lake poured in.
'Not loaded,' said Dalziel to a dumbfounded Tillotson. 'Jesus Christ. Pascoe, grab those oars!'
Pascoe obeyed just in time. As he began awkwardly to paddle the punt back towards the shore, the rowing- boat sank with a quiet burp, leaving only a few bubbles and Dalziel's floppy hat to show where it had foundered.
Back at the house they found the car chaos was under control. Cross had taken over and the only cars now remaining were those stranded by Dalziel's removal of the keys which fortunately had survived his immersion. But the confusion in the car park seemed now to have been internalized by the members of the household who hung around in their fancy dress like actors uncertain of their cue. Pascoe was particularly sorry for Bonnie Fielding whose anxiety about her father-in-law and distress at Dalziel's half-drowned state were doubled by the discovery that her son Nigel had decided to run away again. Another note had been found saying that one night of working in the restaurant had convinced him this was no life for a sensitive spirit, or words to that effect.
Pascoe tried to keep Hereward apart from the rest of the household but his effort was in vain without resorting to the strong arm of the law and as Dalziel had retired to dry himself without firm instruction, he contented himself with keeping the old poet in sight. He was not at all surprised to find Ellie waiting at the landing- stage. She had sent her parents home by themselves and returned just in time to hear the boom of the duck gun. The look of relief on her face as she saw them emerge from the mist had been a great boost for Pascoe's ego, even though her first words to him were, 'You've got oil all over your best suit!'
Now they were all gathered in the old man's sitting-room. Hereward had poured himself a large brandy and Pascoe was interested to notice that he filled up a glass with Glen Grant also. Cross came into the room accompanied by a new figure whom he introduced to Pascoe as Chief Inspector Balderstone. Briefly Pascoe outlined what had taken place. Obscurely he felt the need to somehow cover up for Dalziel, but he had no idea how to do this. The fat man would have to look after himself.
Balderstone listened carefully but ventured no comment and a couple of minutes later, Dalziel reappeared.
He had changed quickly into sports jacket and slacks. On his feet incongruously he wore a pair of multi- coloured carpet slippers. But casual though his garb was, Pascoe realized it separated him from the medieval/Tudor costume of the Lake House people as clearly as if he had come down in full police uniform.
He greeted Balderstone and spoke quietly to the two local policemen for a few moments, after which Cross slipped out of the room.
'Andy,' called Hereward Fielding. 'There's a drink waiting your attention here. And for your friends too.'
The atmosphere had subtly changed, realized Pascoe. From confusion and doubt a kind of optimism had emerged. He felt he could guess its source and the next minute confirmed this.
'Thanks,' said Dalziel, taking the drink. 'I need that.'
'I'm sorry about your soaking,' said Hereward. 'And about that gun! When I think what could have happened, my blood curdles.'
He shivered and took a long pull at his drink.
'My fault really,' added Tillotson. 'I'm so sorry.'
'But even with the gun empty, it was a silly joke,' resumed Hereward.
'Joke?'
'Holding you up like that! It's true what they say about second childhood. I never thought I'd start playing pirates!'
He laughed and all around him the others laughed too.
Dalziel didn't laugh.
'Where were you going, Herrie?' he asked.
'I told you. I couldn't get out of the gate because of those damned cars, so I organized a taxi.'
'At the other side of the lake.'
'That's so. You see I wanted to get into High Fold and as you'll recall from our first encounter, that's over that side.'
'And why did you want to get into High Fold?' asked Dalziel. He was speaking very calmly and with hardly any inflection, as if, thought Pascoe, he merely wants to get this out of the way so he can get on with the real business. Pascoe had no doubt that this was Dalziel's intention, but where he could go from here he could not see. It was clear that the truth about Butt had been unearthed, probably from Sergeant Cross who would have no reason to withhold it. This is what came of acting alone, as Dalziel had often warned him. Almost certainly this stupid pretence about the diary had been exploded also. So Hereward had now learned the truth. There was no need to run. The evidence such as it was pointed to Butt and no one else.
Pascoe wondered uneasily if Dalziel had assumed he would keep the old man incommunicado, but he himself had made no effort in this direction when they first re-entered the house.
'I wanted to get to the pub there and buy a couple of bottles of cherry brandy. Revolting drink, I know, but very popular with the lower orders. We had run short. Bonnie asked me to see what I could do.'
He glanced at Bonnie who met Dalziel's disbelieving gaze full on and nodded.
'Why go to High Fold. Why not Low Fold? It's a mile closer.'
'It's the licensing hours,' said Hereward. 'Different authorities. They have an extra half-hour at weekends in High Fold.'
It all fitted together rather nicely, thought Pascoe in whose mind a little doubt had begun to stir. Could it be true? No! He had been there, had heard the exchange between Dalziel and this man. But what had he heard? A joke. Why not?
Dalziel had remained silent since Fielding's last answer and the old man decided to press home his advantage.
'What's all the fuss, Andy? Is it the gun? I'm sorry about that, but you have to make allowances for the mentally handicapped. Hank has promised to dismantle it tomorrow. He's good with his hands.'
Uniff waved them before him like a Negro minstrel.
'Yeah, man,' he said.
Balderstone coughed gently.
'Excuse me, sir,' he said to Dalziel. 'Have you any instructions?'
'It's your case, Chief Inspector,' said Dalziel. 'I'm a guest here. Though there's one suggestion I could make.'
'What's that, sir?'
'Arrest the bloody lot of them,' snarled Dalziel. 'Charge 'em with obstructing the police and with being accessories before, after, and during the fact.'
'What fact is that, sir?'
'The fact that Open Annie Greave was done to death in this house ten days ago.'
He glared malevolently at the group before him. Their reactions all looked to Pascoe like bad acting, but perhaps it was their theatrical costume which gave this impression. Only Hereward remained firmly in character.
He laughed disbelievingly.
'Can that be it, Andrew? You think that absurd story you told Bonnie made me start like a guilty thing surprised and set off across the lake like Lord Ullin's daughter? For God's sake, you know me well enough by now. Even if I were guilty, if in my age I had found sufficient strength first to roger then to strangle this unfortunate woman, can you imagine that I would take flight in such a futile and undignified fashion? Dressed like this?'
His hands touched his doublet, his face lengthened in amused surprise, till finally he began to laugh at the self-evident absurdity of the idea. It was an infectious laugh and gradually, one by one, the others joined in. Even Pascoe felt tempted. Dalziel's face didn't change.
'Come on, Andy,' said Bonnie. 'Let's have a drink and count the takings. Your friends can help. At least it'll be an honest count with the law so well represented.'
She advanced smiling. She was an extraordinarily attractive woman, thought Pascoe. Something of this must have shown on his face as a sudden sharp kick on the ankle reminded him that Ellie was standing close by.
'I'm sorry,' said Dalziel.
'Sorry? Never apologize,' laughed Bonnie.
