Chapter Text
Tell Me A Story
I believe oh I believe
All things are possible
On Christmas Eve
('Tell Me a Story' by Hilary Duff)
Strike put a mug of tea down next to Robin’s computer keyboard and sat back down in his chair.
“Thanks, Strike,” Robin said. “’I’ve emailed Michelle and Sam some instructions about tomorrow evening’s surveillance. I’ve copied you in, in case you want to add anything.”
“OK, great.” Strike sipped his tea.
“It’s a shame we have to ask them to work on Christmas Eve,” Robin continued. “We’ve been watching The Forger all this time and not once has he gone anywhere near his informant. But he's definitely preparing for another theft, judging by his actions."
Their mark was an art thief who substituted valuable paintings with fakes. Several galleries he had targeted had turned to the agency to try and catch him red handed during his next theft, as the police were powerless to act. Judging by recently intercepted phone conversations, The Forger was due to meet with his inside contact in the very near future, and a party tomorrow evening was an ideal opportunity for this meeting to take place.
“Yes. This party must mean something. It's too good an opportunity to catch him at it to miss,” agreed Strike. “To be honest, I think Sam and Michelle are both quite looking forward to it. It’s not exactly going to be hard work, and I don’t think either of them have been to the St Pancras Renaissance before. And that buffet menu looks amazing…” He trailed off, a faraway look in his eyes.
Robin sniggered. “I’m surprised you didn’t leap at the opportunity yourself to be honest! Saving yourself for Lucy’s Christmas dinner?” she teased.
Strike rolled his eyes.
“Well, it was definitely a consideration,” he said, smiling.
Robin looked back at him a little more seriously. “I am glad you decided to go to Cornwall in the end. Ted will be happy to see you, and you could really use the break, right?”
“Yeah. And you must be looking forward to going up to Masham. Seeing your family, being fed by your mother.”
“Mm. It’s been a while since we’ve all been together,” she said vaguely. “Right,” she said, putting her mug back down on the desk and taking a glance at her watch. “I best get moving. What time do you have to be at Paddington tonight to catch the sleeper?”
“It leaves at quarter to twelve,” Strike replied, and sighed. She was about to leave and he wouldn’t see her now until after the Christmas holidays. Lately, even a few days without her seemed to him a waste of hours and minutes of his life.
“You’ve got a bit of time to get organised then,” Robin said. She opened her desk drawer and took out a shiny blue box tied with a festive ivory bow.
“This is for you. Don't open it until Christmas Day!” she said with a smile, as she leaned over and placed the box on Strike’s side of the desk.
“Thank you, Robin,” he said, his voice warm. Then he, in turn, reached into his desk drawer and then stood up, holding in his hand a small ivory box wrapped with a blue bow. He walked around the desk towards her and placed the gift in front of her. “Look at that! A matching pair!”
Robin smiled at him and stood too. “Thank you. Well, I’d better get going.” She hesitated a little. “Merry Christmas, Cormoran!” she said and took a step towards him. They exchanged a brief, slightly awkward hug, before Robin pulled away, leaving Strike with nothing more than the faint scent of her Narciso in the air.
“Merry Christmas, Robin,” he said softly.
He watched Robin put her present into her handbag and pull on her coat. Pausing in the doorway, she turned back to Strike.
“See you after the holidays. Give everyone in Cornwall my best wishes.”
“Will do. Drive carefully tomorrow, won’t you? Have a good one, Robin,” Strike said as he watched her disappear through the door.
He waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps on the iron stairs before sitting down and reaching for his phone.
“Hi Lucy. Have you got down to St. Mawes OK? Great. I'll give you a call on Christmas Day. Give Ted a hug from me... and the boys, of course.”