1 The Cuckoo's Calling

“I always clean stair first,” she said. “Miz Landry is talking very loud at her
brudder; he shouting that she gives boyfriend too much moneys, and she very bad
with him.
“I clean number two, empty. Is clean already. Quick.”
“Were Derrick and the man from the security firm there while you were
cleaning?”
“Derrick and…?”
“The repairman? The alarm man?”
“Yes, alarm man and Derrick, yes.”
Strike could hear Robin and Wilson talking in the hall, where he had left them.
“Do you set the alarms again after you’ve cleaned?”
“Put alarm? Yes,” she said. “One nine six six, same as door, Derrick tells me.”
“He told you the number before he left with the alarm man?”
Again, it took a few tries to get the point across, and when she grasped it, she
seemed impatient.
“Yes, I already say this. One nine six six.”
“So you set the alarm after you’d finished cleaning in here?”
“Put alarm, yes.”
“And the alarm man, what did he look like?”
“Alarm man? Look?” She frowned attractively, her small nose wrinkling, and
shrugged. “I not see he’s face. But blue—all blue…” she added, and with the
hand not holding polythened dresses, she made a sweeping gesture down her
body.
“Overall?” he suggested, but she met the word with blank incomprehension.
“OK, where did you clean after that?”
“Number one,” said Lechsinka, returning to her task of hanging up the clothes,
moving around him to find the correct rails. “Clean big windows. Miz Bestigui
talking on telephone. Angry. Upset. She say she no want to lie no more.”
“She didn’t want to lie?” repeated Strike.
Lechsinka nodded, standing on tiptoes to hang up a floor-length gown.