we have a serial killer on our hands, the wider we cast our net in search of expert assistance, and the sooner we set about casting it, the better. I realize you have had what is in analytical terms a ludicrously short time in which to study the Wordman documents, but what first impressions may lack in depth they can make up in freshness, Dr. Pottle.”
“Let me first apologize to my esteemed colleague, Dr. Urquhart, in case anything I say should seem to trespass on his mystery, for of course my only route to understanding the writer of these pieces is via the words the writer uses.”
“Dinna fash yersel’, Pozzo,” said the Scot. “I’ll not be backward in dishing out the psychobabble.”
“Thank you. First Dialogue. The very use of the word Dialogue is significant. A dialogue is an exchange of ideas and information between two or more people. For these to be true dialogues our Wordman-I use the term for convenience-must be listening as well as speaking. And I think we can see that he is doing this in two ways. Firstly there are gaps in the text, blank lines, and it is not difficult to fill these in with unrecorded replies to the Wordman’s comments or questions. For the most part these would be conversational trivia rather than matter of deep import such as you might expect to find in a dialogue proper. For example, in this first one, between How’re you doing? and Me, I’m fine, I think, we might interpolate OK. How about yourself? Then between Me, I’m fine I think and It’s hard to tell sometimes, we might put What do you mean, ‘think’? It should be noted that the tone here, as throughout the Dialogues in these small exchanges, is friendly and familiar, as between people who are very close and on a fairly equal footing.”
“I think we just about got there by ourselves,” said Pascoe apologetically, aware of steatopygous squeakings from Dalziel’s chair. “You said there were two forms of dialogue…”
“Indeed. The other is the more formal and mysterious one in which the Wordman believes he is receiving advice, aid, and instruction from some otherworldly power who may or may not be or may be in part only the familiar communicant of the first form. Finally of course the Wordman is indulging in a dialogue with us. That is, with you the investigators of these crimes, with Mr. Urquhart and myself as your associates, and with the world at large who form as it were his wider audience.”
“Can I say something here?” said Urquhart. “You may have missed it, Pozzo, and me I only picked it up through a reference in a dictionary, but then I got a friend to check it out…”
“Friend?” said Pascoe, again pre-empting the Fat Man. “You haven’t been showing the Dialogues to anyone unauthorized, I hope.”
“Don’t get your Y-fronts in a tangle,” said Urquhart. “It was just a wee hairie in the Eng. Lit. Department that I bang from time to time and she disna ken any more than she needs to ken. What she told me was that there’s this thing in literature called a ‘Dialogue of the Dead.’ Started way back with Lucian…”
“That’d be Lord Lucian?” said Dalziel.
“Ha ha. Second-century Syrian rhetorician who wrote in Greek. There was a big revival of interest in England in the eighteenth century, the Augustans and what followed, all that classical crap. Biggest success was Lord Lyttelton’s Dialogues of the Dead in 1760. Twenty-eight dialogues including three by some bluestocking called Mrs. Montagu-the best three my wee friend assures me, but she may be partial. There were a few more written right through the nineteenth century but the form had pretty well died the death before Queen Vicky snuffed it.”
“And what did this form consist of?” enquired Pascoe.
“Debates in the Nether Regions between the shades of real historical characters and imagined characters, sometimes with supernatural beings from mythology holding the ring. I checked a few out. There’s one with Mercury and an English Duellist and a North-American Savage, another with Sir Thomas More and the Vicar of Bray. Purpose usually, though not always, satirical. Written out like drama, name of character then what he or she says, but no stage directions or settings described. Meant to be read, not performed.”
“But we don’t get names given here,” said Pascoe, looking down at his copy of the Dialogues.
“You wouldn’t expect them, would you? That would give the game away from the start. May be a blind alley, but seems to me the Wordman’s dialogue is with someone dead and he’s certainly bent on increasing the population of the underworld. Seemed worth a mention. Anyway, in your business, leave no stone unturned if you want to see the wriggly wee insects run, eh?”
“We’re much obliged, Doctor,” murmured Pascoe, who’d been making notes.
“Oh God,” groaned Dalziel. “Not past the first word yet, and already me brain’s hurting.”
“Perhaps if we could move on,” said Pascoe, glancing at his watch. “I know your time is precious, gentlemen.”
“Very well,” said Pottle, lighting another cigarette from the butt-end in his hand. “After the title, the illustration-or should I say illumination? I gather that you have already received expert advice about the stylistic source…”
“In a manner of speaking,” said Pascoe carefully. “DC Bowler, perhaps you would like to fill us in?”
Taken by surprise, Hat swallowed nervously before replying, “Well, Mr. Dee at the library said he thought it was based on some medieval Celtic script. He showed me something that was a bit like it in, I think it was some eighth-century Irish gospel…”
He was aware that the Fat Man’s eyes had closed and his mouth opened in a hippopotamic yawn, and he cursed Pascoe for making his first contribution to the Great Consult something which was almost bound to get up those huge nostrils. But now the DCI, perhaps feeling guilty, took up the running and went on, “… and it would seem that the design represents the In P of the opening line of St. John’s Gospel: In principio erat verbum…”
“In the beginning was the word and the word was with God and the word was God,” intoned Dalziel, opening his eyes. “Yeah yeah, we all did Bible Studies, except maybe young Bowler here who probably had to learn the Kama Sutra or something. Doctor Pottle, can we mebbe just cut to a few conclusions and save all the fancy stuff for an article?”
“The first thing that struck me about the drawing was the way all the continuation letters were piled up together. I was reminded of a virus which once got into the hospital computer system and sent all the letters you typed tumbling to the foot of the screen. I wondered if perhaps this meant our Wordman felt of himself that he had some kind of virus affecting his brain.”
“You mean he knows he’s off his chump?” said Dalziel. “Great!”
“It fits in with other indications that he is not yet completely at ease with the idea of killing people,” continued Pottle serenely. “The drawing is only one of many attempts to fit his behaviour into a quasi-religious context which has two main functions. The first is, of course, justification. It is God, or his agent in the Other World, who points the finger in some sequential way still to be fathomed. The Wordman is to some extent an instrument of divine purpose, or of divine requirement if the Wordman is to achieve some purpose of his own, which is not altogether clear. Yet despite this pretence to supernatural necessity, the Wordman’s unease shows in the need he feels to suggest that the victims are better off dead, either for their own sakes or for the sake of society at large, or sometimes both. You have probably noticed that the drowned man in the water under the bridge also resembles a figure crucified, like St. Andrew, on an X-shaped cross.”
“Know how he felt,” muttered Andy Dalziel.
Pascoe gave him a glower and urged, “You said the religious context had two functions, Doctor. Justification and…?”
“Yes. And invulnerability. This suspension of time thing. It seems to be literal, not a metaphor. God or his agent is masterminding events and, being all-powerful, he is not about to let his instrument get caught. Herein perhaps lies your best hope of catching the writer. The risks taken in respect of Councillor Steel’s murder were enormous and could only be countenanced by someone who felt completely invulnerable. The longer this goes on, the greater the risks taken are likely to be.”
“You’re saying that with a bit of luck, and if he goes on long enough, we’ll catch him in the act?” said the Fat Man incredulously. “If that’s the best you can do, don’t it make all this palaver a bit pointless, Doctor?”
The degree of scorn Dalziel could infuse into a form of address could probably provide a linguist with material for a thesis, thought Pascoe.
“Maybe I can give a wee bit of practical help here,” said Urquhart. “See this bit of the illumination here…”
He pointed to the bottom of the twin stems of the I.
“Aye, the cows,” said Dalziel.
Urquhart laughed and said, “They’d need to be Highland cattle with horns like these. No, not cows. Oxen, I
