Bones and Silence

And that's how he stayed. It's clear he wasn't cut out to be one of Mrs T's success stories. He still lives in one of the few Moscow farm cottages still standing and it was natural that when Philip took over he should push the basic re-building work his way. It was equally natural that when Philip started looking for an entree into the construction business, he should opt for energizing his old schoolmate's firm. Stringer's trade expertise, Swain's social contacts, it was potentially a winning combination.'

'You approved?' said Dalziel.

'I felt there were worse ways for him to invest his lump sum,' said Thackeray carefully. 'He is a Swain, after all, and I was fearful he might just pour his redundancy pay-off down some empty gold mine.'

'And since then?' said Dalziel refilling their glasses.

'Since then, what?'

'Well, this winning combination hasn't exactly been bothering Wimpey's, has it? As far as I can make out, doing our car park and garages is the biggest job they've ever had. And like I say, my lad, Pascoe, reckons there's not a lot of money in the bank. Though likely things'll be different now his missus has been sent off?'

'Andrew,' said the lawyer warningly.

'Just thinking aloud,' said Dalziel. 'Another thing strikes me. Situated like he was, married into the family and all, he must have been a right useless wanker for Delgado's to turn him off like a factory hand.'

'That is where you're wrong,' said Thackeray. 'I happen to know that Swain was offered a top executive post with an excellent salary at head office in Los Angeles.'

'But he couldn't bear to leave sunny Currthwaite, is that it?'

'Partly, yes,' said the lawyer seriously. 'But there was something else which may help you understand the quality of the man. Because they did not trust his native loyalties, Philip was not made privy to Delgado's plans. When news of the closure came out, he was enraged.'

'Was he now? Aye, he struck me as a good actor too.'

'This was no act, believe me,' urged Thackeray. 'You ask the unions involved. There's not one of them will hear a bad word against Swain.'

'So you're telling me Swain jacked in his sinecure with Delgado's as an act of solidarity with his downtrodden comrades?' said Dalziel.

'Andrew, I'm not telling you anything,' said Thackeray, suddenly aware how far he'd let himself be led in discussing his client's background. 'I'm merely passing the time of day till whatever obstacle lies in the way of my immediate interview with my client is removed. With another kind of officer I might by now have grown suspicious. But if one member of the Gentlemen's Club cannot trust another, what is the world coming to? Incidentally, talking of the Gents, I gather you have not yet taken up your allocation of Ball tickets, so I have brought them along. They are in great demand so any you do not want for your own guests will be easily disposable. It's twenty-five pounds the double ticket, so that will be two hundred and fifty pounds.'

'Christ,' said Dalziel. 'When we were lads, you could go to a good hop, with a guaranteed jump after, if it weren't raining, all for one and six. And she paid for her own.'

'That was a long time ago, long enough for the present good cause to seem not unattractive, perhaps. Think of it as an investment.'

Dalziel glared at him balefully as he wrote a cheque. The Gents were sponsoring the Mayor's Spring Charity Ball which this year was in aid of the local Hospice Appeal fund. He tossed the cheque over the table and said, 'I'll just go and see what's holding things up.'

'Take your time,' said Thackeray, reaching for the Islay.

Dalziel went down to No. 2 interview room feeling irritated. Things weren't going smoothly. First of all the police doctor's late arrival had necessitated keeping Thackeray occupied, a tactic which had so far cost him two hundred and fifty pounds and a deal of malt. Then had come Pascoe's message that Moscow Farm was clean. And finally he'd just been told on the phone that the doctor could find no signs of addiction, physical or psychological, on Swain.

The builder was looking weary but still in control. Dalziel, aware of Thackeray's imminence, came straight to the point.

'How long had your wife been a drug addict, Mr Swain?'

Swain made no effort at shock or indignation but shook his head and said, 'So this is what this has all been about?'

'You knew about her habit, then?'

'She was my wife, for God's sake. How couldn't I know? All right, she had a problem but she'd kicked it.'

'That's not what the pathologist says.'

'You mean she was snorting again? No, I didn't know.'

'Snorting? No, lad, not snorting. She'd got more perforations than a sheet of stamps,' exaggerated Dalziel.

His reaction was startling. He stared at Dalziel incredulously and cried, 'You what? Injecting, you mean? Oh Christ! The bastard!'

And as he spoke these words he smashed his left fist hard into his right palm, you could see the knuckle prints. This was genuine beyond histrionics. But who was he thumping? wondered Dalziel.

'This bastard, who is he?' he asked gently. 'Do you mean Waterson?'

'What? No. Of course not. He's not the type. There's no way it could be him.' He didn't sound very convincing.

'Supplying the drugs, you mean?'

'Yes. That's the bastard I want.'