The others grunted with the sagacity of men who knew better than to be caught by fancy prices.
'Sad about the accident,' said Dalziel.
Grey-head nodded agreement but another rounder, jollier man piped up, 'Silly bugger shouldn't have been up there. Not his job.'
'Whose job was it?' asked Dalziel.
This flummoxed them for a moment.
'Depends what he were doing,' said grey-head cautiously.
'Come and have a look,' invited Dalziel.
Ghoulish curiosity proved stronger than Gibb's command and they followed him into the Banqueting Hall, dropping their voices to the hushed murmurs of a stately-home-tours party.
'He was up a ladder, there,' said Dalziel. 'With a drill. They thought he was fixing a beam.'
'Nothing to fix,' said grey-head. 'We put that beam up ourselves, last thing we did before knocking off. That won't come down in a hurry.'
'So what could he have been fixing? Up there along the wall a bit. You can see where he was drilling.'
They peered into the shadowy arch of the high roof.
'Christ knows,' said grey-head. 'There's nothing there. I plastered right along this wall after they finished the wiring.'
Suddenly everything was illuminated.
Gibb stood by the door with his hand on the light panel.
'So here you are then,' he said. 'Right, lads, let's get the gear in. We're in business.'
The men streamed out of the hall with no signs of over-enthusiasm.
'So the old man's coughing up,' pried Dalziel.
'Don't let on you didn't know,' said Gibb. 'I'll have cash in my hand before the day's out. That's the deal.'
'And how long will it take you to finish the job?'
'Working hard at it? With lots of overtime, two or three days.'
'That's not bad.'
'No. Well, frankly, Mr Dalziel, with things the way they are, I'd prefer to take it easy, give the lads a week, ten days even. But the old man's a tough nut. He's made it quite clear that he's no party to the original agreement. If I go to law, there's no way I can get my hands on his cash. So he's calling the tune. And that says, three days at the outside. So we're dancing the quickstep. Excuse me.'
Dalziel followed him out, musing on what had been said, but especially on the flash of illumination which had come to him as Gibb switched on the lights.
Hereward Fielding was standing in the doorway of the main house once more. He beckoned imperiously.
'Come in, come in,' he said impatiently. 'I've a great deal to do and it won't get done hanging around here, waiting for you.'
'You're expecting me then,' said Dalziel.
'Of course. When I saw you out in the yard with that man, I knew you'd be here in a short time.'
'Well,' said Dalziel. 'That saves the bother of being subtle.'
'Really,' said Fielding. 'A pity. That I should have liked to observe. To business then. I've changed my mind. I've decided after all to invest my newly acquired wealth in the family business. A foolish decision, you may think, but freely made. Blood after all is thicker than water.'
'Your blood than lake water, mebbe,' grunted Dalziel. 'That's got shot of the crap. Now tell me what really changed your mind.'
Fielding shook his head in reluctant admiration.
‘If I could have written poetry of such simple directness,' he said, 'I would have been a set-book by now. No, Dalziel. That's all I have to say. Pry no further; or else.'
'Or else what?'' Or else I shall command my daughter-in-law to forbid you the house.'
His eyes twinkled and an ironic smile tugged at his thin lips.
'You see, I am a man of influence now.'
Dalziel was unimpressed.
'Think on,' he said. 'You might think it's bad having me here privately, but that's nowt to having me officially.'
'I believe it,' said Fielding. 'But come now, there's no cause for us to quarrel. In your younger, greener days you must have been trained to help old gents cross the street. Now you may drive me into Orburn if you would be so kind. I must visit my bank and make arrangements for the malodorous Gibb.'
'And buy a big hat,' added Dalziel.
'Perhaps not today,' laughed Fielding. 'But I shall certainly be laying in a stock of decent brandy. They can use this stuff for flaming Christmas puddings. We could do a little sampling at the Lady Hamilton after lunch. On me, of course.'
'I haven't got a car,' said Dalziel.
'We'll take the Rover. I have the keys.' He held them up as evidence.
'Five minutes then,' said Dalziel, turning away.
Fielding's manner interested him. His speech style was normally what Dalziel designated as 'clever poofy' but there was an element of strain behind it today which had nothing to do with intellectual affectation. Nor did he much care for the quick production of the Rover's keys. Fielding must have got them from Bonnie. And the house was full of young drivers. Indeed there was no apparent bar to the old man's driving himself.
Well, if they wanted him out of the way, he'd go. It suited him to go to Orburn anyway. But he'd go on his own terms.
He headed for the kitchen fast. Tillotson and Louisa were drinking coffee together. They weren't speaking to each other but the atmosphere between them was manifestly more cordial than ever before in Dalziel's limited experience. When he had a moment, he must find out why she'd punched the poor sod on the nose that night.
'Morning,' he said brightly.
'Hi,' said Louisa. 'Fancy a cup?'
This was real cordiality.
'No time, thanks all the same. I'm running Herrie to town. Like to come?'
They exchanged glances.
'No thanks,' said Louisa.
'Things to do,' said Tillotson.
'Great news about the restaurant,' said Dalziel.
'Yes, isn't it,' said Tillotson brightly. 'With a bit of luck we can still open on time. I always knew it would be all right.'
Unimpressed by this unlikely claim to clairvoyance, Louisa said nothing but pulled her lower lip forward so that the moist inner flesh showed. It was quite sexy, thought Dalziel. If you were as skinny as she was, he supposed you had to do your best with whatever protuberances you could lay your hands on.
'Grand,' said Dalziel. 'Excuse me.'
He went into the back kitchen and returned a moment later with something in a plastic carrier bag.
'Taking a picnic?' asked Louisa.
'Just a nibble,' said Dalziel. 'Sure you won't come?'
'Sure. Any news about Mrs Greave?' asked Louisa.
'No. You'll have to do your own dinner,' said Dalziel. 'Perhaps the great white hunter here will shoot a couple of flying fish. You owe me for a cleaning job, Charley.'
Tillotson was full of apologies when he finally grasped Dalziel's meaning. Louisa was unsympathetic.
'Messing about in boats is messy,' she said firmly.
'It seemed safer than the landing-stage,' commented Dalziel.
'Poor old Sphincter,' sighed Tillotson.
'Yes?' nodded Dalziel.
'Nothing,' said Tillotson, puzzled. 'Just poor old Sphincter.'
'A sad loss,' said Dalziel. 'Especially to Anchor Insurance. They'll have to send someone else to investigate you.'
