The Cuckoo's Calling

desire to control the encounter, his comfortable air of superiority, vanished entirely, leaving him clothed in nothing but temper and shock.
    “John hasn’t—can he really have been so…? That is strictly confidential business of the firm!”
    “It wasn’t John,” said Strike. “Mrs. Ursula May mentioned that there’s been a bit of trouble around Mr. Oates’s estate.”
    Clearly thrown, Landry spluttered, “I am very surprised—I wouldn’t have expected Ursula—Mrs. May…”
    “So will John be along at all? Or have you given him something that will keep him busy all through lunch?”
    He enjoyed watching Landry wrestle his own temper, trying to regain control of himself and the encounter.
    “John will be here shortly,” he said finally. “I hoped, as I said, to be able to lay certain facts in front of you, in private.”
    “Right, well, in that case, I’ll need these,” said Strike, removing a notebook and pen from his pocket.
    Landry looked quite as put out by the sight of these objects as Tansy had.
    “There’s no need to take notes,” he said. “What I’m about to say has no bearing—or at least, no direct bearing—on Lula’s death. That is,” he added pedantically, “it will add nothing to any theory other than that of suicide.”
    “All the same,” said Strike, “I like to have my aide-memoire.”
    Landry looked as though he would like to protest, but thought better of it.
    “Very well, then. Firstly, you should know that my nephew John was deeply affected by his adopted sister’s death.”
    “Understandable,” commented Strike, tilting the notebook so that the lawyer could not read it, and writing the words deeply affected, purely to annoy Landry.
    “Yes, naturally. And while I would never go so far as to suggest that a private detective refuse a client on the basis that they are under strain, or depressed—as I said, we all have our livings to make—in this case…”
    “You think it’s all in his head?”
    “That’s not how I’d have phrased it, but bluntly, yes. John has already suffered more sudden bereavements than many people experience in a lifetime. You probably weren’t aware that he’s already lost a brother…”
    “Yeah, I knew. Charlie was an old schoolmate of mine. That’s why John hired me.”
    Landry contemplated Strike with what seemed to be surprise and disfavor.
    “You were at Blakeyfield Prep?”
    “Briefly. Before my mother realized she couldn’t afford the fees.”
    “I see. I did not know that. Even so, perhaps you’re not fully aware…John has always been—let’s use my sister’s expression for it—highly strung. His parents had to bring in psychologists after Charlie died, you know. I don’t claim to be a mental health expert, but it seems to me that Lula’s passing has, finally, tipped him over the…”
    “Unfortunate choice of phrase, but I see what you mean,” said Strike, writing Bristow off rocker. “How exactly has John been tipped over the edge?”
    “Well, many would say that instigating this reinvestigation is irrational and pointless,” said Landry.
    Strike kept his pen poised over the notepad. For a moment, Landry’s jaws moved as though he was chewing; then he said forcefully:
    “Lula was a manic depressive who jumped out of the window after a row with her junkie boyfriend. There is no mystery. It was goddamn awful for all of us, especially her poor bloody mother, but those are the unsavory facts. I’m forced to the conclusion that John is having some kind of breakdown, and, if you don’t mind me speaking frankly…”
    “Feel free.”
    “…your collusion is perpetuating his unhealthy refusal to accept the truth.”
    “Which is that Lula killed herself?”
    “A view that is shared by the police, the pathologist and the coroner. John, for reasons that are obscure to me, is determined to prove murder. How he thinks that will make any of us feel any better, I could not tell you.”
    “Well,” said Strike, “people close to suicides often feel guilty. They think, however unreasonably, that they might have done more to help. A murder verdict would exonerate the family of any blame, wouldn’t it?”
    “None of us has anything to feel guilty about,” said Landry, his tone steely. “Lula received the very best medical care from her early teens, and every material advantage her adoptive family could give her. ‘Spoiled rotten’ might be the phrase best suited to describe my adopted niece, Mr.