Bones and Silence

leaving the hospital. She had denied any knowledge of her husband's intentions or whereabouts, and agreed to make herself available for a longer interview at the end of her shift.

Dalziel leaned forward and said, 'Talking of Waterson, what do you reckon to him, Mr Swain? Setting aside the fact he were knocking off your wife.'

Swain looked at him in amazement and Pascoe tensed his muscles to intervene. Then Swain shook his head and said, 'I'd heard about you, Dalziel, but no one got close to the reality.'

Dalziel looked modestly pleased and said, 'Well, like they say, only God can make a tree. So? Waterson?'

'I don't know. He seemed all right. Lively. Pretty bright. Not a good payer, but who is these days?'

'I hope you'll not have any bother when you finish our car park and garages,' said Dalziel righteously. 'Had to twist his arm a bit, did you?'

'I had to bill him a few times and give him a couple of phone calls.'

'No solicitor's letters delivered by a pair of brickies with a German Shepherd?'

'You've been attending too many trials,' said Swain. 'If anything, I went more than usually easy with Waterson. I felt some sympathy with him. He was like me a couple of years back, trying to set up by himself after he'd been made redundant, and I know how careful you've got to be with the money then. Also I gather his wife left him. There's ironic for you! I felt sorry for the bastard because his wife had left him and she probably did it because she found he was screwing around with mine!'

'Mebbe so. You met her, did you?'

'Mrs Waterson? Only once. The day the job started. I got the distinct impression that was the first she knew of it. I never saw her again but I'm not around all the time. Arnie Stringer, my partner, usually takes care of on-site supervision.'

'Does he now? Now that is good news, Mr Swain.'

'What do you mean?'

'Nowt, except it's a comfort to know your men will be able to get on with our garages while we've got you banged up in here,' said Dalziel cheerfully.

It was not the worst of his provocations but it was the one that hit the button. Swain shot to his feet and shouted, 'You great lump of blubber, I've had enough of this. I don't have to sit here listening to your loutish maunderings. Can't you get it into your thick skull, she was my wife, and she's dead, and I blame myself. . . she's dead, and I blame . . .'

As rapidly as he had risen, he slumped in his chair again, pressed his face into his hands and his whole body went into a spasm of almost silent sobbing.

Dalziel viewed the scene with the detachment of a first-night critic, belched, stood up and said, 'I don't know about you lot, but my belly feels like me throat's been slit. Lunch.'

Outside he said, 'He's good. Best free show since Crippen broke down at his wife's funeral.'

'That's a bit hard,' protested Pascoe. 'He's got good cause to be upset.'

'You mean, because I'm on to his nasty game?' growled Dalziel.

Pascoe grimaced and said, 'Look, sir, with this statement of Waterson's in the files ... I know there's a bit of difference, but with two of them on more or less the same lines...’

'Aye, it is odd, that,' said Dalziel deliberately misunderstanding. 'Wieldy, you've had the rare privilege of seeing both these buggers while they're compos mentis. How do you read it? Any chance of 'em being a pair of poofs cooking up this Irish stew between 'em?'

Was the question more or less offensive for being addressed to a gay? And did it make any difference that Wield had received a measure of protection from Dalziel when others were ready to ladle on the persecution with generous hand?

Wield said, 'I'd say no, they're not gay. Though they're not always easy to spot, are they? Incidentally, I ran them both through the computer just in case no one else heard your instructions last night, sir.'

Is he being cheeky? wondered Dalziel, who was notorious for his distrust of any form of intelligence that couldn't sup ale. 'Man who lets a key witness go missing should think twice before he's cheeky. All right, lad, what did the Mighty Wurlitzer say?'

'Nothing known about Swain,’ said Wield. 'But Waterson lost his driving licence last week.'

'Oh, great,' mocked Dalziel. 'That changes everything, that does.'

'What did he do, Wieldy?' asked Pascoe defensively.

'Nowt really. He'd totted up penalty points pretty regularly for motor offences, but a couple of weeks back he got flashed because one of his rear lights was on the blink and he took off like a jet. They picked him up later all apologetic, thought he'd probably be drunk, but he was well inside the limit. So they did him for speeding and that put him over the top.'

'For crying out loud!' said Dalziel in exasperation. 'Can't either of you contribute owt useful? Peter, what do you reckon to these two?'

'I've not met Waterson,’ Pascoe pointed out. 'But he sounds . . . wayward.'

'Wayward, eh?' said Dalziel. 'I'll make a note. And Swain? Does he sound wayward too?'

'No, but he sounds a very odd kind of small-time builder.'

'What? Too educated, you mean? You'd best not let yourself be heard talking like that at home else you'll be washing your mouth out with carbolic. But I know what you mean. He's a very odd kind of fellow all round. Has to be if he thinks he can get the better of me! But we're wasting good drinking time. We'll have to postpone your celebration, but...’