'What? Someone cut off an arm and hoyed it into the mere?' said Dalziel. 'Still means there's the rest of him somewhere, or some bugger caused a bit of comment by going out for a stroll with a full set of arms and coming back one short.'
'Some very secretive folk in Mid-Yorkshire, sir. Any road, chances are it's nowt to do with our case.'
'Oh, aye? So what are you suggesting, Wieldy? Chuck it back and if any bugger asks, tell 'em it got away? Listen, even if it's not our case, it's certainly another of our cases. Bag this lot and get them down to the lab, Tom. And keep looking.'
The Fat Man turned and headed toward his Range Rover, Wield following.
'There's been a few suicides up here, sir,' he said.
'Aye, I think of them every time I mash my tea, Wieldy,' said Dalziel. 'But we usually trawl them out, don't we?'
'The ones we know about,' agreed the sergeant. 'But anyone could come up here and take a walk into the middle with a pocketful of stones and end up a statistic on our missing persons list.'
'I may have to give up tea,' said Dalziel. 'You know, I never liked this water from the first time I saw it. Something about Dender Mere always gave me the creeps. Here, that sounds like George Headingley laying an egg on the car radio. What's woken him up, I wonder?'
'Soon find out,' said Wield, picking up the mike and responding.
'Is he there, Wieldy?' demanded Headingley. 'Tell him we've just got a message in from WOULDC Novello. She says she's sitting in the cafeteria of the Orecliff Services cafeteria on the coast road watching Geordie Turnbull having a chat with Benny Lightfoot. You see what this means? They could be in it together! Two of them, not just the one. That 'ud explain a hell of a lot, wouldn't it?'
Dalziel reached over and took the mike.
He said, 'It wouldn't explain what you're doing telling the world and his mother this on the open air, George. So shut up unless you're sending the four-minute warning. We're on our way!'
'So what do you think, sir?' said Wield as they drove away. 'Two for the price of one?'
'I think George Headingley got his brain on the National Health and his immune system's rejecting it,' said Dalziel. 'But if yon Ivor really has got us Benny Lightfoot, I think I might have to marry her.'
At about the same time, Rosie Pascoe woke again and announced she was hungry. When she was only allowed a very light amount of liquid intake, she started to complain bitterly and her parents looked at each other with broad smiles.
'Am I very ill?' the little girl asked suddenly.
Pascoe's heart jolted for a second, but Ellie's ear was much more attuned to the note of calculation in the question.
'You've been fairly ill,' she said firmly. 'But now you are much better. And if you're completely better in time for the Mid-Yorks Fair, Daddy will take you and you can go on the Big Loop. Now Mummy's got to go out for a little while, but I'll be back shortly.'
Pascoe followed her to the door.
'What was all that about?' he asked.
'The trick is to make the reward for getting better, not for being ill, otherwise she'll spin the invalid state out for months,' said Ellie patiently.
'Yes, I got that. I meant about the Big Loop. You know it makes me sick.'
'Peter, though I'll deny ever having said it, sometimes a little more Schwarzenegger, a little less Hugh Grant, would be a useful corrective.'
'Okay. Where the hell do you think you're going, babe?'
'That is pure Cagney,' she said. Then, more serious, 'I'm just going to check on Jill. Okay, I understand what you said before, and I'm not going to push myself on her. She'll be at home now anyway, I should think. But I wanted to talk to someone about her and try to work out what's best for us to do.'
'Okay,' said Pascoe. 'I'll entertain the monster.'
After a fairly short spell of 'entertainment,' the monster looked ready to go back to sleep again.
'That's right, sweetie. You have a nap, get your strength up,' said Pascoe. 'In hospital you need to be fit to keep an eye on all the visitors trying to steal your grapes.'
'Will I get a lot of visitors?' asked Rosie sleepily.
'Depends on the quality of your grapes.'
'Will Zandra come?'
Pascoe made a huge effort to keep his voice light.
'If she can,' he said.
He didn't know when the time would be ripe to tell her, but he knew it wasn't now.
'I haven't seen her since Sunday. Not to talk to, anyway. She might have the photos Derek took by now.'
'Yes. Darling, remember when you had your breakfast picnic on Sunday?'
He felt guilty about asking but assured himself he wouldn't have brought it up if she hadn't mentioned Zandra herself.
'Yes. And I saw the nix taking Nina,' she said.
It was as if he'd somehow conveyed the trend of his thought to her.
'That's right. You were using Derek's binoculars, weren't you?'
'Yes. They make things a lot bigger than yours, you know,' she said seriously.
'I'm sure,' he said, smiling. 'And you saw Nina down in the valley. By herself, was she?'
'Yes. No. She had a little dog.'
'Then the nix came.'
'Yes. He came running down the hill and he threw her into a hole in the ground. I expect his cave is down there somewhere.'
Her voice was very faint and weary now.
Pascoe pulled Novello's Post out of his pocket and unfolded it so that the double page spread at its center showed.
'Just before you drop off, darling, anyone here you recognize?'
She peered through half-closed eyes, then smiled and stabbed with her finger.
'That's Uncle Andy,' she said.
'Hello. What's this game you're playing?' said Ellie's voice.
She had come in undetected and her tone was light and playful. But something in her husband's manner as he looked up must have alerted her, for now she asked suspiciously, 'What is that you're showing her, Peter?'
'Just a photo of Uncle Andy, that's all,' said Pascoe, starting to fold the paper.
But before he could do this, the little hand reached out and the finger stabbed again.
'And that's the rotten old nix,' said Rosie Pascoe.
Then she yawned hugely and fell asleep.
The Summer Festival Concert was due to start at seven o'clock.
After a light lunch, Elizabeth went into the garden, stretched out on a lounger shaded by a parasol, and fell asleep.
She was woken by a sound and opened her eyes to Arne Krog looking down at her.
'I was moving the umbrella,' he said. 'The sun's moved round. I didn't think you'd want to sing with your face looking like a partial eclipse. And you have such delicate skin, don't you?'
'No, I've got skin like a cucumber, but I like it to look delicate,' she said. 'As you, of course, know.'
'I do?'
'Aye, you don't miss a lot, Arne. Especially when it comes to watching women. Not that it's just women you watch.'
'What on earth do you mean?'
'What did you see when you followed Walter this morning?' She laughed as he looked taken aback. 'Gotcha! I guessed that's what tha were up to.'
'You are a clever girl, Elizabeth. Or perhaps I should call you Betsy when your accent is as broad as this?'
