The Cuckoo's Calling (Cormoran Strike, #1)

by Robert Galbraith

Robin, following in the two men’s wake, noticed a subtle change in the way that Strike was talking to the security man. He was asking simple, deft questions, focusing on what Wilson had felt, touched, seen and heard at each step of his way through the flat. Under Strike’s guidance, Wilson’s body language started to change. He began to enact the way he had held the doorjambs, leaning into rooms, casting a rapid look around. When he crossed to the only bedroom, he did it at a slow-motion run, responding to the spotlight of Strike’s undivided attention; he dropped to his knees to demonstrate how he had looked under the bed, and at Strike’s prompting remembered that a dress had lain crumpled beneath his legs; he led them, face set with concentration, to the bathroom, and showed them how he had swiveled to check behind the door before sprinting (he almost mimed it, arms moving exaggeratedly as he walked) back to the front door. “And then,” said Strike, opening it and gesturing Wilson through, “you came out…” “I came out,” agreed Wilson, in his bass voice, “an’ I jabbed the lift button.” He pretended to do it, and feigned pushing open the doors in his anxiety to see what was inside. “Nothing—so I started running back down again.” “What could you hear now?” Strike asked, following him; neither of them were paying any attention to Robin, who closed the flat door behind her. “Very distant—the Bestiguis yelling—and I turn round this corner and—” Wilson stopped dead on the stair. Str...