. Lock the door!' he shouted at Robin, who had hurried in behind them and obeyed.
Strike threw the woman onto the mock-leather sofa. The hood fell back to reveal a long pale face with large brown eyes and thick dark wavy hair that fell to her shoulders. Her fingers terminated in pointed crimson nails. She looked barely twenty.
You bastard! You bastard!'
She tried to get up, but Strike was standing over her looking murderous, so she thought better of it, slumping back onto the sofa and massaging her white neck, which bore dark pink scratch marks where he had seized her.
Want to tell me why you're trying to knife me?' Strike asked.
Fuck you!'
That's original,' said Strike. Robin, call the police-'
Noooo!' howled the woman in black like a baying dog. He hurt me,' she gasped to Robin, tugging down her top with abandoned wretchedness to reveal the marks on the strong white neck. He dragged me, he pulled me-'
Robin looked to Strike, her hand on the receiver.
Why have you been following me?' Strike said, panting as he stood over her, his tone threatening.
She cowered into the squeaking cushions yet Robin, whose fingers had not left the phone, detected a note of relish in the woman's fear, a whisper of voluptuousness in the way she twisted away from him.
Last chance,' growled Strike. Why-?'
What's happening up there?' came a querulous enquiry from the landing below.
Robin's eyes met Strike's. She hurried to the door, unlocked it and slid out onto the landing while Strike stood guard over his captive, his jaw set and one fist clenched. He saw the idea of screaming for help pass behind the big dark eyes, purple-shadowed like pansies, and fade away. Shaking, she began to cry, but her teeth were bared and he thought there was more rage than misery in her tears.
All OK, Mr Crowdy,' Robin called. Just messing around. Sorry we were so loud.'
Robin returned to the office and locked the door behind her again. The woman was rigid on the sofa, tears tumbling down her face, her talon-like nails gripping the edge of the seat.
Fuck this,' Strike said. You don't want to talk – I'm calling the police.'
Apparently she believed him. He had taken barely two steps towards the phone when she sobbed:
I wanted to stop you.'
Stop me doing what?' said Strike.
Like you don't know!'
Don't play fucking games with me!' Strike shouted, bending towards her with two large fists clenched. He could feel his damaged knee only too acutely now. It was her fault he had taken the fall that had damaged the ligaments all over again.
Cormoran,' said Robin firmly, sliding between them and forcing him to take a pace backwards. Listen,' she told the girl. Listen to me. Tell him why you're doing this and maybe he won't call-'
You've gotta be fucking joking,' said Strike. Twice she's tried to stab-'
-maybe he won't call the police,' said Robin loudly, undeterred.
The woman jumped up and tried to make a break for it towards the door.
No you don't,' said Strike, hobbling fast around Robin, catching his assailant round the waist and throwing her none too gently back onto the sofa. Who are you?'
You've hurt me now!' she shouted. You've really hurt me – my ribs – I'll get you for assault, you bastard-'
I'll call you Pippa, then, shall I?' said Strike.
A shuddering gasp and a malevolent stare.
You – you – fuck-'
Yeah, yeah, fuck me,' said Strike irritably. Your name.'
Her chest was heaving under the heavy overcoat.
How will you know if I'm telling the truth, even if I tell you?' she panted, with a further show of defiance.
I'll keep you here till I've checked,' said Strike.
Kidnap!' she shouted, her voice as rough and loud as a docker's.
Citizen's arrest,' said Strike. You tried to fucking knife me. Now, for the last bloody time-'
Pippa Midgley,' she spat.
Finally. Have you got ID?'
With another mutinous obscenity she slid a hand into her pocket and drew out a bus pass, which she threw to him.
This says Phillip Midgley.'
No shit.'
Watching the implication hit Strike, Robin felt a sudden urge, in spite of the tension in the room, to laugh.
Epicoene,' said Pippa Midgley furiously. Didn't you get it? Too subtle for you, dickhead?'
Strike looked up at her. The Adam's apple on her scratched, marked throat was still prominent. She had buried her hands in her pockets again.
I'll be Pippa on all my documents next year,' she said.
Pippa,' Strike repeated. You're the author of "I'll turn the handle on the fucking rack for you", are you?'
Oh,' said Robin, on a long drawn-out sigh of comprehension.
Oooooh, you're so clever, Mr Butch,' said Pippa in spiteful imitation.
D'you know Kathryn Kent personally, or are you just cyber-friends?'
Why? Is knowing Kath Kent a crime now?'
How did you know Owen Quine?'
I don't want to talk about that bastard,' she said, her chest heaving. What he's done to me … what he's done … pretending … he lied … lying fucking bastard … '
Fresh tears splattered down her cheeks and she dissolved into hysterics. Her scarlet-tipped hands clawed at her hair, her feet drummed on the floor, she rocked backwards and forwards, wailing. Strike watched her with distaste and after thirty seconds said:
Will you shut the fuck-'
But Robin quelled him with a glance, tore a handful of tissues out of the box on her desk and pushed them into Pippa's hand.
T-t-ta-'
Would you like a tea or coffee, Pippa?' asked Robin kindly.
Co … fee … pl … '
She's just tried to bloody knife me, Robin!'
Well, she didn't manage it, did she?' commented Robin, busy with the kettle.
Ineptitude,' said Strike incredulously, is no fucking defence under the law!'
He rounded on Pippa again, who had followed this exchange with her mouth agape.
Why have you been following me? What are you trying to stop me doing? And I'm warning you – just because Robin here's buying the sob stuff-'
You're working for her!' yelled Pippa. That twisted bitch, his widow! She's got his money now, hasn't she – we know what you've been hired to do, we're not fucking stupid!'
Who's "we"?' demanded Strike, but Pippa's dark eyes slid again towards the door. I swear to God,' said Strike, whose much-tried knee was now throbbing in a way that made him want to grind his teeth, if you go for that door one more fucking time I'm calling the police and I'll testify and be glad to watch you go down for attempted murder. And it won't be fun for you inside, Pippa,' he added. Not pre-op.'
Cormoran!' said Robin sharply.
Stating facts,' said Strike.
Pippa had shrunk back onto the sofa and was staring at Strike in unfeigned terror.
Coffee,' said Robin firmly, emerging from behind the desk and pressing the mug into one of the long-taloned hands. Just tell him what all this is about, for God's sake, Pippa. Tell him.'
Unstable and aggressive though Pippa seemed, Robin could not help pitying the girl, who appeared to have given almost no thought to the possible consequences of lunging at a private detective with a blade. Robin could only assume that she possessed in extreme form the trait that afflicted her own younger brother Martin, who was notorious in their family for the lack of foresight and love of danger that had resulted in more trips to casualty than the rest of his siblings combined.
We know she hired you to frame us,' croaked Pippa.
Who,' growled Strike, is "she" and who is "us"?'
Leonora Quine!' said Pippa. We know what she's like and we know what she's capable of! She hates us, me and Kath, she'd do anything to get us. She murdered Owen and she's trying to pin it on us! You can look like that all you want!' she shouted at Strike, whose heavy eyebrows had risen halfway to his thick hairline. She's a crazy bitch, she's jealous as hell – she couldn't stand him seeing us and now she's got you poking around trying to get stuff to use against us!'
I don't know whether you believe this paranoid bollocks-'
We know what's going on!' shouted Pippa.
Shut up. Nobody except the killer knew Quine was dead when you started stalking me. You followed me the day I found the body and I know you were following Leonora for a week before that. Why?' And when she did not answer, he repeated: Last chance: why did you follow me from Leonora's?'
I thought you might lead me to where he was,' said Pippa.
Why did you want to know where he was?'
So I could fucking kill him!' yelled Pippa, and Robin was confirmed in her impression that Pippa shared Martin's almost total lack of self-preservation.
And why did you want to kill him?' asked Strike, as though she had said nothing out of the ordinary.
Because of what he did to us in that horrible fucking book! You know – you've read it – Epicoene – that bastard, that bastard-'