“I was just going to tidy up and then head back down to the hospital,” he said.
“Won’t take a minute,” said Pascoe, stepping lightly but inexorably into the house. “How’re they all doing?”
“Fine, they’re fine.”
“Good. And you’re enjoying the lull before the storm.”
“The storm?”
“When you bring them home. I remember what it was like with one, and you’ve got two. It’s great, of course, but there’s no getting away from it, things feel a bit hectic to start with. You got some help? Your family? Helen’s?”
They were in a big lounge now. Novello liked the colour scheme. Lovely deep soft furniture and a shag-pile carpet your feet sank into. Shag pile. Oh yes.
“My mother’s dead,” he said shortly. “And Helen’s family haven’t exactly been close over the years. Except for Kay. Mrs Kafka, Helen’s stepmother. She’s said she’ll come round and help out all she can.”
“Oh good. Not the wicked stepmother then?”
“No, she’s great. What did you want to talk to me about, Mr Pascoe?”
“Just to get the sequence of events right about the other night. The coroner likes his tees dotted and his eyes crossed. So if you don’t mind. Better now before the family comes home and you don’t have a minute!”
Pascoe was glad Ellie wasn’t around to hear this breezy old-hand dad act, but it seemed to relax Dunn.
“OK. Shoot.”
“Your squash game was arranged for seven, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“And you usually met at what time?”
“Twenty to, quarter to seven.”
“In the changing room?”
“Yes.”
“And what time did you start getting worried at?”
“When it got to seven, I suppose.”
“He was usually pretty punctual, was he, Mr Maciver?”
“Not bad.”
“So what did you do?”
“I tried to ring him on his mobile. But it was switched off. Then I tried his shop phone. No reply. Finally I rang Sue-Lynn, that’s Mrs Maciver, to see if she’d heard anything.”
“That would be about five past seven?”
“Five past, ten past.”
“And then, a bit later, I rang home in case he’d left a message there.”
“A bit later?”
“Towards half past.”
“Not straight after you rang Sue-Lynn?”
“No. I wandered round a bit, thinking he might still turn up.”
“Then you went home?”
“Not straightaway. Wednesday nights Kay comes round, it’s a sort of girls’ night in and I know how much Helen looks forward to it, so I didn’t go home till after nine.”
“Find anyone else to have a bang around with?” said Novello.
“Sorry.”
“I thought you might have looked for another partner. You did have a court booked, didn’t you? Evenings, a free slot’s worth its weight in balls.”
“You play, do you?” said Dunn, giving her the look again.
“Oh yes. Nothing like it to keep a girl fit.”
“You’re right,” he said, giving her a smile. “I’ll watch out for you, maybe we can have a knock around some time.”
“Did you find another partner?” interrupted Pascoe, who’d noted with distaste but also with envy the easy way Dunn had slipped into chat-up mode.
“No, I didn’t,” said Dunn. “I mean, I didn’t try. I just had a cup of coffee and mooched around till nine, then headed off home. I hadn’t been in long when Sue-Lynn rang. When she said you lot had been asking after Pal too, as the keyholder to Moscow House, I thought I should get round there to see what was going on.”
“Why?” said Pascoe.
“Sorry?”
“Why did you think that?”
“Because Pal was missing, obviously.”
“But there can’t have been any reason to make you think the two things were necessarily connected. I mean usually when the police ask for a keyholder it’s because they believe someone has attempted to break in to a property.”
“Yes, but… look, I don’t really see the point to your question.”
“I’m just wondering if you had any particular reason to be concerned about Mr Maciver. More than simply that he’d stood you up for a game of squash. The coroner will be very interested in his state of mind, you see, and if you can tell us anything that might throw light upon it…”
“No, not really. Last time I spoke to him he seemed perfectly normal.”
“When was that?”
“Tuesday, I think. I rang to check that our game was on. He said, yes, usual time. And that was that. Look, Mr Pascoe, he did kill himself, right? There’s not anything else you’re trying to get at here.”
“Like what, Mr Dunn?”
“You tell me, you’re the cop,” said Dunn, suddenly aggressive.
“Just routine enquiries,” said Pascoe placatingly. “Thank you, Mr Dunn. You’ve been very patient. We won’t hold you back any more. And congratulations again.”
“Yeah, congratulations,” said Novello.
In the car she said, “Nice house. Nice furniture. You say he’s a teacher?”
“That’s right. PE at Weavers.”
“Pay must have improved since I last checked.”
“I think his wife must have inherited quite a bit. You were interested in becoming a teacher, were you, Shirley?”
“No. My parents and my teachers and my parish priest were interested in me becoming a teacher,” she said. “Wouldn’t have minded if it hadn’t been for the money. And the kids, of course.”
“Not to mention the dinners.”
“Yes, I’d rather you didn’t mention the dinners.”
They laughed. It was a good moment. Good moments were possible, she admitted with slight surprise, even with the Mr Darcys of this world.
Back at the station, Novello was amused to see the DCI move past the Super’s door if not exactly on tiptoe, certainly with a stealth that confirmed her judgment that their morning activities did not have the seal of divine approval.
But flee him as you will down the nights and down the days, the Hound of Heaven will get you in the end, or a bit earlier if he answers to the name of Dalziel.
Pascoe’s sense of relief at reaching his office unintercepted drained away as he saw protruding from the centre of his desk a paper knife, impaling a sheet of paper across which was scrawled SEE ME!
A natural indignation at being summoned like some errant schoolboy rose in his craw. His pride demanded that he didn’t rush to present himself instantly so he busied himself examining his in-tray. An evidence bag had been deposited there containing a snakeskin wallet and labelled Wallet found in jacket of deceased male, Moscow
