1 The Cuckoo's Calling

“ ‘Bitch you ain’t all that…’ ” Ciara began to quote obligingly, but a filthy
look from Duffield silenced her.
“Did she leave you voicemail messages?”
“Yeah, a couple. ‘Evan, will you call me, please. It’s urgent. I don’t want to
say it on the phone.’ It was always fucking urgent when she wanted to find out
what I was up to. She knew I was pissed off. She was worried I might’ve called
Ellie. She had a real hang-up about Ellie, because she knew we’d fucked.”
“She said it was urgent, and that she didn’t want to say it on the phone?”
“Yeah, but that was just to try and make me call. One of her little games. She
could be fucking jealous, Lu. And pretty fucking manipulative.”
“Can you think why she’d be calling her uncle repeatedly that day as well?”
“What uncle?”
“His name’s Tony Landry; he’s another lawyer.”
“Him? She wouldn’t be calling him, she fucking hated him worse than her
brother.”
“She called him, repeatedly, over the same period that she was calling you.
Leaving more or less the same message.”
Duffield raked his unshaven chin with dirty nails, staring at Strike.
“I dunno what that was about. Her mum, maybe. Old Lady B going into
hospital or something.”
“You don’t think something might have happened that morning which she
thought was either relevant to or of interest to both you and her uncle?”
“There isn’t any subject that could interest me and her fucking uncle at the
same time,” said Duffield. “I’ve met him. Share prices and shit are all he’d be
interested in.”
“Maybe it was something about her, something personal?”
“If it was, she wouldn’t call that fucker. They didn’t like each other.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She felt about him like I feel about my fucking father. Neither of them
thought we were worth shit.”
“Did she talk to you about that?”