'What the hell for?'
'Well, you said you didn't want me involved on the case.'
'I don't want you talking to Burkill or Shorter, get that clear. But there's no reason why you should be sitting on your arse in the office while I'm stuck down here. No, you go and sort out that Heppelwhite pair, get their version of things.'
'Burkill won't like me interrogating his mates.'
Dalziel's face was as heavy and ugly as a slag heap.
'No one tells me who I can or can't use on a case, Inspector. No bloody one. Now jump to it and we'll see if we can't get round one over before closing time!'
Constable Palmer was in such earnest conversation with the Heppelwhites that he didn't hear Pascoe open the door.
'There was a case up in Middlesbrough last month,' he was saying. 'Same thing. Only he were a teacher. Suspended sentence. No wonder someone thumps them!'
'You reckon we'll be OK then?' said Charlie Heppelwhite.
'Bound to be. He'll not want the publicity. Anyway, go for a jury if it comes to a case. You're entitled, and there's not a family man in this town but'd applaud you.'
'Palmer!' said Pascoe.
'Sir.'
'Step outside for a moment.'
Pascoe heard himself reprimanding the constable with an ironic awareness of the parallels between this scene and his own recent interview with Dalziel.
Palmer was obviously unrepentant.
'Sorry, sir,' he said, 'but I've got two little girls of my own.'
'Proud of their dad?'
'I hope so, sir.'
'Then you'd better learn to follow instructions, else they'll be wondering why daddy's spending so much time at home.'
Palmer's face set with resentment but he said nothing in reply and Pascoe dismissed him, feeling full of guilt at uttering such a Dalzielesque authoritarian threat.
He spoke to the Heppelwhites separately. The father, though he expressed the feeling that scourging was too good for a man like Shorter, obviously had considerable reservations about the whole business.
'I didn't want to come here,' he said. 'But he were set on it, so I thought it best to come with him. Bri's a hard man when he wants. And our Clint's got a temper.'
Pascoe regarded his thin earnest face and groaned inwardly. Here was someone else whose route to the punch-up was paved with good intentions.
'Who threw the first punch?' he asked.
Heppelwhite thought carefully.
'I don't rightly know,' he said in the end. 'The dentist waved his arms about, you know, going shoo! shoo! like we were a lot of sheep. Clint grabbed one of his arms, just to restrain him a bit, and the fellow called Clint a smelly yobbo, some such thing. Then Clint pushed him in the chest.'
'Punched or pushed?'
Heppelwhite hesitated.
'A bit of both,' he admitted. 'He swung at Clint and next thing Bri was banging away at him.'
'And you?'
'I don't know. I just found myself going through the motions. Down our way, you don't hang around when your mate's in a fight.'
'You could have tried to stop it.'
'Last fellow I saw try to stop Bri in a fight got a busted nose,' said Heppelwhite.
'Oh. Is Mr Burkill a regular fighter then?'
'I never said that. It happens he's on the Club committee and if there's ever any trouble down there, it's Bri they send for. It's usually visitors start it.'
'Of course,' agreed Pascoe. 'Foreigners from Doncaster or Sheffield. I gather you've known Mr Burkill a long time.'
'Aye. Twenty years or more. I'm a couple of years older than him, but his missus and mine's of an age and they were best friends ever since school.'
'Nice family?'
'Very nice.'
'Close?'
'What?'
'I mean, they get on well together.'
'Oh yes. Deirdre, that's Mrs Burkill, she's always been dead proud of Bri and the way he's got on.'
'And Sandra?'
'Lovely lass. I'm her godfather, like Brian's my Clint's.'
'And she likes her father?'
'What a daft question!' said Heppelwhite. 'Of course she likes her father. He's, well, he's her father!'
'Were you surprised when you heard what she said about Shorter?'
Heppelwhite hesitated before saying, 'Of course I was surprised.'
'You don't seem sure.'
'Don't try to put words in my mouth, lad!'
'Nice-looking girl, is she? For her age, I mean.'
'Aye. Very bonnie. For her age.'
'They grow quick these days, don't they? Suppose I suggested to you, Mr Heppelwhite, that if Sandra had been caught up to some hanky-panky with a young lad, you'd not have been in the least surprised. Would that be nearer the mark? It was Mr Shorter's alleged interference which surprised and shocked you.'
'Perhaps,' said Heppelwhite cautiously. 'There's mebbe summat of that in it.'
He was clearly unwilling to go further and without having seen the girl himself, Pascoe didn't feel able to pursue the line.
Clint began defiantly, asserting a Wild West notion of chivalry and vengeance.
'She's only a kid, isn't she? She needs protected.'
'All girls need protected, do they?'
'Decent girls do,' said Clint boldly.
'How old are you, Clint?'
'Nineteen.'
'Been around a bit?'
'What?'
'You know. Had your share? Know what I mean?'
'I do all right,’ said Clint.
'Do you really? That's interesting. Mostly slag, though?'
'What?'
'You know. Scrubbers. Old bits that you pay.'
'Not bloody likely,' said Clint hotly.
'No? Well, stuff that's there for everyone, then. There's always one or two like that around. You know, snap your fingers and it's yours.'
'Get stuffed!' exploded Clint.
'You mean, it's not just the easy stuff? You don't mean to tell me you've been making it with… decent girls?'
It was a petty triumph and Pascoe felt disgusted with himself for seeking it. Besides it was bad technique. Burkill might be provoked into talking by such an attack but all it served to do with this youngster was drive him into a surly silence.
