Nice, he thought. Not built on traditional art-mistress lines, all bum and bosom, but none the worse for that. She could go to the vicar’s tea-party dressed like that and still put a bit of strength in the sexton’s arm. Oh, yes.
His thoughts turned rather guiltily to Ellie. What the hell. There were no ties there. Last night’s encounter had been the chance-in-a-million crossing of orbits which now would spin them light-years apart.
He liked the image. Perhaps Ellie could use it in her book. He had tried the first chapter over breakfast. It hadn’t held him but he felt he ought to persevere.
“Why do you want to see me, Superintendent?’ asked Marion. Then she saw the statue through the open door.
“Oh,’ she said in neutral tones.
“It’s a pity,’ said Dalziel, ‘ it should be lying here out of sight.
Like all that stuff in the basement of the National Gallery.”
That’s it, thought Pascoe. He’ll mention
“The Stag at Bay’ then he’s shot his bolt.
“Not really,’ said Marion. ”s not very good.”
“You mustn’t say that. I’m no judge, but I know what I like, and this looks fine to me.”
Dalziel nodded sagely as though he had just bestowed a Nobel Prize.
“But,’ he went on, ‘ you place so little value on it, why were you so upset when it came down? Everyone remarked on it.”
“Everyone,’ had been Landor.
Marion flushed.
“Not because of the statue itself,’ she said. ‘ know it’s absurd but, well, it had a sentimental value. That’s all.”
“Really? You mean, because of Miss. Girling?”
“Yes. It was her idea, you see… “
“Her idea!’ broke in Pascoe. Dalziel looked at him reprovingly.
‘… and she gave me so much encouragement. She was really super. The others didn’t want it, you know, they didn’t think it was the thing. I thought they’d have banned it after it all happened, but instead they decided to use it as… “
She stopped and turned away.
“There, there,’ said Dalziel, patting her shoulder avuncularly. But his eyes were glancing smugly at Pascoe.
“I’m sorry,’ she said finally, moving from under the next of Dalziel’s blows.
“Not at all. Quite understand,’ he said. ‘, Miss. Cargo, you started work on the statue in… “
‘… September. It should have gone up before Christmas, but the weather was so awful that they didn’t get the hole dug for the base till the last week of term.”
“You’d be a final year student at the time?”
That’s right.”
“And after Miss. Girling’s reported death, it was decided to use your statue as a memorial to her?” “Yes. Like I said, not everyone agreed. Miss. Scotby was very much against it.”
“And Miss. Disney?”
“No, actually. It was her and Henry Saltecombe who talked the others into it. It was a bit absurd, I mean, the thing was meant to symbolize youthful drive and energy.” “And the base,’ continued Dalziel, ‘ did they put the concrete base into the hole?”
“I’m not sure,’ said Marion. ‘ it important?” “Yes,’ said Dalziel.
She thought hard.
“I can’t say, I’m afraid. There was a hole there when we left for the hols, and the base was in when we got back. That’s all I can say.”
“Sergeant Pascoe, perhaps you could… “
Pascoe did not wait for him to finish, but nodded and began to step out rapidly towards the college.
“And when did you come back to the college?”
“Oh, just a year ago. I’d done a bit of teaching, got some extra qualifications on part-time courses, then this job came. up. It seemed like fate somehow. I’d said I’d never come back after the last year. But that all seemed such a long time before. Now it’s all started again.”
She slammed shut the door of the shed, frightening a blackbird which had been perched on the roof, observing them.
“Sorry,’ she called contritely after it, but it didn’t look round.
“Thank you very much, my dear,’ said Dalziel. ‘ me walk you back to college.”
He turned to the low archway cut in the hedge which led through into the garden.
“No thanks,’ said Marion looking through the gap. ‘ think I’ll stroll around here for a while.” These artists have bloody sensitive souls, thought Dalziel as he watched her go. She even came the long way round.
He found Pascoe in Landor’s study in the act of replacing the telephone receiver.
“Easy!’ said the sergeant. ‘ nice for once. It was the builders who are doing the work here now. I gave their office a tinkle and got right in touch with the man who supervised the job. He remembered it well.” He paused dramatically. Dalziel belched.
The base was lowered into place on Tuesday the twentieth of December.” “There’s a thing,’ said Dalziel.
“She never left.”
“Or didn’t go far if she did.”
“Scotby saw her driving off at 6 p. m.”
“Saw someone driving off at 6 p. m.” “Or says she saw someone driving off.’ ‘ do we know about her movements that day?’ ”ve got an outline.”
“We need more than a bloody outline. Sergeant, let’s get to work and fill it in!”
Filling it in proved more difficult than it sounded, but not more difficult than Pascoe had come to expect. If getting hold of staff on a working day was difficult, getting hold of them on a Saturday morning proved almost impossible.
Landor was nowhere to be found. His wife, a pale skeletal woman, denied all knowledge of his whereabouts. She was only certain he would be back for lunch.
“We have guests,’ she added defensively as though Pascoe were holding her certainty against her.
It’s all I’d hold, thought Pascoe.
Scotby, the main source of what little information he already had about the course of events on the nineteenth of December, had likewise disappeared.
He banged on the door of her room, then Disney’s, and finally Ellie’s.
“Hi,’ she said. She was still in her dressing-gown. ‘?” “I’d better not,’ he said. She seemed to be expecting to be kissed so he obliged. The dressing-gown fell open.
“I’m looking for Scotby. Or Disney,’ he said hurriedly, averting his eyes.
“It takes all sorts to make a world,’ she answered, fastening her belt.
“Any ideas?”
“Well, Scotby’ll be down on the beach with a great lump of animality between her legs.”
“What?”
“Riding. She rides. Horses. It keeps her fit,’ said Ellie lighting a cigarette and coughing violently. ‘ it sweats out her refined little lust for Simeon.”
“Landor? You’re joking!”
“Please yourself. I’ve watched her. She’d love to get her saddle over him,’ said Ellie coarsely. ‘ she makes do with Black Beauty every Saturday and Sunday morning. There’s a riding-school beyond the golf club.”
“And Disney?”
“Hair. Every Saturday. You didn’t think it could look as unkempt as that by nature? No, it’s a wash and set and a bit of capital titillation from the fingers of some epicene young man.”
Thanks a lot,’ said Pascoe gloomily.
