sorted. Wieldy, you come with me. Let's see if we can give young Seymour a hand with Mr Swain's statement.'
He glanced at his watch.
'And I want the work to commence in exactly thirty minutes, right?'
'Why so precise?' inquired Pascoe. 'Because I want to make sure I'm looking straight into Mr Philip bloody Swain's eyes when he hears the drills start up again!'
CHAPTER TWO
It was not often that Andrew Dalziel admitted a tactical error, but as he sat in the interview room and listened to Sergeant Wield reading out the statement prior to Swain's signing it, it occurred to him that a clever dog didn't do the same trick twice.
He'd provoked a response from Swain by letting him overhear his request for the pneumatic drills. This time, might it not have been cleverer to get the slippery sod out of earshot rather than alerting him too soon to the continued search?
Wield's voice droned on.'. . . and I realize I was both committing and compounding a felony by aiding Arnie Stringer to conceal his son-in-law's body . . .'
Dalziel glanced at his watch. A minute to go. He'd left it too late. Swain was watching him. Perhaps he'd already alerted that sharp mind. He let his gaze lock with Swain's. There was no resistance, no effort to break free. The moment seemed timeless. But time had not stopped. Three storeys below in the car park, the drills suddenly chattered into life, and there was an exchange along their eye beams as telergetic as any ever experienced by enraptured lovers.
. . and I am prepared to accept the full legal consequences of my error of judgement,’ concluded Wield. That's it, sir. Would you care to sign?'
Swain broke the eye contact and bowed his head as though in prayer.
'No,’ he said softly. 'Not yet. I'm sorry, but the slate has got to be wiped completely clean, hasn't it? I know,
'Do what?' growled Dalziel. He knew now he'd been wrong. Don't play people at their own games. Clever buggers didn't play clever buggers with other clever buggers. Now he was speaking lines Swain had cued from him, but he didn't know how not to respond.
'Look for firm evidence of what I only suspect and fear.'
'Which is?'
'That Arnie Stringer might have killed Greg Waterson!'
'What?' Dalziel had been expecting nifty footwork but this took his breath away. Tactics forgotten, he spoke from the heart.
'You'd be better off flogging condoms to cardinals than trying to sell that one, Swain!'
Philip Swain nodded earnestly and said, 'Yes, I can see how hard it must be for you to grasp such an idea, Superintendent, but listen to what I've got to say before you pass final judgement. Arnie Stringer was always very loyal to me, and after I helped him with his son-in-law, he clearly felt deeply in my debt, emotionally I mean. When this tragic business of Gail's death occurred, he was desperate to do anything he could to console me. He blamed Greg Waterson entirely and made no secret of what he reckoned a man like that deserved. I found myself in the odd position of actually defending the man who'd seduced my wife and created the situation which led to her tragic death. But Arnie was a black-and-white man, and though he shut up, I should have realized he hadn't changed his mind when I asked him to follow Mrs Waterson that night.'
'Which night was this?' inquired Dalziel, yawning unconvincingly.
'The night she was meeting Greg. She told me he'd rung, you probably know that, and I was very keen to talk to him
'Why was that, then?' interrupted Dalziel.
'To get him to come forward, of course,' said Swain. 'I didn't know then that you already had a statement from Greg completely exonerating me. I know you have a difficult job to do, Superintendent, but I still feel that letting me suffer so long was an unnecessary cruelty.'
Dalziel closed his eyes for a moment in prayer, or perhaps pain.
'So you asked Arnie to follow Mrs Waterson?' he said. 'Why not go yourself?'
'She knew me by sight, and of course Greg knew me too. Being the kind of person he was, if he spotted me, I suspected he'd have taken off as fast as he could. I just wanted to find out where he was living so I could approach him privately and have a talk. So I asked Arnie if he could find out by following Mrs Waterson and he agreed.'
'What kind of vehicle did he use?' interposed Wield, ignoring Dalziel's malevolent glance.
'I don't know. The pick-up, I expect. Anyway I didn't see him that same evening. I had an appointment up near Darlington and as things worked out, I didn't get back till late.'
He paused and took a drink from the cup of cold coffee before him. Wield waited for Dalziel to demand details of this Darlington appointment, but the fat man stayed quiet till Swain resumed.
'Next morning when I got down here - that job was getting pretty near the end then, you'll remember - I found Arnie had made a really early start. I asked him what had happened the previous night. He said he'd followed Mrs Waterson to a pub, the Pilgrim's Salvation. He'd waited outside and seen her come out by herself. Then he'd hung around till closing time, watching for Waterson, but he must have missed him.'
'He didn't go in the pub?' said Dalziel.
'He said not. He wasn't a man who approved of public houses,' said Swain. 'So it made sense.
Only, well, even for Arnie he was rather brusque and off-hand about the whole business.'
'And that made you suspect he wasn't telling you the truth,' sneered Dalziel.
