1 The Cuckoo's Calling

“I—she hugged me, that’s all I…Yes, I think she said she’d spoken to Tony.
Or did she? Did I assume she’d spoken to him, because I thought…? But if it
wasn’t my uncle, who was it?”
Strike waited. Bristow stared at the pavement, thinking.
“But it must have been him. Lula must have seen whoever it was, and not
thought their presence remarkable, and who else could that have been, except
Tony? Who else would have had a key?”
“How many keys are there?”
“Four. Three spares.”
“That’s a lot.”
“Well, Lula and Tony and I all had one. Mum liked us all to be able to let
ourselves in and out, especially while she’s been ill.”
“And all these keys are present and accounted for, are they?”
“Yes—well, I think so. I assume Lula’s came back to my mother with all her
other things. Tony’s still got his, I’ve got mine, and my mother’s…I expect it’s
somewhere in the flat.”
“So you aren’t aware of any key that’s been lost?”
“No.”
“And none of you has ever lent your key to anyone?”
“My God, why would we do that?”
“I keep remembering how that file of photographs was removed from Lula’s
laptop while it was in your mother’s flat. If there’s another key floating
around…”
“There can’t be,” said Bristow. “This is…I…why are you saying Tony wasn’t
there? He must have been. He says he saw me through the door.”
“You went into the office on the way back from Lula’s, right?”
“Yes.”
“To get files?”
“Yes. I just ran in and grabbed them. I was quick.”
“So you were back at your mother’s house…?”
“It can’t have been later than ten.”