1 The Cuckoo's Calling

users. Strike had known every kind of substance-abuser, both inside the army and
out. The glorification of Duffield’s habit by the media disgusted him. There was
no glamour in heroin. Strike’s mother had died on a filthy mattress in the corner
of the room, and nobody had realized she was dead for six hours.
He got up, crossed the room and wrenched open the dark, rain-spattered
window, so that the thud of the bass from the 12 Bar Café became louder than
ever. Still smoking, he looked out at Charing Cross Road, glittering with car
lights and puddles, where Friday-night revelers were striding and lurching past
the end of Denmark Street, umbrellas wobbling, laughter ringing above the
traffic. When, Strike wondered, would he next enjoy a pint on a Friday with
friends? The notion seemed to belong to a different universe, a life left behind.
The strange limbo in which he was living, with Robin his only real human
contact, could not last, but he was still not ready to resume a proper social life.
He had lost the army, and Charlotte and half a leg; he felt a need to become
thoroughly accustomed to the man he had become, before he felt ready to expose
himself to other people’s surprise and pity. The bright orange cigarette stub flew
down into the dark street and was extinguished in the watery gutter; Strike
pushed down the window, returned to his desk and pulled the file firmly back
towards him.
Derrick Wilson’s statement told him nothing he did not already know. There
was no mention in the file of Kieran Kolovas-Jones, or of his mysterious blue
piece of paper. Strike turned next, with some interest, to the statements of the two
women with whom Lula had spent her final afternoon, Ciara Porter and Bryony
Radford.
The makeup artist remembered Lula as cheerful and excited about Deeby
Macc’s imminent arrival. Porter, however, stated that Landry “had not been
herself,” that she had seemed “low and anxious,” and had refused to discuss what
was upsetting her. Porter’s statement added an intriguing detail that nobody had
yet told Strike. The model asserted that Landry had made specific mention, that
afternoon, of an intention to leave “everything” to her brother. No context was
given; but the impression left was of a girl in a clearly morbid frame of mind.
Strike wondered why his client had not mentioned that his sister had declared
her intention of leaving him everything. Of course, Bristow already had a trust
fund. Perhaps the possible acquisition of further vast sums of money did not
seem as noteworthy to him as it would to Strike, who had never inherited a
penny.
Yawning, Strike lit another cigarette to keep himself awake, and began to read
the statement of Lula’s mother. By Lady Yvette Bristow’s own account, she had
been drowsy and unwell in the aftermath of her operation; but she insisted that
her daughter had been “perfectly happy” when she came to visit that morning,
and had evinced nothing but concern for her mother’s condition and prospects of