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Chapters (57)
  1. COPYRIGHT
  2. The Cuckoo’s Calling
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. Prologue
  6. Three Months Later
  7. Part One
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. Part Two
  16. 1
  17. 2
  18. 3
  19. 4
  20. 5
  21. 6
  22. 7
  23. 8
  24. 9
  25. 10
  26. 11
  27. Part Three
  28. 1
  29. 2
  30. 3
  31. 4
  32. 5
  33. 6
  34. 7
  35. 8
  36. 9
  37. 10
  38. Part Four
  39. 1
  40. 2
  41. 3
  42. 4
  43. 5
  44. 6
  45. 7
  46. 8
  47. 9
  48. 10
  49. 11
  50. 12
  51. 13
  52. 14
  53. Part Five
  54. 1
  55. 2
  56. Epilogue
  57. Ten Days Later

‘Because that would have explicitly cut out our mother, which would have been immensely hurtful,’ said Bristow earnestly. ‘It isn’t the money – Dad left Mum very well off – it’s more the message that Lula would have been sending, cutting her out like that. Wills can cause all kinds of hurt. I’ve seen it happen countless times.’

‘Has your mother made a will?’ Strike asked.

Bristow looked startled.

‘I – yes, I believe so.’

‘May I ask who her legatees are?’

‘I haven’t seen it,’ said Bristow, a little stiffly. ‘How is this…?’

‘It’s all relevant, John. Ten million quid is a hell of a lot of money.’

Bristow seemed to be trying to decide whether or not Strike was being insensitive, or offensive. Finally he said:

‘Given that there is no other family, I would imagine that Tony and I are the main beneficiaries. Possibly one or two charities will be remembered; my mother has always been generous to charities. However, as I’m sure you’ll understand,’ pink blotches were rising again up Bristow’s thin neck, ‘I am in no hurry to find out my mother’s last wishes, given what must happen before they are acted upon.’

‘Of course not,’ said Strike.

They had reached Bristow’s office, an austere eight-storey building entered by a dark archway. Bristow stopped beside the entrance and faced Strike.

‘Do you still think I’m deluded?’ he asked, as a pair of dark-suited women swept up past them.

‘No,’ said Strike, honestly enough. ‘No, I don’t.’

Bristow’s undistinguished countenance brightened a little.

‘I’ll be in touch about Somé and Marlene Higson. Oh – and I nearly forgot. Lula’s laptop. I’ve charged it for you, but it’s password-protected. The police people found out the password, and they told my mother, but she can’t remember what it was, and I never knew. Perhaps it was in the police file?’ he added hopefully.

‘Not as far as I can remember,’ said Strike, ‘but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Where has this been since Lula died?’

‘In police custody, and since then, at my mother’s. Nearly all Lula’s things are lying around at Mum’s. She hasn’t worked herself up to making decisions about them.’

Bristow handed Strike the case and bid him farewell; then, with a small bracing movement of his shoulders, he headed up the steps and disappeared through the doors of the family firm.

7