1 The Cuckoo's Calling

without leaving me a note. I keep waiting for a note to turn up, y’know, and then
I’ll know it’s real. It don’t feel real. I can’t even remember the funeral. I was out
of my fucking head. I took so much stuff I couldn’t fucking walk. I think, if I
could just remember the funeral, it’d be easier to get my head round.”
He jammed his cigarette between his lips and began drumming with his fingers
on the edge of the glass table. After a while, apparently discomforted by Strike’s
silent observation, he demanded:
“Ask me something, then. Who’s hired you, anyway?”
“Lula’s brother John.”
Duffield stopped drumming.
“That money-grabbing, poker-arsed wanker?”
“Money-grabbing?”
“He was fucking obsessed with how she spent her fucking money, like it was
any of his fucking business. Rich people always think everyone else is a fucking
freeloader, have you noticed that? Her whole frigging family thought I was golddigging,
and after a bit,” he raised a finger to his temple and made a boring
motion, “it went in, it planted doubts, y’know?”
He snatched one of the Zippos from the table and began flicking at it, trying to
make it ignite. Strike watched tiny blue sparks erupt and die as Duffield talked.
“I expect he thought she’d be better off with some rich fucking accountant,
like him.”
“He’s a lawyer.”
“Whatever. What’s the difference, it’s all about helping rich people keep their
mitts on as much money as they can, innit? He’s got his fucking trust fund from
Daddy, what skin is it off his nose what his sister did with her own money?”
“What was it that he objected to her buying, specifically?”
“Shit for me. The whole fucking family was the same; they didn’t mind if she
chucked it their way, keep it in the fucking family, that was OK. Lu knew they
were a mercenary load of fuckers, but, like I say, it still left its fucking mark.
Planted ideas in her head.”
He threw the dead Zippo back on to the table, drew his knees up to his chest
and glared at Strike with his disconcerting turquoise eyes.
“So he still thinks I did it, does he? Your client?”
“No, I don’t think he does,” said Strike.