Bones and Silence

resentment.

'I thought Chung would be making a speech,' he managed to slip into one of these pregnant pauses.

'I dare say she will, once her attention ceases to be so rudely monopolized,' said the Canon sharply.

'Who is that creature she's talking to, anyway?' asked the Professor. 'I didn't know they featured Sumo wrestling at the Kemble.'

This was a bit rich coming from the only man in the room who could have offered Dalziel the best of three falls.

'That,' said Pascoe, 'is Superintendent Andrew Dalziel, my boss, who will be glad to know that academic objectivity and Christian charity are still alive and well in the world. Excuse me.'

The belly and the elbows parted like the Red Sea and he moved away to join Ellie who was deep in conversation with a middle-aged, somewhat drab-looking woman in a tweed suit and sensible shoes.

'Hello,' said Ellie. 'Enjoying yourself?'

'I've just been squeezed between the two dullest men imaginable,' he said. 'And I'm much in need of light relief.'

'Yes, we noticed you in the corner,' said Ellie rather too brightly. 'Dorothy, this is my husband, Peter. Peter, this is Dorothy Horncastle.'

'Hello,' said Pascoe, not registering for a second. But Ellie left no doubt.

'Canon Horncastle's wife,' she said. 'Excuse me. I really must have a word with Councillor Wood about the coffee machine at the Unemployed Centre.'

It may have been intended as a tactful removal of her witness to Pascoe's embarrassment but all he felt was deserted.

'What I meant was not being into the mediaeval period myself, I couldn't really follow the ins and outs of a highly specialized discussion though I've no doubt that of itself...’

He stuttered to a stop under Dorothy Horncastle's gaze. It wasn't, he thought, a sophisticated coolness under-pinned by amusement at his embarrassment, but a genuine disinterest in his slighting of her husband.

'You're a policeman, I gather,' she said.

'Yes. CID.'

'One of Mr Dalziel's men?'

'That's right. You know the Superintendent?'

'Only by reputation,' she said. 'Is he an old friend of Miss Chung's?'

'No, though you'd think so, wouldn't you?' smiled Pascoe, looking to where the tete-a-tete was just being broken up by the irrepressible assault of the Press in the form of Sammy Ruddlesdin of the Evening Post.

'He has the reputation of being a man of surprising insight,’ said Dorothy Horncastle.

'Does he? I mean, yes, I suppose he does. Would you like to meet him?'

She considered, then smiled as if at some inner joke.

'Perhaps later,' she said.

Chung had left Dalziel to Ruddlesdin and was making her way towards them. She didn't stop, however, but said in passing, 'Hi, Dorothy. Pete,' and gave him a long-lashed wink and an almost imperceptible thumbs-up, before joining the mediaeval disputants. Unstone became a quivering jelly of delight, bowing over her hand to plant a reechy kiss. Even the gelid Canon, though making no attempt at a physical salute, thawed visibly in the solar energy of Chung's presence. Pascoe realized that Mrs Horncastle was watching the scene with great intensity. She could hardly be experiencing jealousy, could she?

He said, 'Well, Chung seems to have stopped them arguing, which is more than I could.'

'He thinks he's God,' she said.

'I'm sorry?'

'My husband thinks he's God.'

Pascoe re-examined the man in the light of this suggestion. He had to admit that, though on short acquaintance he had characterized the Canon as prissy, pratty, and priggish, he had stopped well short of paranoid.

'Is there any particular way in which he puts this belief to the test?' he inquired. 'I mean, miracles, levitation, that sort of thing?'

'What?' Suddenly the woman smiled away a decade. 'Oh no. I don't mean he is mentally deluded, Mr Pascoe. He simply believes that Miss Chung is going to ask him to be God in the Mysteries.'

'That's a relief,' said Pascoe, returning her smile. 'Though I fear he may prove to be deluded after all.'

It was a slip of the tongue he couldn't even blame on booze and she was on to it in a trice.

'Why do you say that? Has she got someone else for the part?'

'I don't know,' hedged Pascoe. 'I just heard a rumour she had someone else in mind.'

'Who?'

Certainly no word passed Pascoe's lips and he would have sworn that his face remained a blank, but somehow this surprisingly acute lady read his secret there, for suddenly she said, 'Mr Dalziel? You mean Mr Dalziel, don't you? Why, he's just perfect!' And let out a peal of such joyous laughter that her husband turned to glower at her as