1 The Cuckoo's Calling

4
You think i wont fucking hurt you but your wrong you cunt I am comming for
you I fucking trusted you and you did this to me. I am going to pull your
fucking dick off and stuff it down you throat They will find you chocking on
your own dick when ive finish with you your own mother wont no you i am
going to fucking kill you Strike you peice of shit
“It’s a nice day out there.”
“Will you please read this? Please?”
It was Monday morning, and Strike had just returned from a smoke in the
sunny street and a chat with the girl from the record shop opposite. Robin’s hair
was loose again; she obviously had no more interviews today. This deduction,
and the effects of sunlight after rain, combined to lift Strike’s spirits. Robin,
however, looked strained, standing behind her desk and holding out a pink piece
of paper embellished with the usual kittens.
“Still at it, is he?”
Strike took the letter and read it through, grinning.
“I don’t understand why you aren’t going to the police,” said Robin. “The
things he’s saying he wants to do to you…”
“Just file it,” said Strike dismissively, tossing the letter down and rifling
through the rest of the paltry pile of mail.
“Yes, well, that’s not all,” said Robin, clearly annoyed by his attitude.
“Temporary Solutions have just called.”
“Yeah? What did they want?”
“They asked for me,” said Robin. “They obviously suspect I’m still here.”
“And what did you say?”
“I pretended to be somebody else.”
“Quick thinking. Who?”
“I said my name was Annabel.”
“When asked to come up with a fake name on the spot, people usually choose
one beginning with ‘A,’ did you know that?”
“But what if they send somebody to check?”