1 The Cuckoo's Calling

“And then Looly thought she had a lead on him—her real father—but that
went completely cold on her. Dead end. Yeah, it was so sad. She really thought
she’d found him and then it all just fell through her fingers.”
“What lead was this?”
“It was something about where the college was. Something her mother said.
Looly thought she’d found the place it must have been, and she went to look at
the records, or something, with this funny friend of hers called…”
“Rochelle?” suggested Strike. The Mercedes was now purring up Oxford
Street.
“Yeah, Rochelle, that’s right. Looly met her in rehab or something, poor little
thing. Looly was, like, unbelievably sweet to her. Used to take her shopping and
stuff. Anyway, they never found him, or it was the wrong place, or something. I
can’t remember.”
“Was she looking for a man called Agyeman?”
“I don’t think she ever told me the name.”
“Or Owusu?”
Ciara turned her beautiful light eyes upon him in astonishment.
“That’s Guy’s real name!”
“I know.”
“Oh my God,” Ciara giggled. “Guy’s dad never went to college. He was a bus
driver. He used to beat Guy up for sketching dresses all the time. That’s why Guy
changed his name.”
The car was slowing down. The long queue, four people wide, stretching along
the block, led to a discreet entrance that might have been to a private house. A
gaggle of dark figures was gathered around a white-pillared doorway.
“Paps,” said Kolovas-Jones, speaking for the first time. “Careful how you get
out of the car, Ciara.”
He slid out of the driver’s seat and walked around to the left-hand back door;
but the paparazzi were already running; ominous, darkly clad men, raising their
long-nosed cameras as they closed in.
Ciara and Strike emerged into flashes like gunfire; Strike’s retinas were in
sudden, dazzling whiteout; he ducked his head, his hand closed instinctively
around Ciara Porter’s slender upper arm, and he steered her ahead of him through
the black oblong that represented sanctuary, as the doors opened magically to
admit them. The queuing hordes were shouting, protesting at their easy entry,