Deadheads

Pascoe. ‘It's a bastard. If the Aldermanns are going away for a week, say, we can't afford to stake the place out for seven nights.'

'Might be a fortnight,' said Wield helpfully.

'Thanks! And I don't see much percentage in young Singh chatting to his mate again. He's probably terrified already at what he's done! Still, we can't ignore it. You check with the Aldermanns - no, on second thoughts, I'll do that. It's about time we met formally, I think. You get hold of Arthur Marsh's file again and see if there's anything useful there. And let all ears start flapping for any sound of a link-up between Marsh and these jobs. Mr Dalziel said he'd ring late this afternoon, so I'll fill him in then. He'll be thinking that, one way and another, Aldermann's really managing to hog the limelight! Which reminds me, how'd you get on with Mr Wellington?'

'He didn't take kindly to the suggestion that an eminent, worthy and respected churchgoer like Burke might have been pissed out of his mind,' said Wield. 'He was even less happy at the hint that he might have played down such information.'

'So Burke is stone cold sober,' said Pascoe. 'Which was more than you could say for his widow.'

'How did you find her?'

'Available,' said Pascoe. 'But evasive too. I had the feeling that I could put my finger on anything but the complete truth.'

At half past five the phone rang and next moment Dalziel's stentorian voice was sounding in Pascoe's ear. After listening to a succinct, pungent, and actionably obscene analysis of the conference so far, Pascoe gave his equally succinct but metaphorically more restrained account of his interviews with Masson and Mrs Burke.

Dalziel asked several questions, then said, 'Right, so you think Masson was up to something and Burke's widow was hiding something?'

'I suppose I do,' said Pascoe cautiously.

'I'll think on it,' said Dalziel heavily. 'You carry on talking while I'm thinking.'

Pascoe now told him about Singh's tip.

'Grand,' said Dalziel. 'The lad's done well. Tell him I'm pleased.'

'But it may be nothing,' said Pascoe, surprised by the fat man's enthusiasm, it's so vague.'

'Vague or not, next time the Aldermanns are out of that house, you've got the perfect excuse to be in. You'll be able to go over the place with a fine-tooth comb. Never know what you'll pick up!'

'I thought the idea would be to prevent illegal access,' said Pascoe, faintly scandalized.

'You're not taking a high moral tone with me, are you, lad?' said Dalziel threateningly. 'Listen, we've got that mad Welsh bugger here, the one who's always shooting his mouth off on television. What he wants, apart from hanging, flogging, and machine-guns, is for cops to have right of access without warrant, day or night, to any premises anywhere, and all householders to deposit duplicate keys at their local station! He thinks I'm a wet pinko, so you just count your lucky stars.'

'Sorry, sir,' said Pascoe. 'I'm counting. It's all right. Now I've finished.'

'You're a telephone hero,' said Dalziel with scorn. 'Listen, getting back to Masson, do you think he mebbe reckoned Penny Highsmith destroyed Aunt Flo's will herself?'

'I wondered about that,' admitted Pascoe. 'There was certainly something there, I felt.'

'I'm seeing her on Friday night, I'll put out some feelers,' said Dalziel. It was an image which set Pascoe's mouth twisting in a silent rictus.

'Talking of wills, this Burke woman looked comfortable, did she?'

'Very,' said Pascoe. 'And financially too.'

'You dirty young sod,' said Dalziel. 'Does she make money out of her market stall, do you think?'

'Maybe. But I get the impression she probably just likes the hustle and bustle and the company, preferably male. She's pretty flamboyant.'

'That's a new name for it,' said Dalziel. 'It's probably worth checking on her money, what Burke left her, what her income is now. She's in the covered market, isn't she? How did she get a pitch there? They're not easy to come by, inside or out. One comes vacant, the market traders usually have it sewn up in advance. It's notorious, any councillor on the market committee is kept in King Edwards for life.'

Pascoe made a note and said, 'Any special reason you're so suspicious, sir?'

'Who's suspicious? Just curious. Another thing. You say she drove down to the shops at two-thirty, came back at three-thirty, walked out of the garage straight on to the patio, and there he was, dead?'

'That's right,' said Pascoe. 'I've got all the reports here. Inquest, police, medical. It all tallies.'

'Have a look at the list of possessions,' said Dalziel.

'Sorry?'

'When they took Burke in for cutting up, they'd empty his pockets and itemize the contents,' explained Dalziel with violent patience. 'Find the list and read it out.'

Hastily Pascoe sorted through the papers.

'Well!' demanded Dalziel.

'I have it. I have it. Wallet containing . . .'

'Stuff the wallet. Get on to the loose stuff.'

'Handkerchief. Small change. Car keys . . .'