“Because, as I’m sure you have already ascertained, on the first of the two evenings you questioned me about, when I was enjoying the company of Percy Follows, Charley was culturally engaged with his literary group. And on the second evening he was with me.”
“Who says the killing took place in the evening? OK, that second day, you gave each other alibis in the evening, and your work means you’ve got an alibi for the day. But not Charley. He’s very vague about what he was doing that day. Says he thinks he probably went to the library but nobody seems able to confirm this. Not unless you’re suddenly going to remember seeing him there?”
“Now why should I do that?”
“One good turn, mebbe. But like mutual masturbation.”
“You mean in return for the good turn he has done me by alibiing me for that evening? But that would only make sense if we were both the Wordman.”
“That’s an interesting thought.”
“And one which I doubt has just sprung ready-formed into your mind, Superintendent. A folie a deux, is that the way you’re seeing things? Oh dear, and here was I thinking it was only myself I had to remove from your hook.”
“Hook. Like in fishing. Do any fishing yourself?”
“I have done, yes. Why?”
“The Hon. Geoff had a couple of rods with him. Like he’d mebbe gone out to fish with a mate.”
“I think perhaps you are mistaking our relationship.”
“Oh aye? How about your relationship with that lass of yours. You banging her?”
“Sorry?”
“Her with the silver flash and the funny name.”
“Rye. I assumed it was Rye you were referring to. It was the participle I had difficulty with.”
“There’s these tablets you can take. I said, are you banging her? whanging her? slipping her the yard of porridge? stirring her custard with your spoon? twiddling with her twilly-flew?”
That got a reaction but it was only a faint almost complimentary smile.
“Am I having a relationship with Rye, you mean? No.”
“But you’d like to?”
“She is an attractive woman.”
“That a yes?”
“Yes.”
“Got anything going at the moment?”
“A sexual outlet, you mean? No.”
“So how do you manage?”
“Manage what?”
“Manage not to embarrass yourself every time you stand up. Man in his prime, all parts working, getting horny whenever you look at your assistant, and you and Charley have grown out of giving each other a helping hand, so what do you do? Pay for it?”
“I don’t get the drift of your questions, Mr. Dalziel.”
“We never said owt about drift, just that I could ask anything I wanted and you’d answer truthfully. You got a problem with that?”
“Only an intellectual one. I understood there’d been no sexual overtones in these killings, so I’m curious why you seem concerned to focus on my sexuality.”
“Who said there’d been no sexual overtones?”
“You’ll recall I have in fact read three of the five Dialogues so I can draw my own conclusions from them. Only one woman has been attacked and there was nothing in what I read in that episode which suggested a sex motive. In fact there is, how shall I put it, an almost sexually sterile atmosphere about the whole affair.”
“You’re sounding a bit defensive.”
“Am I? Ah, I’m with you. You’re being provocative again. If I am the Wordman and my motive is completely non-sexual, then all these questions about my sex life might trigger a reaction at being so grossly misunderstood, is that the idea?”
“Reaction like this one, you mean?”
“Not being the Wordman, I could not be so precise. But I should say the impression I got from my reading was of someone clever enough to see through your little stratagem earlier than I did, and not let himself be provoked.”
“Or clever enough to appear slightly less clever than he really is.”
“Now that would be really clever. But surely such a paragon of cleverness would never let himself fall into your clutches for close questioning anyway?”
“Put your finger in it there, Mr. Dee. Let himself fall. Seems to me the fellow I’m thinking of might actually enjoy a little chat like this, face to face with the enemy and running rings round him.”
“It would, I think, be a long run. I speak metaphorically, of course. Forgive me if I seem to have erred towards over-familiarity, but I do feel that anyone trying to run rings round you, Mr. Dalziel, had best come equipped for a marathon. But how am I doing in my puny effort to persuade you I am not your man? I must confess I feel my strength failing.”
He did a little mime of exhaustion and, as if in sympathy, all the lights went out and the hubbub of sound effects which had provided a foil to their conversation ceased.
The ensuing silence was short. The voices of Bird and Follows rose in angry unison demanding what the hell was happening, then parted into contrapuntal duet as each sought to find a way of off-loading responsibility on to the other.
Dalziel and Dee felt their way out of the dark taberna into the market place where people were striking matches or flashing torches to give a dim illumination. The door of the calidarium opened and a man wearing swimming trunks and dripping water stepped out followed by a puff of smoke.
“Enter Dagon, downstage, left,” murmured Dee.
“What the hell’s going on?” demanded the man angrily. “Something electrical blew up in there and I’m sitting over my arse in fucking water!”
He had good reason to be angry, thought Dalziel as he made his way back towards the market centre where Bird and Follows were positioned. En route he stubbed his toe against various objects which he kicked aside with great force.
“Who’s in charge?” he demanded.
For once, neither of the two men seemed eager to assume the primacy.
“Well, I’ll tell you both summat for nowt-you’d best get this sorted else I’ll make sure the local Fire and Safety Officer closes you down permanent. That bastard in the bath could have been electrocuted. And why’s it so fucking dark? Imagine what it ’ud be like down here with a few dozen people, a lot of them kids, milling around. Where’s your back-up system, for God’s sake? Get it sorted quick or I’ll start thumbing through the big book to see what I can find to charge you with. And if I can’t find owt serious enough, I’ll mebbe just bray you with the book!”
He strode away, finding the stairs and the exit back to the regions of light and air by dead reckoning. When he got there, he paused and found Dee at his side.
“You know, Mr. Dalziel,” said the librarian with a smile, “after that performance, I think if I were the Wordman, I’d put my hand up now and confess.”
“That right, Mr. Dee?” said Dalziel indifferently. “And I’ll tell you what I think, shall I? I think you’re fuller of crap than a knackered septic tank.”
Dee pursed his lips and looked pensive as if this were a statement worthy of close examination then said, “I’m sorry to hear that. Does it mean our little game of Truth, Dare, Force or Promise is over?”
“Your little game. When there’s folk lying dead, I don’t play games. I’ll see you around, Mr. Dee.”
He moved away with mastodon tread. Behind him, still as a primeval hunter, Dick Dee watched till he was out of sight.
