Bones and Silence

'I didn't know God was short-sighted,' said Pascoe.

'Shit, I thought everybody knew that!'  said Chung. 'Watch how you go with him. His mind's not on the job this morning and I've had to give him a kick or two. He's about ready to start chucking thunderbolts.'

The picture of Chung kicking Dalziel was so delightful that Pascoe laughed as he reluctantly moved away. Meeting Chung always made him feel good.

Meeting Dalziel on the other hand wasn't so invariably pleasant.

'I'm sorry to interrupt,' he said.

'I doubt it,' snarled Dalziel, not looking up. 'But it can likely be arranged. What do you want? Forgotten how to wipe your nose?'

If not a thunderbolt, it was certainly a very torrid blast.

'Things going well, I hope, sir?' said Pascoe with unctuous solicitude.

Now Dalziel looked up.

'No,' he said. 'They're not, as mebbe yon Chung's told you already. You two look very matey. I hope you're behaving yourself, lad. Man with a wife and kiddie should look for his naughties with a discreet widow in another town.'

The old sod's jealous, thought Pascoe with a shame-making pang of triumphal delight.

'I'm sorry you're having trouble,' he said. 'Is it the lines?'

'No, it's not just the lines. I can make up the lines. It's the whole bloody daft business! How the hell I got myself into it in the first place I'll never know.'

Pascoe made his face a blank and said, 'It'll be all right on the night, I'm sure. But there was something I thought you would like to know about Swain...’

'Swain! That bugger. It's him that's been on my mind all morning. Here's me playing God and I can't even nail one miserable bloody sinner. What's he done now?'

'Nothing that I know of, but there has been an accident.'

He gave what details he could. Dalziel rose, stuffing his script into his pocket.

‘There's altogether too many accidents happen around that sod,' he said, his eyes gleaming. 'It's time I arranged a few of my own.'

'I know you want to keep him in the frame for his wife's death . . .'

'The frame I want to keep him in's got bars on it and a sign on the door saying 'not wanted on voyage'.'

'Andy, where are you going? We're ready to start again.'

It was Chung blocking their path. Now this is true elemental drama, thought Pascoe. The irresistible force and the immovable object.

'Sorry, luv. This is urgent. Deathbed deposition, likely. And as it's not Lazarus, I'd best get a move on.'

'For Christ sake, Andy! Can't Pete here handle it? You've got any number of highly qualified staff but I've got only one God!'

She was gorgeously angry, and using a joke to keep it under control.

'Some things are too important to be left to the help,' said Dalziel portentously. 'Anyroad, God is everywhere, isn't that what the Bible says? So really I'm not going at all, am I?'

It was all rather disappointing. Suddenly the immovable object stepped aside and the irresistible force swept on.

'Sorry,' said Pascoe with a ruefully apologetic smile.

'For what? He was no use to us today anyway.

‘Perhaps I should have gone for you after all, Pete,' said Chung.

It was, he hoped, another controlling joke, but he didn't stay to find out.

Wield was waiting for them at the main entrance to the Infirmary.

'They're still working on him,' he said. 'I've spoken to Swain. He's so cut up it's hard to make sense of him, but what seems to have happened is, he was working the JCB on the steepest bit of Crimper's Knoll when it began to slide. Stringer was down the slope a ways. When he realized what was happening he tried to get out of the way but the ground was still slippery from the overnight rain, and he lost his footing and the JCB went over him. Mrs Stringer and the daughter are up in the waiting-room on the surgery ward.'

'How're they?' asked Pascoe.

'Holding on,' said Wield. 'It's Swain who looks like he's falling apart.'

'That's how I like 'em,' said Dalziel, rubbing his hands. 'Wieldy, you've got somewhere I can talk to him?'

'Sister lent me an office. He's still in there.'

'Right. Show me. Peter, you've got a nice sympathetic smile. You go and keep the Stringers company.'

'I doubt if sympathetic smiles are what they want right now,' said Pascoe.

'Jesus,' said Dalziel. 'I'm not asking you to pay asocial call. Go and talk to them and see if they know anything!'

'What about?'