1 The Cuckoo's Calling

Marlene for two months before she died. Strike then listened to a diatribe about
the treatment she had received from Lula’s adoptive family, following the
model’s death.
“They di’n’t want me around, ’specially that fuckin’ uncle. ’Ave ya met ’im,
’ave ya? Fuckin’ Tony Landry? I contacted ’im abou’ the funeral an’ all I got was
threats. Oh yeah. Fuckin’ threats. I said to ’im, ‘I’m ’er mother. I gotta right to be
there.’ An’ he tole me I wasn’t ’er mother, that mad bitch was ’er mother, Lady
Bristow. Funny, I says, ’cause I remember pushing ’er outta my fanny. Sorry for
my crudity, but there you are. An’ he said I was causing distress, talkin’ to the
press. They come an’ found me,” she told Strike furiously, and she jabbed her
finger at the block of flats overlooking them. “Press come an’ foun’ me. ’Course
I tole my side o’ the fuckin’ story. ’Course I did.
“Well, I didn’t wanna scene, not at a funeral, I didn’t wanna ruin things, but I
wasn’t gonna be kept away. I went an’ sat in the back. I seen fuckin’ Rochelle
there, givin’ me looks like I wuz dirt. But nobody stopped me in the end.
“They got what they wanted, that fuckin’ family. I di’n’ get nothin’. Nothin’.
Tha’s not what Lula woulda wanted, I know that for a fact. She woulda wanted
me to ’ave something. Not,” said Marlene, with an assumption of dignity, “that I
cared abou’ the money. It weren’ about the money for me. Nuthin’ was gonna
replace my daughter, not ten, not twenny mill.
“Mind you, she’d of bin livid if she’d known I didn’t get nuthin’,” she went
on. “All that money goin’ begging; people can’t believe it when I tell ’em that I
got nuthin’. Struggling to make the rent, and me own daughter lef’ millions. But
there you are. That’s how the rich stay rich, ain’t it? They didn’ need it, but they
didn’ mind a bit more. I dunno how that Landry sleeps at night, but that’s ’is
business.”
“Did Lula ever tell you she was going to leave you anything? Did she mention
having made a will?”
Marlene seemed suddenly alert to a whiff of hope.
“Oh yeah, she said she’d look aft’r me, yeah. Yeah, she tole me she’d see me
all right. D’you think I shoulda tole someone that? Mentioned it, like?”
“I don’t think it would have made any difference, unless she made a will and
left you something in it,” said Strike.
Her face fell back into its sullen expression.
“They prob’ly fuckin’ destroyed it, them bastards. They coulda done. That’s
the sort of people they are. I wouldn’t put nuthin’ past that uncle.”