alliteration.
'I didn't say that,' protested Pascoe.
'Look, lad,' said Dalziel, 'you spent the best part of yesterday morning with the man. Have them gold fillings finally rotted his brain or not? It wouldn't surprise a lot of folk. There's always been something not quite right about Elgood. Not marrying, and all those fancy waistcoats.'
'Queer, you mean?' said Pascoe
Dalziel looked at him in disgust.
'Don't be daft,' he said. 'He's tupped more typists in his in-tray than you've had hot dinners. There's many won't use a lav with his name on it for fear it makes a grab at them. No, he's just a bit eccentric, that's all. Nothing you'd look twice at in one of them walking adenoids from Eton; but from a miner's lad out of Barnsley, you expect plain dressing, plain speaking, and likely a plain wife and six plain kids.
‘He must be a great disappointment to all his friends,' agreed Pascoe. 'But he didn't strike me as at all unbalanced yesterday. I think he was genuinely reluctant to be making the accusation. He got it out very quick in general terms to start with, almost as though he wanted to commit himself. After that, it took a bit more time, but mainly because, once there was no going back, he relaxed and reverted to what by your account is his more normal mode of speaking.'
'Oh aye, he goes round the houses like a milkman's horse, Dick,' said Dalziel.
Pascoe smiled. His stomach suddenly rumbled and he recalled that he had missed his breakfast that morning. Ellie had been in a hurry, and when he discovered the cause and hinted a doubt whether a picket line was the right place for a nine-month-old-baby, what little time there might have been for the preparation of toast and coffee had been consumed in a heated discussion. Very heated, though not quite at flaming row temperature. Rain beat at the window of Dalziel's office. He hoped that Ellie wasn't still striding round somewhere with a banner above and little Rosie behind, dripping in her papoose basket. His stomach rumbled again.
'You should get up early enough to eat a cooked breakfast,' commented Dalziel. 'You're like something out of Belsen. Me, I was built up on eggs and rashers.'
He beat his stomach complacently and belched. Diets had failed to make any inroads on his waist and recently he had taken to citing his stoutness as evidence of health rather than the cause for concern his doctor believed.
'I should hope to learn from your example, sir. Now, about Elgood, what do you want me to do?'
It was a blunt question, arising from Pascoe's determination not to be left with the responsibility for examining or ignoring Dandy Dick's allegations.
'Let's have an action re-play of what you've got so far,' said Dalziel, leaning back and closing his eyes.
Pascoe risked a long-suffering sigh and said in a rapid and expressionless voice, 'The two alleged victims are Brian Bulmer, Perfecta's financial director, and Timothy Eagles, the Chief Accountant. Bulmer died in a car accident after the office Christmas party. No other vehicles involved, icy road, and his bloodstream showed up at nearly two hundred over the limit. Eagles had a heart attack in a washroom next to his office. The cleaner found him dead.'
'What's Dick say Aldermann's got to do with this?' interrupted Dalziel.
'I was getting to that. Aldermann was drinking with Bulmer at the party, or rather plying him with drink, according to Elgood. And he shared the washroom with Eagles.'
'Post mortem reports?'
'In Bulmer's case, death from multiple injuries, and the alcohol level noted. In Eagles's case, no post mortem. There was a previous history and his doctor was content to issue the certificate. No chance of back-tracking. They're both ash now.'
'Just as well, mebbe,' said Dalziel, yawning, 'Motive?'
Pascoe said, 'Ambition. Or rather, money.'
'Make up your mind!'
'Well, he doesn't reckon Aldermann's interested enough in his work to be ambitious, but he thinks he needs more money. Getting on the Board would shove his income up considerably.'
'But he must have known that he'd be competing against his immediate boss, this fellow, Eagles,' said Dalziel. 'Why not knock Eagles off first?'
'Elgood had worked all that out. His theory is that what Aldermann was after initially was just Eagles's job. He saw his chance to get Bulmer out of the way which would probably mean Eagles's elevation, leaving a gap for Aldermann to fill. It wasn't till after Bulmer's death, when certain anti-Elgood elements on the Board started talking about nominating Aldermann merely in order to annoy and embarrass the Chairman, that he got the scent of a bigger prey.'
'Bloody hell,' said Dalziel, opening his eyes and sitting upright. 'And Dick really believes this?'
'That's why he was here. Though I think the more he talked it through - which was a great deal
'Oh, he'd do that all right, would Dick,' grunted Dalziel. 'But there must've been something brought it on in the first place.'
'Two things,' said Pascoe. 'Evidently he had some kind of row with Aldermann last Friday. He made it clear to Aldermann that even though Eagles was dead, he was still going to block his elevation to the Board. He had to go out to a meeting then, leaving Aldermann in his office. Later he returned and worked well into the evening, long enough to need his desk lamp on. It's one of those Anglepoise things. He pressed the switch and got hit by an electric shock which knocked him out of his chair. He recovered pretty quickly - he's very fit for his age, he says, does a lot of swimming - and he put it down to a bad connection. But yesterday morning something else happened. He went to get his car out of the garage. It's got one of those up-and-over doors. It seemed to be a bit stiff so he gave it a big heave and next thing, it came crashing down on top of him. Fortunately he's a pretty nifty mover. He dropped flat and the door crashed on to the boot of his car. I've seen the dent it made and he can count himself
