Death

What could I do but stammer my thanks? I am beginning to discover, as you have always known, that even in these most wicked and selfish times, there are still to be found huge reserves of unselfish goodness and loving kindness. Talk again soon.

Yours ever,

Franny

‘Sou see what he's saying?' said Pascoe urgently. 'Please, tell me you see it too.' 'I think it might speed things up if you ^! tell me first, Peter,' said Dr Pottle with some sign of irritation.

Pascoe had turned up without an appointment, brushing aside Pottle's secretary's objection that he was far too busy working on his opening address to the Psychandric Society's Symposium which was taking place the following day.

'He'll see me’ declared Pascoe, making it sound like a threat. 'I just want two minutes. Ask him.'

And a short time afterwards he was ushered in to be assured by Pottle that, if he was still there after one hundred and twenty seconds, the secretary would call security.

'He's saying that when he set fire to Albacore's study to destroy the man's research papers, he also took the opportunity to help himself to the copy of the Libellus de Vita Sancti Godriti which he'd seen earlier that night.'

'Knowing, of course, that it would be assumed to have been reduced to ashes in the fire?'

That's right,' said Pascoe triumphantly. 'You've got it. You're beginning to see just what this bastard is capable of.'

‘Well, I can at least say I can see why you should be convinced of this.'

Pascoe studied this answer which fell a long way short of the hoped-for endorsement.

'Why's that?' he asked.

'Because, having convinced yourself he's guilty of arson and attempted murder, you're hardly going to strain at a little matter of theft.'

'A little matter? This thing was invaluable!'

'And that makes a difference?'

Pottle made a note on the pad before him. Upside down, it looked like a meaningless squiggle. Pascoe had once taken the opportunity offered when Pottle was called out of his office to have a quick glance at this pad and found that, right way up, his notes still looked like meaningless squiggles. Perhaps that's all they were, but it felt like the psychiatrist was noting every twist and turn of Pascoe's attitudes to Franny Roote.

'Anything more you have to tell me before you leave?' said Pottle, looking at his watch.

The bugger knows there is, thought Pascoe.

He thought of saying no, but that would have been silly. Pointless having a dishwasher and doing your own pots.

He said, 'Rosie got one of those trace-your-family-tree kits and Ellie got the notion it would be interesting to check out Roote

'Really? Bit of an odd idea for someone as rational as Ellie to get, isn't it?'

'You think my wife is rational?' Pascoe looked at Pottle with serious doubt.

'You don't?'

'1 think she has her reasons that reason wots not of,' said Pascoe carefully. 'Anyway, these are the results of her investigation.'

He passed over a file containing the information Ellie had given him, plus the results of his own follow- up.

Pottle read through it and whistled.

'Was that a Freudian or a Jungian whistle?' asked Pascoe.

'It was an unsophisticated expression of amazement that one irrational woman could so easily discover what a well-organized CID seems to have overlooked for many years.'

'We accepted the records. Only it seems that the information on which they were based was fed into the system by Roote himself. At an early age, it should be said.'

'Meaning he decided very early on that his memories of his father, good and bad, should be completely private. Whatever the truth of Mr Roote, he undoubtedly presents a fascinating object of study. I can see why Haseen got so interested in him. Ellie's findings seem to suggest that, far from being deceived, Haseen got him to open up more than he'd ever done before. It's the stuff in the letters about not remembering his father that's a lie.'

'Didn't I always say you can't trust the bastard?' said Pascoe. Then, sensing an irrationality here, he went quickly on: 'It certainly underlines his reasons for hating the police, who he thinks treated his father so badly. Which all goes to show how right I am in being suspicious when he smarms up to me.'

That might be a case of throwing out the baby with the bathwater’ said Pottle. 'His reasons for lying to you about his father may have changed from desire to keep your long nose out of his business to a confusion of your function and the dead man's. His memories of his father's standing as a policeman, able to deal with all threats that came to his family, are very powerful.

And it's clear he has a huge respect for you as a professional

'Come on! He's taking the piss, isn't he? He's such an arrogant sod he thinks he's brighter than all the rest of us put together.'

'I think you're wrong. Once he may have felt so, but getting caught and ending up in the Syke made him realize that he wasn't Supermind. Realizing how much Haseen had managed to get out of him must have come as a shock too. His respect for you made him think it likely that not only would you read Haseen's book, but that you would identify his disguised presence in it too. So he pre-empts this by drawing your attention to it en passant and boasting about the way he put one across on Ms Haseen by feeding her duff sensational memories of his father. Would you have read the book, incidentally?'

'No way’ said Pascoe. 'Even if I had come across it by chance, half a para of her turgid style would have made me close it fast. He's been too clever by half.'

'Only because he thinks you're too clever by three-quarters.'

'That's right. He thinks I'm clever enough to read between his lines and get the real messages, but powerless to do anything about them! All the pleasure of boasting, none of the penalties of confession. But he'll over-reach himself one day and I'll have him!'

'But so far you haven't come close?'

'No, but one day… there has to be something… maybe that dead student of Sam Johnson's in Sheffield… he keeps glancing at that… I'm sure there's something there

'Perhaps. But, Peter, motive is not a constant, you must have observed that. The reason for starting something is often not the same as the reason for continuing to do it. It works in both directions. The penniless man who steals out of necessity may turn into the wealthy man who steals out of greed. Or the ambitious politician who does charity work because it looks good on her CV might end up as a passionate advocate of some particular charity despite the fact that it's having an adverse effect upon her career.'

'And the objective psychiatrist can end up getting religion,' said Pascoe. 'I reckon my two minutes are up. Sorry to leave before the end of the service, but I enjoyed the sermon.'

'A polite man's rudeness is like a summer storm; it refreshes the flowers and settles the dust,' murmured Pottle.

'Freud?'

'No, I just made it up. Peter, read this letter again, read them all again, and try to look for patterns other than the one printed on your eye.'

'If I were you, I'd stick to the day job,' advised Pascoe. 'Gotta dash.'

He left. A moment later his head reappeared round the door.

'Sorry’ he said.

'A rude man's apology is like winter sunshine

'Go screw yourself’ said Peter Pascoe.

Earlier that same Friday morning a large container lorry had rolled off the Dutch ferry at Hull dock. The driver handed over his papers to be checked, then swore in exasperation as the officials invited him to drive his vehicle into a remote examination bay where a full team of searchers stood waiting with their equipment and dogs.