1 The Cuckoo's Calling

“I—I’m sorry,” Bristow said, sounding thoroughly shaken. “I’m just—just
shocked. Perhaps the police removed this file?”
“When did you get the laptop back from them?”
“Oh…sometime in February, I suppose, early February.”
“This file was removed on March the seventeenth.”
“But—but this just doesn’t make sense. Nobody knew the password.”
“Well, evidently somebody did. You said the police told your mother what it
was.”
“My mother certainly wouldn’t have removed—”
“I’m not suggesting she did. Is there any chance she could have left the laptop
open, and running? Or that she gave somebody else the password?”
He thought that Bristow must be in his office. He could hear faint voices in the
background, and, distantly, a woman laughing.
“I suppose that’s possible,” said Bristow slowly. “But who would have
removed photographs? Unless…but God, that’s horrible…”
“What is?”
“You don’t think one of the nurses could have taken the pictures? To sell to a
newspaper? But that’s a dreadful thought…a nurse…”
“All the expert knows is that they were deleted; there’s no evidence that they
were copied and stolen. But as you say—anything’s possible.”
“But who else—I mean, naturally I hate to think it could be a nurse, but who
else could it be? The laptop’s been at my mother’s ever since the police gave it
back.”
“John, are you aware of every visitor your mother’s had in the last three
months?”
“I think so. I mean, obviously, I can’t be sure…”
“No. Well, there’s the difficulty.”
“But why—why would anyone do this?”
“I can think of a few reasons. It would be a big help if you could ask your
mother about this, though, John. Whether she had the laptop running in mid-
March. Whether any of her visitors expressed an interest in it.”