He laughed his derision out loud.
'Suppose that old bird had taken a swing,' said Wield. 'And your head had got in the way?'
Patten considered and his expression became serious.
'Yeah, well, she's certainly got the upper-body development to get that thing moving… and there was a moment when I thought she was going to have a go for sure… but look, there has to be something else behind all this. I mean, you can piss around with the likes of Jimmy Howard because it suits you, but someone who talks like her. ..'
It was a crude but not altogether inaccurate analysis of what Pascoe would call the social dynamic of police investigation.
Wield said carefully, 'We should have checked the TV tapes earlier. That was an oversight. All I'm doing now is covering my back. And I would be particularly interested if you could watch with me and try to recall exactly what was being said.'
'Always keen to cooperate with the police, sergeant,' said Patten. 'Let's go take a look.' xiv
'If a condemned man has bad toothache on the eve of his execution, what does he spend the night thinking about?'
'Sorry, Peter?' said Lionel Harris. 'Is this relevant?'
'Oh yes,' said Pascoe. Doubly so. First, it dramatized his own dilemma in that ever since his conversation with Ellie, despite being landed with an inquiry which looked like tying in Andy Dalziel with a double killer, all he could think of was Hilary Studholme, junior and senior. He recalled his feeling the night the major called round that the man had had more to say, or not to say. Would he have come running so quickly merely to confirm that the Sergeant Pascoe his father had so unsuccessfully defended was Ada's father if that was all he knew? And why hadn't he mentioned his own family involvement?
No, there had to be more. There might be a clue in Poll Pollinger's digest, but Pascoe guessed it was going to take another trip to the regimental museum to get to the real bottom of this.
On a quieter day he might have bunked off, but today he owed it to Dalziel to keep his nose to the grindstone. If only he could keep his mind there too!
Then he'd been told that Cap Marvell's brief wanted a word and when he saw who it was, he'd known he needed all his wits about him.
Lionel Harris, familiarly known as 'Bomber', might be greyer round the temples and roomier round the waist than on their first encounter many years ago, but he was still the same sharp little man who'd made Pascoe look a twit (and without him noticing it!) on the young DC's very first appearance in a Mid-Yorkshire court.
So he chucked his disguised dilemma at the solicitor's head in an effort to wrong-foot him as soon as he came through the door.
'I've never come across a case of suicide while the balance of the molars was disturbed, so I assume that on the whole the greater fear would dominate the lesser pain.'
'I wonder,' said Pascoe thoughtfully. 'Still, it's always good to get a legal perspective. So how can I help you, Lionel?'
They had become friends, or at least, friendly foes over the years. But each knew the other had a different bottom line.
'I just wanted a word, off the record, about the position of my client, Amanda Marvell. You know how I hate making an official fuss
…'
'Oh yes. Printed in block capitals on the file we keep on you,' murmured Pascoe. 'Hates making a fuss.'
‘.. but in this case my client has cooperated fully. Nay, in my opinion she has cooperated to excess, making no complaint when she was kept in custody overnight, offering no threat of action for false imprisonment, refusing to let news of her maltreatment be released to the media, quietly answering all your questions, and enduring with restraint and dignity all the indignities heaped upon her. But enough is enough – '
'There we have no argument,' interrupted Pascoe. 'In fact, I doubt if I've ever heard you say a truer word. Enough is indisputably enough. But as I'm in charge of this case, it would seem a dereliction of my duty if I let Ms Marvell go without personally ascertaining that everything has been done by the book.'
'I'm sorry?' said Harris, alert. 'You say you're in charge, Peter? I thought Mr Dalziel…'
'Disqualified himself immediately on the grounds of personal involvement,' said Pascoe. 'But because he and Ms Marvell know each other socially, I thought it might make matters less stressful for her if she spoke to the superintendent to start with, under my supervision of course. I hope Ms Marvell hasn't found anything to upset her in this mode of procedure?'
'Well no,' said Harris who Pascoe guessed had been saving up his complaint about Dalziel's involvement as a final body blow. That he would know about the relationship, Pascoe was sure. From what Ellie had told him there had been too many of Mid-Yorkshire's great and good at the university party for Cap Marvell's escort not to have set their collective imagination reeling.
'Good. Then let's have the lady in, shall we?'
He had seen her distantly before, but never spoken to her. Close up, he found her rather heavy features, untouched by make-up after her night in the cell, disappointed any expectation he had of sharing Dalziel's sense of attraction. OK, she had great knockers if your fancy erred towards field sports, but she didn't light his touchpaper.
'I'm sorry if I'm a disappointment,' she said. 'But at least we neither of us can be accused of concealment, can we?'
He felt himself blushing. It was as if she'd overheard his pathetically macho thoughts. She'd certainly read his reaction on his face.
'I do hope not,' he managed in recovery. 'In fact, to make absolutely sure, I'd like to go over one or two things with you once more.'
Her steady wide-eyed gaze reminded him of someone; Miss Martindale, that was who. No other resemblance of age, figure or colouring, but that same sense of being in the presence of someone whose actions were based on rock hard certainties. Would Miss Martindale take a swing at anyone she felt was in the way of her duty to her pupils? Metaphorically, without doubt. Literally? If the kids were locked in cages and being experimented upon, yes, very probably. But the parallel was inexact. You couldn't compare kids and animals. Like Rosie, he might be tempted to hurl a stone at someone beating a dog, but it would take someone beating Rosie to turn him homicidal.
'You have a son, Ms Marvell,' he said.
'Yes.'
'I don't see what my client's family has to do with this,' said Harris.
'Really? But you must be aware that Colonel Pitt-Evenlode provides the alibi for one of the dates we're interested in? Surely you don't object to my referring to witnesses?'
'No, of course not…'
It was nice to bomb Bomber, thought Pascoe.
'Your son confirms your dinner engagement on the night in question. Neither of you were able to be very precise about the time you finished. Fortunately the restaurant credit-card system records time of transaction among all the other details. And even more fortunately they maintain their records. The colonel paid the bill at 9.32 p.m. This is rather earlier than either of your estimates. The colonel's was tennish, if I recall. And yours was, let me see, 10.00 to 10.30, plus another fifteen minutes to go to the cloakroom, get your coat et cetera, and make your way to the exit where your son had called a taxi.'
'Is there a point you are labouring towards, Peter?' asked Harris.
'Simply this. Ms Marvell's original estimate that she arrived home about 11.00 p.m. made it difficult for her to have changed – I presume that she would have changed – and driven out to Wanwood House to be involved in a break-in there, which the night watchman, who as you will recall was locked in his room with the telephone wires cut, recorded as commencing at a quarter past eleven.'
He was pleased to see his orotund style was irritating Harris. But an irritated Bomber is not a man you want to be in the same room as.
'Perhaps you could clear up a small point for me,' he said. 'On both these occasions my client had been wining and dining. No doubt, through bills at the restaurant and witnesses at the wedding, you can ascertain just
