1 The Cuckoo's Calling

“I called the Law Society about the conference in Oxford on January the
seventh,” she said. “Tony Landry attended. I pretended to be somebody he’d met
there, who’d mislaid his card.”
He did not seem particularly interested in the information he had requested,
nor did he compliment her on her initiative. The conversation petered out in
mutual dissatisfaction.
The confrontation with Lucy had exhausted Strike; he wanted to be alone. He
also suspected that Lucy might have told Robin about Leda. His sister deplored
the fact that their mother had lived and died in conditions of mild notoriety, yet in
certain moods she seemed to be seized with a paradoxical desire to discuss it all,
especially with strangers. Perhaps it was a kind of safety valve, because of the
tight lid she kept on her past with her suburban friends, or perhaps she was trying
to carry the fight into the enemy’s territory, so anxious about what they might
already know about her that she tried to forestall prurient interest before it could
start. But he had never wanted Robin to know about his mother, or about his leg,
or about Charlotte, or any of the other painful subjects which Lucy insisted on
probing whenever she came close enough.
In his tiredness, and his bad mood, Strike extended to Robin, unfairly, his
blanket irritation at women, who did not seem able just to leave a man in peace.
He thought he might take his notes to the Tottenham this afternoon, where he
would be able to sit and think without interruptions, and without being badgered
for explanations.
Robin felt the atmospheric change keenly. Taking her cue from the silently
munching Strike, she brushed herself free of crumbs, then gave him the
morning’s messages in a brisk and impersonal tone.
“John Bristow called with a mobile number for Marlene Higson. He’s also got
through to Guy Somé, who could meet you at ten o’clock on Thursday morning
at his studio in Blunkett Street, if that suits. It’s out in Chiswick, near Strand-onthe-Green.”
“Great. Thanks.”
They said very little else to each other that day. Strike spent the greater part of
the afternoon at the pub, returning only at ten to five. The awkwardness between
them persisted, and for the first time, he was quite pleased to see Robin leave.