A government minister with a name so Dickensian no good can come of it, Jasper Chiswell, commissions Cormoran to sort out two muppets who are blackmailing him. With all the freighted backstory and psychic wounds, it’s hard for the sexy protagonists, as for us, to care about the MacGuffin. You might, too, if you had lost a leg in Afghanistan. Robin, meanwhile, has PTSD after being attacked in the last series by the Shacklewell Ripper, whom Cormoran later captured. She runs a vintage clothes shop, which means that not only does she get to wear the most fabulous dresses in stock, but she also has her hair done in one of those superb 1940s styles that there’s probably a name for.
Robin and Matt remain an item, while Cormoran has an underwritten but spectacular girlfriend called Lorelei. One year later, and Robin is back working for Cormoran’s detective agency in a garret over a guitar shop, the kind of poor-but-honest joint from Detective Fiction 101 that, in days of yore, Bacall and Bogart would have filled with smoke and louche banter. Robin still wants Cormoran, and he still wants her – and not just in the office.ĭuring their honeymoon, Robin tries to tell Matt they are through, but he may have feigned illness to keep her from leaving him and, for good measure, deleted Cormoran’s lovelorn messages from Robin’s phone.
” pleads troubled private detective Cormoran Strike (Tom Burke) to Robin (Holliday Grainger), before a pause so pronounced you can almost hear the scriptwriter typing ellipses, “… to work.” She’s so moved by this that she storms off from the reception, telling Matt she needs to have a word and shoving her bridal bouquet at a guest. I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest there’s unresolved sexual tension at the heart of Strike: Lethal White (BBC One), the latest adaptation of this Robert Galbraith/JK Rowling-created crime hokum. Instead, she has just married Matt, a man so uninteresting that I know nothing about him except that his favourite party snack is manchego and chorizo on a cocktail stick. She should have hitched herself to the darkly brooding, decorously scarred army vet-turned-gumshoe who, between cigarettes, drinks too many pints and eats too many potatoes. I t’s Robin Ellacott’s wedding day and she has married the wrong man.
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