1 The Cuckoo's Calling

Then Freddie came down after me, and started trying to make me go back to our
flat, because I wasn’t dressed.
“Then Wilson came back, and told us she was dead, and told Freddie to call
the police. Freddie virtually dragged me back upstairs—I was completely
hysterical—and he dialed 999 from our sitting room. And then the police came.
And nobody believed a single word I said.”
She sipped her wine again, set down the glass and said quietly:
“If Freddie knew I was talking to you, he’d go ape.”
“But you’re quite sure, aren’t you, Tansy,” Bristow interjected, “that you
heard a man up there?”
“Yah, of course I am,” said Tansy. “I’ve just said, haven’t I? There was
definitely someone there.”
Bristow’s mobile rang.
“Excuse me,” he muttered. “Alison…yes?” he said, picking up.
Strike could hear the secretary’s deep voice, without being able to make out
the words.
“Excuse me just a moment,” Bristow said, looking harried, and he left the
table.
A look of malicious amusement appeared on both sisters’ smooth, polished
faces. They glanced at each other again; then, somewhat to his surprise, Ursula
asked Strike:
“Have you met Alison?”
“Briefly.”
“You know they’re together?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a bit pathetic, actually,” said Tansy. “She’s with John, but she’s actually
obsessed with Tony. Have you met Tony?”
“No,” said Strike.
“He’s one of the senior partners. John’s uncle, you know?”
“Yes.”
“Very attractive. He wouldn’t go for Alison in a million years. I suppose she’s
settled for John as consolation prize.”