'Aye, but more like with us for stopping her. She was in a hurry, I recall. Something about being late to pick up her kiddie from school. We'd almost missed her, she was so quick. Straight in and off, no seat-belt fastened or anything.'
'She didn't put her shopping in the back then, anything like that?'
'No, she weren't carrying anything but a little handbag. Hey, what's all this questioning, anyway, young Shady? You after Mr Dalziel's job or what?'
'No. It's just part of a training study I'm doing,' lied Singh. 'You didn't say anything about her not being bothered in your report.'
'Relevant facts, that's what reports are about, haven't they taught you that yet?' said Bradley. 'Get a move on, you great clodhopper, afore someone sees us! We should have been on our way five minutes back.'
He was addressing his partner, PC Grainger, whose portly sixteen-stone frame had appeared in the entrance to the station. Grainger mouthed a kiss and began to approach at an easy rolling pace.
'But she did co-operate?' said Singh.
'You still going on?' asked Bradley, opening the driver's door. 'She rattled on a bit, said it wasn't much damage and she'd really rather not get involved. But I told her she'd got no choice. So she gave us details and took off like Stirling Moss.'
He started the engine and revved it up as Grainger reached the passenger door.
'And you said all the cars had been parked there by nine o'clock or shortly after?' persisted Singh.
'That's right, Sherlock.'
'What's up with him?' enquired Grainger, getting in with difficulty.
'He's being conscientious,' said Bradley. 'He's trying to find out how real policemen work.'
'He's come to the right shop then,' said Grainger, settling his bulk into the seat and closing his eyes. 'Try to go steady and miss the bumps. That's the secret of getting on the cars, Shady. Going steady and missing the bumps. I doubt a daft sprog like you will ever make it.'
'The cars are on their way out,' said Singh seriously. 'Haven't you heard? The Chief Constable says it's all about community policing nowadays. Eighty per cent of the uniformed branch on the beat, that's what he wants. Starting next month.'
Grainger opened an eye and said, 'Piss off. Where'd you hear that rubbish?'
'It's on the notice-board, haven't you seen it?' said Singh in apparent surprise.
Grainger opened the other eye.
'You're joking,' he said. 'Aren't you?'
'No,' said Singh. 'It's up on the board, right enough. And details of how they're going to pick them as'll be walking.'
'How's that then?'
Singh leaned to the window and said confidentially, 'They're doing it by weight. Fattest first.'
Bradley roared with laughter. Grainger said, 'You cheeky young bugger!' and then his partner set the car in motion and they accelerated out of the car park.
Singh looked after them, grinning at the success of his joke for a while. Then his expression became serious once more. So Sergeant Wield had neglected to talk to Bradley about his report? Well, likely it didn't matter. But there was enough there to be interesting. And he had another idea to follow up. Wield's offhand manner had really stung him, all the more so because he hadn't been able to detect any general racial prejudice in it. It was as if on the level of simple personal judgement Wield didn't reckon he amounted to much as a copper, and that's what hurt. But he'd show him yet. He'd show 'em all!
'If he said drop it, drop it,' said Dalziel. 'You seemed keen enough to get shut of the whole business the other day.'
'I'm sorry, sir,' said Pascoe. 'I know it's all a bit vague, but I just get the feeling that there's something here. All right, forget the alleged killings which are no longer alleged and which in any case seem to have been perfectly straightforward cases of accidental and of natural death. Curiously, in the one case where a bit of skulduggery could have been possible, that was the death of a man called Christopher Burke which opened up the way for Aldermann's full-time employment, Mr Elgood was emphatic it was accidental.'
'Burke? Oh aye, I recall. Fell off a ladder, didn't he? Broke his neck.'
'That's the one. Easier to arrange, I should've thought, than a heart attack or a car skidding on an empty road. But no, not that one, says Elgood.'
'And no, not the others either,' reminded Dalziel, sticking a pen down the side of his shoe to scratch his foot.
'But there has to be a reason why he came here in the first place. You did take him seriously yourself, sir,' said Pascoe accusingly.
'No,' answered Dalziel, who had now worked back upto his ankle. 'I asked
'You mean he's one of your narks?' exclaimed Pascoe in amazement.
'Don't be daft, lad! Can you imagine meeting Dandy Dick on a park bench and slipping him a couple of quid for information received? No, it's just that once or twice, especially in the old days, he's settled a business dispute by dropping a hint about some shady deal the opposition was into. All's fair in love and business, Dick'd say. He'd screw anyone, any way!'
Dalziel spoke admiringly. His pen had now emerged from his sock and he'd pulled his trouser leg up so that he could continue the scratch up to his knee. He didn't seem to have noticed that the pen-top had remained in the sock
