Pascoe looked. Looked away. Looked back.
'What?' said Dalziel.
'That fireplace. Here, you just see a corner of it. But I'm sure. ..'
'What?'
'It's at Hay Hall. That's where Homeric do their filming. I'm sure it's the same one. Damn! That's where they'll all be! Probably no one in the Harrogate office. I'll get on to Crabtree and tell him.'
He reached for the phone.
'No,' said Dalziel. 'I've a sudden fancy to see these people for myself. Do they have a phone out there?'
'I don't think so,' said Pascoe. 'No power supply, certainly.'
'Then if Arany wanted to see Toms, he'd have to go in person? Good. Peter, get Sergeant Wield back from Arany's flat. No one's going to turn up there. Send Inspector Trumper in to see me. I've got a few phone calls to make, so give me five minutes, will you? Then..’
He looked speculatively at Pascoe who felt that the fat man was debating whether to tell him something.
'Then?' he prompted.
'Then,' said Dalziel. 'Then it's heigh-ho! for Hay Hall!'
Chapter 24
As they turned into the green tunnel which was the drive of Hay Hall, Dalziel asked, 'How far's the house?'
'Quarter of a mile. Less,' said Pascoe.
'Good. We'll walk. Do us good. Just stop here. Here I said!'
'I was trying to pull off the driveway,' explained Pascoe. 'Otherwise it'll be blocked.'
'Never mind that. Sergeant, you stay with the car. Commune with nature and any other bugger who comes this way. Come on, Peter. You youngsters are all the same. You've forgotten what your feet are for!'
Pascoe looked at the fat behind he was following and remembered wistfully one thing a foot was for.
'What's that noise?' asked Dalziel.
Pascoe listened. It was a throbbing, mechanical sound.
'The generator truck,' he guessed. 'They have to provide their own power source.
‘Doesn’t the noise get on the sound track?' asked Dalziel.
'I suppose they park it at the far side of the house, use directional mikes, that sort of thing.'
'Aye. Any road I suppose it'll be like the music at the Ball of Kirriemuir.'
'What?'
'You couldn't hear it for the swishing of the pricks. Sorry, I keep forgetting you're a soccer man. 'Ee-ay-adeeo we're going to win the cup'. No fucking art.'
The Hall came into sight. Half a dozen cars ranging from an antique Mini to a shiny Jaguar were parked in front of the main entrance. The generator truck was tucked away round the side as Pascoe had surmised.
'Straight in?' said Pascoe.
Dalziel considered.
'You go straight in,' he said. 'I'll have a stroll around. I'm enjoying the air. They know you, they'll likely make you very welcome.'
'I'm sorry, sir,' said Pascoe. 'I'm not quite clear about our strategy.'
'Strategy? We're thief-takers, not generals, lad. If it moves, arrest it; if it stands still, suspect it. What's your main concern in this business?'
'I suppose,' said Pascoe slowly, 'to protect the girl, make sure it can never happen again.'
'Never? You're a knight in shining armour right enough, Peter. Get yourself in there and clank around a bit. I'll be with you soon.'
The fat man moved into the trees.
'And good night, Chingachgook,' murmured Pascoe as he resumed his approach to the house.
The front door was slightly ajar. Cautiously he pushed it. Suddenly the slow movement accelerated as the door was pulled open from within and Pascoe was dragged forward off balance. He had time to think 'second time today!' as a pair of strong hands gripped his lapels and a knee came up between his legs. Instinctively he twisted sideways to avoid the blow but he was too unready. His testicles would have been badly crushed if the knee hadn't decelerated as though the assailant had had second thoughts. Even so, contact was still made and Pascoe cried out in pain as his attacker released his jacket and stepped back.
'Peter!' he said. 'For God's sake. I didn't realize… are you all right?'
It was Ray Crabtree.
'Great, great,' gasped Pascoe. 'I think there's one of them not quite flat and we can always adopt.'
'Come and sit down,' said Crabtree, full of concern. 'There must be something to drink in this place. Penny, where do you keep the booze?'
Penelope Latimer had appeared in the hallway. She was wearing a tight-fitting silver lame trouser suit. Nothing could hope to reduce her bulk, but this gear accentuated it to a point where, strangely, it almost disappeared. The material shot out wires of light like the sky at night, and like the sky at night it made the gazer aware of his own insignificance rather than the vastness of what he regarded.
'What's happened?' she asked.
'A bit of an accident,’ said Crabtree.
'I'm OK, really,' said Pascoe manfully, not caring to nurse his crutch in front of a woman. 'It just came as a surprise. Ray, what the hell are you doing here?'
Crabtree's eyes flickered warningly towards Penny.
'Is there any chance of a drink, love?' he asked. 'Or a cup of strong sweet tea?'
'Sure,' said the woman. 'I'll go fix it.'
She left them, hesitating in the doorway and glancing back before she finally disappeared.
'Can't be too careful,' said Crabtree, 'though I dare say they've guessed something's up now you've arrived. What happened was, after you rang I remembered that all the Homeric lot would be out here, not in town. So out I came. I played it low-key at the Calli and asked if they'd seen Arany.'
'They admitted to knowing who you were talking about?' interrupted Pascoe.
Crabtree laughed.
'I didn't give them a chance to deny it. Anyway, no one's laid eyes on him, they claim. So I had a stroll around inside just to check, then I thought I'd glance over the grounds just in case that lad – whatsisname? – Burkill, should be lurking, though it didn't seem likely. I was crossing the hall when I saw the door begin to open, all slow and furtive, and I thought to myself, Ray lad, you're wrong. Here comes Burkill, looking for Arany or anyone else he can get his hands on. And so…'
'So you decided to damage him for life,' said Pascoe.
'No! But you did say he was a tough customer, Peter, and likely to be a bit demented. I just didn't want to take any chances. I've said I'm sorry. You needn't think I'm going to kiss it better!'
'You've been here too long,' said Pascoe. 'Where's that drink?'
Crabtree led him across the hall into the room in which he had first met Toms on his last visit here. The room was empty now, though the atmosphere was heavy with cigarette smoke and the smell of human beings.
'Penny'll be along shortly, I should think,' said Crabtree. 'She's a good provider, that one. Look, Peter, you weren't very clear on the phone. Do you reckon that Homeric have really been up to something nasty? And I mean, nowadays nasty has really got to be nasty, right? I mean, we all like it! It's just a matter of degree.'
'I've told you everything I know,' said Pascoe.
'Which brings it down to the girl. Couldn't this fellow Arany just have some private thing going? Dirty photos to sell round the clubs. I mean, you don't know for sure there was a film, and even if there is, you don't know that Homeric have got anything to do with it.'
'You seem pretty reluctant to tie in Homeric,' said Pascoe. 'For God's sake, pornography's their
