Bones and Silence

own admission, our Dark Lady is bright enough to understand much of this and to have chosen a single channel for all these urges to self-betrayal.'

'But why pick Mr Dalziel as that channel?'

'Several reasons. She states some of them. Your beloved leader has a reputation as a hard man. She doesn't want to pick on a bleeding heart, she doesn't want to give pain. Above all, she wishes to be in control of her situation, and I'm sure she believes that she's writing to Dalziel to maintain this control.'

'You say she believes,' said Pascoe, frowning. 'You mean there's something else?'

'Very sharp,' applauded Pottle. 'Look at it this way: even the most random human choice usually has its reasons that reason does not perceive; in this case the obvious reason for writing to Mr Dalziel is the obvious reason! He is a detective, a chief of detectives. His job is to find things out, to track down fugitives, to rip the mask off those who would remain hidden and unidentified. See how frequently she refers to his function, his expertise. She is at the same time appealing for discovery and offering him a challenge, inviting him to play her game. Or perhaps take part in her gamble. You see, by invoking the law of chance she distances the act of personal decision.'

He paused. Pascoe said, 'So how do we take up this challenge?'

Pottle replied. 'That's your business, I'm afraid. Sorry, I don't mean to be rude. All I mean is that, while I hope I've been of some help, I suspect that in the end because of their addressee, any clues these letters contain will be such as your own professional expertise can best decipher.'

'Thanks for telling me to do my job,' smiled Pascoe.

'And now perhaps you'll leave me to do mine, unless there's anything else?'

'Now you mention it,' said Pascoe. 'And while we're talking about suicide . . .'

As succinctly as he could, he gave the facts of the Gail Swain case. Pottle listened without interrupting for the space of two cigarettes.

'Right,' he said when Pascoe finished. 'Let's start at the heart of the matter. Question: could Gail Swain have chosen to kill herself in this way on this occasion? Answer: why not? She would, of course, have had to be contemplating suicide for some time. You say she had no close friends in whom she might have confided. But rich Californians are conditioned to turn to poor psychiatrists in times of trouble, are they not? Cherchez le shrink. She vanished for a few days before turning up at Hambleton Road, you say. Perhaps she spent them on some Harley Street couch and then decided if she was going to be lying on her back she might as well get some pleasure out of it. But she likes to have with her at all times the means of opting out. With some people this means a bottle of pills. With her, a gun freak, it would naturally mean guns. But why that gun when she had other, less cumbersome weapons? I'd have been surprised if in these circumstances she hadn't gone for the biggest, the heaviest, the deadliest. For self-defence, you go for speed and ease of use. For self-destruction you want to be sure. As for the particular occasion, if in her depressed condition she believed the men in her life were the root of all evil, then the sudden appearance of both of them side by side could have provided an irresistible audience. Or it could even be that she herself contrived that audience. You say that the husband turned up as the result of an anonymous call from a woman? For some people disguising the voice is not difficult, especially with British Telecom's special distorting devices.'

Pascoe, who had been jotting down notes, smiled and said, 'What about the drug element?'

'An effect as much as a cause from the sound of it,' said Pottle. 'It can only lend strength to the suicide scenario. But from what you say, you have difficulty in that the Witch-Finder General Dalziel sees things very differently. I could easily supply you with a sketch of the paranoid personality which would explain all, but I don't want to upset your sense of loyalty. So let's ask, could he be right? In which case Swain and Waterson would have to be in cahoots, or one of them have such a grip over the other that he was forced to obey. You ask me why Waterson should vanish. I can think of so many reasons, from amnesia to insolvency, that speculation without more information is useless. More interesting is why Swain should choose to kill his wife in this way. A conspiracy removes mere sexual jealousy as a motive. It also suggests he knew in advance that she wasn't going straight to America. But it's all too complicated. If he wants rid of her merely to inherit her money, say, there are any number of domestic accidents which are relatively easy to contrive. Why take the risk of involving a third party at all? No, all the evidence suggests, particularly in the light of your own interesting little experiment, that Mr Dalziel is absolutely and comprehensively wrong. But I don't envy you the task of so persuading him!'

Pascoe laughed and said, 'Me neither. Thanks a lot.'

He stood up and winced. His leg tended to stiffen up if he forgot to keep it moving.

Pottle said, 'How is it, being back in harness?'

Pascoe had been treated at the Central and Pottle had visited his sick-bed on a couple of occasions.

'I'm not sure yet. Sometimes it's like I've never been away. Then the leg creaks. Or the mind.'

'You came close to death,' said Pottle. 'You shouldn't forget it.'

'I doubt if I'll do that,' said Pascoe wryly.

'I mean, don't try to forget it. For your own sake. Also, it could help you helping others. This Dark Lady of yours, for instance. You may know more about her kind of darkness than you imagine.'

Pascoe frowned at this uncomfortable thought.

He said, 'I do wonder, have we got a right to interfere?'

'Perhaps not,' said Pottle. 'But when someone challenges you to a game, you've got a right to play. And if you've got a right to play, you've got a right to win!'

CHAPTER THREE

There is a pleasure in keeping a secret, and an equal if opposite pleasure in passing one on. But there are few things more annoying than to find that the secret you have nursed in your bosom beyond reach of nudge or wink is common currency.

As Pascoe left the station that evening, George Broomfield fell into step beside him and said, 'Is it right then he's going to do it?'

He rolled his eyes expressively upwards. The mime was ambiguous but there was a quality or perhaps quantity of he which identified the man beyond reasonable doubt.