anything that letter or telephone conversation would not have told you?' 'Possibly not. But what I have learned is absolutely clear, which it might not otherwise have been.'
'And that is?'
'That I can be of help, that she is delighted to have me here and that my presence can be of great comfort to her during these very trying times. I would like to have your permission to extend my stay, Mr Connon.' 'Do I have a choice?' asked Connon. 'If I do, which I doubt where Jenny's concerned, then I unhesitatingly offer you my hospitality for as long as you care to accept it. I also noticed Jenny's reaction to your arrival. But make sure your presence remains a comfort to her and doesn't become a complication.' 'Is this a private party or can anyone join?' said Jenny's voice from the door. She was wearing an old dressing-gown, her hair was uncombed, her nose shiny. And her eyes too shone as she looked at the two men sitting there. Antony rose to his feet and stood gazing intensely at her.
Connon sighed.
'If you're going to stay with us, Antony, you'll have to learn that in this household we don't pay all that much attention to the courtesies. You'll have to break yourself of the habit of bobbing up and down every time my daughter appears, especially when she looks like this.' 'It is not a matter of habit this time,' replied Antony. 'It is a small tribute I offer to beauty.'
'Jesus wept!' said Connon, laughing loud.
Jenny sat down, laughing even louder and eventually Antony, a pleasant glow of satisfaction in his mind, sat down laughing also. In the hall the phone rang. Jenny, nearest the door, turned in her chair, but Connon was up and out in one smooth movement. As soon as he went through the door, Antony leaned over and kissed Jenny lightly on the lips. She smiled happily at him and took his hand. They sat looking at each other without speaking. Connon's voice came drifting in from the hall.
'Hello? Connon speaking.'
A long pause. The youngsters kissed again.
'Is that all you know? But why?' Jenny shook her head in mock severity as Antony leaned nearer. 'Yes, of course we must. What? I don't know, do I? You'll have to think that out yourself.'
A very short pause.
'All right. Later. Goodbye.'
The phone clicked back on to its rest.
Jenny and Antony moved a few inches further apart, then giggled at each other because of the involuntary movement. Connon came back into the room. One look at his face and Jenny stopped giggling. 'Daddy,' she said. 'What's the matter? What's happened?' 'I'm not sure,' said Connon slowly. 'It may be nothing, but the police have picked up Arthur Evans. They've got him down at the station for questioning. About… about last Saturday night.' 'Listen, Arthur,' said Dalziel in his heartiest voice. 'We've known each other a long time. All I want's a bit of cooperation. Anything you tell me will be in strict confidence if it's got nothing to do with our enquiries. As I'm sure it hasn't. I give you my word as a public official, and a friend. I can't say fairer.' 'Confidence?' said Evans. 'You talk of confidence, do you, with laughing boy sitting here with his pencil and paper at the ready? What's he doing, then? Sketching the bloody view, is it?' Dalziel sighed and looked over at Pascoe who was sitting quietly in the furthermost corner of the room. The sergeant raised his eyebrows interrogatively. Dalziel shook his head fractionally.
Tm sorry, Arthur. Sergeant Pascoe has to stay. I have to have someone here, you see. It's the regulations. It's in your interest, you see. It's for your protection.' You bloody old hypocrite, thought Pascoe. You'd lie to your own grandmother. Suddenly it's regimental Dalziel, the slave of the rule-book. Poor old Bruiser! If he didn't want me here, I'd be out like a rocket. Though why he does want me here's a bit of a mystery. Why not try the old pals' act, just the two of us together, it'll be off the record? Why not? I'll tell you why not, you halfwit. Because he knows it wouldn't work, that's why not. These two are about as near to being old pals as Judas Iscariot and the Pope. Just look at them. Perhaps Bruiser joined the queue knocking at Gwen Evans's back door at some time. He's not promising poor old Arthur silence if he co-operates. He's threatening him with lots of noise if he doesn't! 'If it wasn't Sergeant Pascoe here, Arthur,' Dalziel continued, 'it would have to be someone else. In fact technically I ought to have someone else here as well, but I thought that as the sergeant knew the facts of the enquiry (in fact he was instrumental in getting the information we'd like to question you about), it would keep it in the family so to speak if he acted as my amanuensis, that's the word, isn't it, Sergeant Pascoe?' Pascoe smiled bleakly at the appeal to his erudition. Dalziel nodded enthusiastically as if he had received encouragement. 'Of course, you're entitled to have your own legal representative present, if you wish to be really formal about things. Would you like that? It's Stubby Barnet, isn't it? It'd be nice to see Stubby again, haven't seen him since last year's Club dinner.' Stubby Barnet! thought Pascoe. Nice to see Stubby again; Good God, the power structure in a town this size was more formidable than politics in New York City. Come on, Arthur, you can't complain, boyo! You're being offered all the protection of the law. We'll keep the crowds back as you wash your dirty linen in public. 'Listen, Dalziel,' said Evans, 'I don't know what you're getting at, see? This is Saturday morning and I've got things to do. The only reason I came in here was that I was on my way into town when your boys called and they said it would be quicker if I came in to see you. So let's make it quick, shan we?' 'With pleasure, Arthur. Then I'll just ask again the only question you've allowed me to put so far. Would you tell me where you went when you left the Rugby Club about eight-fifteen last Saturday evening?'
This is to do with Mary Connon, is it?'
'Just answer the question, please, Arthur.' 'I went home, then, that's where I bloody well went. Can I go now?'
'Why did you go home?'
'It's where I live, see? That's what home means, don't you remember, Superintendent Dalziel? Ask your bloody amanuensis.'
Dalziel was unperturbed by the outburst.
'But why did you leave the Club? You came back later, didn't you? Oh come on, Arthur! You're among friends. We have information. It's no use being coy, there's others who aren't.' 'I bet there bloody well is. Old gossiping women dressed up like men. I know them.'
'Sergeant. What is our information again, please?'
'Sir!' said Pascoe, sitting to attention. 'Our information is that Mr Evans left the Club in order to go and see what was delaying the arrival of his wife whom he had been expecting for some time.'
'I see. Is that true, Mr Evans?'
'Yes. Anything wrong with that?'
'Not in the least. Did you try the telephone?'
'Yes.'
'But without success.'
Evans grunted. I can't put that down in words, can I? said Pascoe to himself. If I did it would probably read, if someone's rogering your wife on the hearth rug, you can't expect her to answer the phone.
Dalziel was looking happier now.
'You see, it's really all straightforward, isn't it? What happened then?'
'When?'
'When you got home.'
'Nothing. I mean, she wasn't there.'
Dalziel pushed his right index finger through the small hairs which fringed the cavity of his ear, and wriggled it sensuously about.
'But you knew she wasn't there.'
'What?' 'You knew she wasn't there. Your friends Dick and Joy Hardy had already called as arranged and had got no reply. They told you when you asked them at the Club. And you had telephoned yourself without success. So you knew she wasn't there.' He knew she wasn't answering, thought Pascoe. That's what you knew, wasn't it, Arthur?
'I had to be sure.'
'In case she'd had an accident or something?' suggested Dalziel sympathetically. 'Yes,' replied Evans, hardly bothering to sound convincing.
'Relieved?'
