Deadheads

'One step's often enough,' said Dalziel.

'We're all permitted one bit of stupidity, sir,' said Pascoe. 'Anyway, there's something else.'

Briefly he recounted what Daphne had told him at Rosemont.

Dalziel sniffed, rubbed his nose and winced.

'That's something,' he said grudgingly. 'That explains a few things.'

'A lot,' said Pascoe firmly.

'You're recommending we wrap it up, are you?'

'We have no complainant, no evidence of crime, nothing!' said Pascoe.

The internal telephone rang. Wield picked it up and listened.

'Sir,' he said to Dalziel, 'there's a Mr Masson to see you.'

'Masson! The solicitor? What's he want?' asked Pascoe.

Dalziel made a face. It wasn't pretty.

'Acting on information received,' he intoned, 'mainly from you, Inspector, indicating you believed Masson wasn't coming clean with us, I rang the old sod at his golf club and told him he'd better get his arse down here if he didn't want to be retrospectively struck off. Or words to that effect.'

'Oh dear,' said Pascoe.

'Now you tell me that the case is closed,' said Dalziel. 'Perhaps you'd like to talk to him?'

'No, thanks,' said Pascoe.

'Tell 'em to wheel him in,' Dalziel said to Wield. Christ, is there nothing we can charge anyone with? Have you been right through the index in the big book?'

'We might try Elgood and Mandy Burke with perjury?' suggested Pascoe. 'Or perhaps she actually gave the ladder a push . . .'

'Do you really believe that? No? Nor do I. Accident. Perjury now, they'd have to cough in front of witnesses, and they're not going to do that, are they? No, the lines I was thinking on were that Aldermann spotted Burke and Elgood making off after lunch at the White Rose and gave the husband a ring in the hope he'd catch them in the stirrups. Good as a killing, that. He'd not be likely to stay on at Perfecta, would he? Still, now you've washed him whiter than snow, that's buggered that, hasn't it?'

There was a tap at the door. Wield opened it and Masson stepped in. He was wearing a red sports shirt and checked trousers.

'Right, Inspector Pascoe, that'll do for now, but I'll want to talk to you later,' said Dalziel sternly. 'Mr Masson, good of you to come!'

Pascoe and Wield left. As Pascoe closed the door he heard the beginning of Dalziel's conversation.

'Promising lad, that Pascoe, but a bit overkeen sometimes. I'm sorry if he's been bothering you about the Mrs Highsmith business.'

'What business is that?' said Masson sharply.

'You're not still her solicitor, are you?' said Dalziel. 'You'll understand then, I really can't say. Of course, if she herself wanted to see you . . .'

He nodded significantly at the wall, as if suggesting Penelope were chained to the other side of it. It was simply his intention to get rid of Masson with minimum aggro, but it was already striking him as curious that the man hadn't come in with all guns blazing indignation. He decided to try the all-boys-together line. Besides, he felt in need of sustenance.

'What about a drink?' he said. 'And a little chat off the record.'

He took a huge key from his pocket, opened the cupboard in his desk and produced a bottle of Glen Grant and two glasses which he filled to the brim.

'Here's health,' he said.

They drank.

'Of course,' he went on, but not sure where he was going, 'you were Mrs Highsmith's solicitor after she inherited the house, weren't you? There was all that business about the disappeared will . . .'

For a moment he thought he was going to get the expected explosion from Masson but then the old man relaxed and drank deeply from his glass.

'Look,' he said. 'I'm not absolutely sure what this is all about, but there are some things it might help you to know, only . . .'

'Only . . .?'

'Between these four walls?'

'Of course. You have my word,' said Dalziel solemnly.

'All right then,' said Masson, taking a deep breath.

What came was an anti-climax.

'I've no idea what happened to the will,' said Mr Masson.