1 The Cuckoo's Calling

The thought of Alison’s doomed infatuation seemed to afford the sisters great
satisfaction.
“This is all common gossip at the office, is it?” asked Strike.
“Oh, yah,” said Ursula, with relish. “Cyprian says she’s absolutely
embarrassing. Like a puppy dog around Tony.”
Her antipathy towards Strike seemed to have evaporated. He was not
surprised; he had met the phenomenon many times. People liked to talk; there
were very few exceptions; the question was how you made them do it. Some, and
Ursula was evidently one of them, were amenable to alcohol; others liked a
spotlight; and then there were those who merely needed proximity to another
conscious human being. A subsection of humanity would become loquacious
only on one favorite subject: it might be their own innocence, or somebody else’s
guilt; it might be their collection of pre-war biscuit tins; or it might, as in the case
of Ursula May, be the hopeless passion of a plain secretary.
Ursula was watching Bristow through the window; he was standing on the
pavement, talking hard into his mobile as he paced up and down. Her tongue
properly loosened now, she said:
“I bet I know what that’s about. Conway Oates’s executors are making a fuss
about how the firm handled his affairs. He was the American financier, you
know? Cyprian and Tony are in a real bait about it, making John fly around
trying to smooth things over. John always gets the shitty end of the stick.”
Her tone was more scathing than sympathetic.
Bristow returned to the table, looking flustered.
“Sorry, sorry, Alison just wanted to give me some messages,” he said.
The waiter came to collect their plates. Strike was the only one who had
cleared his. When the waiter was out of earshot, Strike said:
“Tansy, the police disregarded your evidence because they didn’t think you
could have heard what you claimed to have heard.”
“Well they were wrong, weren’t they?” she snapped, her good humor gone in
a trice. “I did hear it.”
“Through a closed window?”
“It was open,” she said, meeting none of her companions’ eyes. “It was stuffy,
I opened one of the windows on the way to get water.”
Strike was sure that pressing her on the point would only lead to her refusing
to answer any other questions.