1 The Cuckoo's Calling

“Why?”
“Because we’d had some pretty nasty rows about the whole business. My
mother had just been diagnosed with uterine cancer when Lula went searching for
Marlene Higson. I told Lula that she could hardly have chosen a more insensitive
moment to start tracing her roots, but she—well, frankly, she had tunnel vision
where her own whims were concerned. We loved each other,” said Bristow,
running a weary hand over his face, “but the age difference got in the way. I’m
sure she tried to look for her father, though, because that was what she wanted
more than anything: to find her black roots, to find that sense of identity.”
“Was she still in contact with Marlene Higson when she died?”
“Intermittently. I had the feeling that Lula was trying to cut the connection.
Higson’s a ghastly person; shamelessly mercenary. She sold her story to anyone
who would pay, which, unfortunately, was a lot of people. My mother was
devastated by the whole business.”
“There are a couple of other things I wanted to ask you.”
The lawyer slowed down willingly.
“When you visited Lula at her flat that morning, to return her contract with
Somé, did you happen to see anyone who looked like they might have been from
a security firm? There to check the alarms?”
“Like a repairman?”
“Or an electrician. Maybe in overalls?”
When Bristow screwed up his face in thought, his rabbity teeth protruded more
than ever.
“I can’t remember…let me think…As I passed the flat on the second floor,
yes…there was a man in there fiddling with something on the wall…Would that
have been him?”
“Probably. What did he look like?”
“Well, he had his back to me. I couldn’t see.”
“Was Wilson with him?”
Bristow came to a halt on the pavement, looking a little bewildered. Three
suited men and women bustled past, some carrying files.
“I think,” he said haltingly, “I think both of them were there, with their backs
to me, when I walked back downstairs. Why do you ask? How can that matter?”
“It might not,” said Strike. “But can you remember anything at all? Hair or
skin color, maybe?”