1 The Cuckoo's Calling

“Di’n’t her brother tell ya?”
“He was vague on the details.”
“Yeah, she come to our group. She wuz referred.”
“And you got talking?”
“Yeah.”
“You became friends?”
“Yeah.”
“You visited her at home? Swam in the pool?”
“Why shou’n’t I?”
“No reason. I’m only asking.”
She thawed very slightly.
“I don’t like swimming. I don’t like water over m’face. I went in the jacuzzi.
And we went shoppin’ an’ stuff.”
“Did she ever talk to you about her neighbors; the other people in her
building?”
“Them Bestiguis? A bit. She din’ like them. That woman’s a bitch,” said
Rochelle, with sudden savagery.
“What makes you say that?”
“Have you met ’er? She look at me like I wuz dirt.”
“What did Lula think of her?”
“She din’ like ’er neither, nor her husband. He’s a creep.”
“In what way?”
“He jus’ is,” said Rochelle, impatiently; but then, when Strike did not speak,
she went on. “He wuz always tryin’ ter get her downstairs when his wife wuz
out.”
“Did Lula ever go?”
“No fuckin’ chance,” said Rochelle.
“You and Lula talked to each other a lot, I suppose, did you?”
“Yeah, we did, at f—Yeah, we did.”