Bones and Silence

'How'd he look?'

'Not happy. I asked him if he'd had any luck at the Sally and he said the landlord was as helpful as a knitted noddy, and his ale was lousy too.'

'Bad as that! I'll let him alone for a bit, I think.'

'He's got company anyway,' said Broomfield.

'Oh? Who?'

The sergeant shrugged and said, 'Who knows? He was on the desk when they turned up.'

He nodded towards the inner office where PC Hector sat, his head bowed over a typewriter with the rapt concentration of a chimpanzee wondering how best to start Hamlet.

Pascoe sighed and went on his way.

He was mildly curious as to the identity of Dalziel's visitors, though it wasn't an itch that required immediate scratching. But as he reached the CID floor he heard the cry of a wounded mastodon. His expert ear identified its root emotion as rage. Normal procedure was to lock yourself in a cupboard until you knew its object, but for once feeling safe, he indulged his curiosity by tapping at the Superintendent's door, sticking his head inside and asking, 'Did you call, sir?'

The mystery of the visitors was solved. They were Philip Swain and Eden Thackeray. The solicitor smiled at him. Swain, who looked pale and haggard, ignored him. And Dalziel snarled, 'No, I bloody didn't, but now you're here, you'd best come in. I'd like a witness if, as seems bloody likely, I'm about to be slandered!'

'Please, please,' said Thackeray suavely. There can be no slander because there are no accusations. To clear the air, let me say at the outset that we do not dispute that my client gave his statement voluntarily, there was no question of coercion, and everything was done according to the rules.'

'Thank you very much,' growled Dalziel.

'Now all he wants to do, voluntarily, without coercion, and strictly following the rules, is modify that statement slightly,' continued the solicitor.

'Is that all?' said Dalziel with heavy sarcasm.

‘I have here copies of his revised statement. Perhaps I should read it to you so that any problems of comprehension or interpretation may be ironed out.'

The solicitor put on a pair of hornrimmed spectacles and coughed drily behind his hand. It was clear to Pascoe that besides serving his client's needs, he was really enjoying himself.

He began to speak.

'I should stress in preamble that the statement is exactly as Mr Swain dictated it, free from my own or anyone else's emendation or intervention.'

He coughed once more and began reading.

''When Superintendent Dalziel brought me to the station on the night Gail died, I think I was in a state of shock. Everything felt so unreal, distant, unimportant. Everything except Gail's death, that is. This state of shock continued for some time after that night but it wasn't till I went to see my doctor on Mr Thackeray's advice that it was diagnosed.

''I shall always feel I bear some guilt for Gail's death. Somehow I must have failed her. And perhaps if I hadn't rushed round to Waterson's house that night, things could have been worked out. Whatever the truth of the matter, I now see that in my first statement these feelings warped my judgement and my memory to the point where I wanted to assume total guilt, even stretching beyond the moral and psychological to the physical, and claim that my hand was actually on the gun when it went off. Now I can recollect and more importantly admit what really happened.

''When Gail started waving the gun around, it was Waterson not me who made a grab at it. Perhaps he felt threatened, perhaps his sole concern was to prevent her from doing herself harm. I don't know. All I know is that the gun went off and Waterson seemed to go to pieces. He staggered away from Gail with the gun in his hand. I took it from him for fear he might inadvertently fire it again and cause further harm. He collapsed against the wall and I remained where I was, clearly in a state of shock, till Mr Dalziel arrived.

''I am not attempting to evade responsibility by modifying my original statement, merely to record the exact truth, for I now see this must be the first step in my attempt to come to terms with my loss, my grief, my guilt.''

Thackeray stopped reading and said, 'That is my client's revised and movingly frank statement, which I am sure you will accept in the spirit in which it is offered.'

Dalziel, who had listened like a country squire at a Lenten sermon, yawned widely and said, 'Aye, I think I can promise that much.'

'Thank you,' said Thackeray. 'No doubt the other witness, Mr Waterson, will confirm this version of events in his statement when it becomes available.'

Oh, you cunning old devil! Pascoe thought admiringly. Somehow you've got wind of Waterson's statement, or perhaps you've simply made an inspired guess. Here was an adversary truly worthy of Dalziel!

'We're still trying to locate Mr Waterson,’ said Dalziel evasively.

'Strange what heavy weather you're making of it,' said Thackeray. 'And I fail to see why Mr Waterson's absence, however motivated, should further delay an early settlement of this matter. Common humanity cries out for the inquest to be resumed and the remains to be released to next-of-kin. My client has suffered too much already.'

'Not at our hands,' said Dalziel. 'You said yourself, everything were by the book.'

'Indeed it was,' agreed the solicitor. 'Nothing was missed. Except perhaps a few opportunities. For instance, when you called in your doctor to look at Mr Waterson on the night of the accident, you