The Jockey's conveniences were misnamed. The gents consisted of a small brick outhouse, a fearful journey on a rainy night. The ladies was inside at least, but at the end of a long, gloomy corridor at some remove from the drinking areas. In rural Yorkshire the age when women didn't drink and men used the wall outside was never far away.
Ellie was half-way down the corridor when she heard a noise behind her. She began to turn her head, but had only moved it through forty-five degrees when something cold and slimily smooth was thrust down over it. At the same time a knee was rammed jarringly against the base of her spine.
She drew her breath to scream and sucked in a mouthful of the cold and smooth material. She felt her handbag being removed from her unresisting fingers. For a moment the attacker's hand moved to her breast but the movement was acquisitive not exploratory and she felt her pendant being torn from her neck at the same time as she was pushed roughly sideways. Her shins struck something hard and metallic and she fell to the ground. A door clicked shut. Then everything was quiet except for her own spasmodic breathing.
It took her several minutes to realize that she was lying among the buckets in a cleaning store-cupboard, that over her head had been a plastic carrier-bag and, most mercifully, she was alone.
The door turned out to be without a handle on the inside and it took another five minutes to attract attention.
'You've been a long time,' said Dalziel.
'A funny thing happened to me on the way to the loo,' she began.
Pascoe had been sleeping well the second time round. Mrs Crowther's knock woke him from a rather soothing dream in which he was pursuing Pelman slowly round the Kruger National Park.
'I wouldn't have woken you,' said Mrs Crowther, 'only it's your young lady, Miss Soper, and if she don't speak to you she's going to think you're dead.'
It took several minutes to convince Ellie that he was in fact far from death's door, but finally she rather grudgingly accepted the fact.
'It's been a hell of a night so far then,' she said. 'I've been attacked too.'
'What!'
'Yes. A violent assault on my way to the loo in the Jockey. I'm probably dreadfully bruised. And then I was robbed.'
She told the story lightly, but Pascoe was extremely worried.
'Look, love, if they got your keys, you shouldn't stay there alone.'
'Oh, I'm not alone. I'm well protected.'
'Who by?' asked Pascoe with sudden suspicion.
'That very perfect gentle knight – who else? Superintendent Dalziel. He's hovering. I think he'd like a word.'
'Evening, Sergeant. Been in the wars again? Mr Backhouse'll be getting ideas we can't handle ourselves up here.'
'What's the form on this business, sir?' demanded Pascoe impatiently.
'God knows. Accident? Someone saw his chance in the pub, made a grab, then probably drove off home. No one noticed a thing of course!'
'What's been taken?'
'Precious little. A few quid. Toilet stuff. Her pendant. Nothing very valuable, Miss Soper assures me. It seems her men friends don't run to diamond bracelets and strings of pearls.' He laughed throatily. 'It hardly seems worth the effort, does it?'
'That's what worries me, sir.'
'Not to worry, Sergeant. Happens all the time, as we policemen know, eh?'
Dalziel was being diplomatic, Pascoe realized. His lighthearted tone was for Ellie's benefit. But all possible implications of the crime would be considered. Dalziel talked for some time longer, whether to reinforce his carefree role or whether because he believed in cramming every rift with ore it was hard to tell. He passed on the latest reports on the Sturgeon case.
Pascoe's reaction was the same as Ellie's.
'Poor sod!'
'Well, he does own the land. He'll probably be able to flog that for enough to stave off the mortgage sharks from his bungalow for a while. Then I suppose he'll either live off social security or go back to work. He sounds like one of the independent ones to me. No bloody charity and all that.'
'It's a hell of an age to be broke,' said Pascoe.
'Any age is. Lewis must've felt the same. The business was right up shit-creek. Cowley's claiming that things are far worse than he imagined. Says that his partner must have been milking money steadily out of the business account without him knowing.'
'Yes. I was there this morning.' reminded Pascoe.
'So you were. It seems longer. You didn't see that report we got in from that comic Scotsman, though. Jesus! the detail! Nothing new. A bit of a description of Lewis's girl-friend, obviously seen through lust-coloured spectacles. Very exotic she sounds, lots of make-up, revealing clothes, big knockers, just the job for these cold Highland nights.'
'Is Ellie still there, sir?' asked Pascoe reprovingly.
'Yes. She seems to find our constabulary business very amusing. You sure you're OK? Don't hang about after you've given your evidence, will you? We need you here. 'Bye, Sergeant.'
'Hello, love,' said Ellie. 'You take care, will you?'
'Is Dalziel still there?'
'No. He's diplomatically gone for a pee.'
'What the hell were you doing with him tonight? He's not been sticking his nose in again, has he?'
'Calm down, love,' laughed Ellie. 'No. Au contraire, as they say. He wants us to get married.'
'He wants what?'
'Us to marry. You and me, that is, not me and him!'
'Well thank God for that.'
'I told him I'd think about it.'
'Why not?' said Pascoe. He glanced at his watch. Just after eight. It seemed early still. He shook it to make sure it was still going.
'Are you still there?' said Ellie.
'Yes. Just checking the time.'
'Oh.' She sounded faintly disappointed. 'I won’t keep you from your sick-bed, love. See you tomorrow.'
'Yes. Sure. Take care now.'
He felt much better, he realized. Only the slightest headache.
He replaced the receiver and looked at his watch again. He really did feel better.
Chapter 3
'Order! Order!' commanded Angus Pelman. 'We really must give John a hearing.'
'We give him a hearing every time,’ said the Reverend Matthias. 'I propose an amendment whereby John give us a rest.'
'That's not very Christian of you, Vicar,' said John Bell. 'I wouldn't put that in the minutes, Marianne. We don't want the vicar defrocked.'
'Order,' said Pelman. He sounded less than his usual forceful self, thought Marianne, glancing at her watch. This meeting seemed to be going on forever. As usual the main delaying factor was John Bell's anti-pollution campaign.
'Sorry, Mr Chairman,' he said. 'As you know, I've been worried for some time about the stream that runs through the village. Its course is familiar to you. It runs down from Cobbett's farm, through Angus's woods, and then follows the line of the road to the village, passing behind the small development which contains my house. We
