Then he got out and walked back to where Park was now standing on the pavement talking to Govan, the shop- keeper. Jollity had resumed its rightful place and the man greeted him effusively, 'Sorry about that, Mr Pascoe. Thought you were some half-baked twit wanted to leave his car there while he popped in to Mr Govan's for a bag of ginseng. As a matter of fact I was just on my way to look you up. Mr Govan said you'd called and as I'm a bird of rare passage so to speak, I thought I'd better check it out.'
It wasn't a local nor any kind of northern accent. Pascoe thought he detected a West Country burr overlaid with something closer to London.
'That was very good citizenly of you, Mr Park,' he replied.
'Self-interest. I don't want to have a heart attack because you decide to flag me down on the motorway,' he said with a hearty laugh. 'Step inside out of the weather.'
Pascoe found himself ushered into a narrow and smelly passage alongside the shop and through a flaking door. Here Park paused to empty a box stuffed full of what looked like junk mail before leading the way up a flight of creaking and uncarpeted stairs and through another door which decoratively was the twin of that below.
After all this squalor, the flat was a pleasant surprise. A single large living-room, with kitchenette and shower- room off, it was freshly decorated and comfortably appointed.
‘This is nice,' said Pascoe.
'Isn't it,' said Park proudly. 'I like to leave it scruffy outside. I'm away such a lot, the less attractive it looks to the criminal fraternity the better. Am I right or am I right, Mr Pascoe?'
'Very wise. I gather you're a traveller, Mr Park.'
'That's right. Veterinary products. It's pretty specialized so a small patch is no use to me. When I've got something good to sell, I've got to push it as wide as I can if I'm to live as well as I like, so draw a line south of the Wash and north of Carlisle, that's my area. Can I get you a cup of tea?'
He went into the kitchenette without waiting for an answer. Pascoe picked up an ornately carved rosewood box from the table, opened it and studied its contents. Two safety-pins, a button and a china thimble. After a moment he sensed he was being studied in his turn. Looking up, he saw Park smiling at him from the kitchenette.
'Sorry,' he said closing the box. 'Habit.'
That's all right. You look at whatever you like, my son. I've got some nice stuff. Morocco, that's where that box came from. I always like to bring something nice back from abroad. Poke around the cupboards. God knows what you'll find.'
Pascoe didn't accept the invitation but he did walk around the room peering at some rather pleasant water- colours of local scenery. There was only one window and it overlooked the back yards and loading areas of the String Lane shops. Immediately below he spotted Mr Govan's ginger mop. The Scot was closing the rear door of a small blue van. He then walked round to the driver's door, halted, looked down, and swung his foot at the front wheel. It was impossible to hear what he was saying, but the mime was so perfect that Pascoe had no difficulty in imagining the rich Scots oaths that greeted his discovery of the flat tyre.
'Sugar?'
'No, thanks,' he said turning. He sat down in a comfortable white leather chair and sipped the excellent tea which Park offered him.
'Now what can I do for the police?' said the traveller.
'Last night I believe you were drinking at the Pilgrim's Salvation,' said Pascoe.
'That's right. But not too much,' said Park defensively.
'I'm pleased to hear it. Do you use the Sally a lot, Mr Park?'
'Occasionally. No more than three or four other pubs.'
'And was there any special reason you chose it last night?'
'No. I just fancied a drink and the Sally popped into my mind.'
'So you weren't meeting anyone there?'
'No. What's this all about, Mr Pascoe? You're getting me worried.'
'No need,' smiled Pascoe. 'The two men who got into your car with you when you left, who were they?'
Park looked at him in amazement, with a pink edge of indignation.
'What is this?' he demanded. 'Am I being watched or something?'
'Nothing like that,' said Pascoe. 'The men?'
'I don't know, do I? I was leaving and I said, anyone want a lift towards the centre? and these two chaps said thanks very much.'
'You always offer complete strangers lifts?'
'I didn't say they were complete strangers, did I? We'd got talking, half a dozen of us, chewing the fat the way you do in a pub. These two, one was called Bob and the other Geoff. I dropped 'em off together at the corner of the market place. You're not telling me they were wrong 'uns, are you? I can't believe it!'
Pascoe shook his head slightly and said, 'There was another man with you outside the pub. He didn't get in the car but walked off by himself.'
'Oh, him. What was his name? Glen, I think. He joined in the chat and left the same time I did. I offered him a lift but he said no, he was going in the other direction. Is it him you're interested in?'
'Possibly. When he left you outside, you didn't get any hint of where precisely he might be heading?'
Park thought a while then shook his head.
