The obvious person to thrust at was Ellie. He reached for the phone and dialled.
“Hallo, Ellie.”
“Oh, it’s you.” “Right first time,’ he said. ‘, I’ve been glancing through your manuscript. Very interesting. But I thought I’d get it back to you before I do something awful with it, like spill coffee all over it or lose it. Is it OK if I come round and return it now?”
There was a pause.
“Yes. No. Look, I’ll come and collect it. You’re in 28, aren’t you?”
“That’s right. Worried about the kind of person seen going into your room, are you?’ he said with an attempt at lightness.
“Piss off.”
The phone went dead. He wondered if this meant she wasn’t coming, but within five minutes there was a tap at the door.
“Hi,’ she said. She looked very attractive in a simple white dress with large black buttons right down the front. He couldn’t quite decide whether they were functional or merely decorative.
“I enjoyed your book.” “Liar,’ she said calmly. ‘ haven’t had time to look at it.”
“No,’ he protested. ‘ of the characterization helped a great deal in understanding life here at the college. I’m looking forward to reading the finished thing when it’s published.”
She sat down, smiling now.
“It’s like listening to some sentimental song,’ she said. ‘ tune, meaningless words, but it works on you. Keep talking.”
There was a tap on the door. It was Elizabeth, neat as ever in her nylon overall, come to collect the dishes. It was nice to have such a pretty girl looking after him. She seemed very obliging. In fact earlier he had found her in the room tidying up. Perhaps she fancies me, he thought.
She seemed a little disconcerted to find Ellie there also and let a fork slide on to the carpet.
“Sorry,’ she said, bending down. Pascoe automatically stooped also and the heads nearly cracked together. They both rocked back on their haunches, smiling, the girl showing a lot of leg where the overall parted above her knees. Pascoe glanced down involuntarily. On the inside hem of the garment he saw the initials in indian ink E.A.
There wasn’t a blinding flash. There rarely was. Just another certainty sliding into place. Fancies me, hell! he mocked himself.
Tell me,’ he said conversationally, ‘ time did you get back from the beach on Thursday morning?”
The girl turned pale. Bulls-eye! thought Pascoe.
“Were you asked to keep a close eye on us as well, the superintendent and me?’ he went on pressing his advantage.
The girl stood up, leaving the crockery on the floor.
“I don’t know what… “
“Come off it, love,’ said Pascoe. ‘ were there. That makes you a witness. You should have come forward, you know. But better late than never. We’ll need a statement. And you’ll want your bra back.” “I don’t know…’ she said again, then turned and hurried from the room.
“What the hell are you doing to that poor kid?’ demanded Ellie angrily.
“For Christ’s sake, I’d never have believed it. You’re like the bloody SS. Those sergeant’s stripes go all the way through, don’t they?”
Pascoe threw up his hands in mock bewilderment.
That poor kid as you call her was big enough and old enough to enjoy a moonlight orgy after which a girl got herself killed.
She also probably gets high pretty frequently on cannabis and doubtless does a bit of dabbling in the supernatural on the side. I should think she can stand a few straight questions from a policeman.”
“What the hell are you on about? You mean…’ For a few seconds Ellie was lost for words. For a few seconds.
“Look. OK. What’s the difference? If that’s the way she likes her sex, what’s it to you? It’s a lot to her though; these others, students, it’s nothing to them, a bit of embarrassment at home if mummy and daddy get to hear of it, but that’s all. But it’s that girl’s job. She’s not just a skivvy, she’s doing a training course in catering. And this kind of thing could easily get her chucked out on her ear.”
Pascoe shrugged.
“I’m sorry. It won’t come to that. There’s probably nothing she can tell us, no more than the students we’ve talked to. It’s unimportant.”
“Unimportant! You didn’t make her feel it was unimportant!”
“No. I’m sorry. Excuse me.”
He picked up the phone again and dialled Dalziel’s room. There was no reply, so he tried the study.
“Superintendent Dalziel.” “Pascoe, sir. I thought you’d like to know I’ve identified the owner of that bra found in the dunes. Elizabeth Andrews, the girl who brings our meals.”
There was a snort at the other end of the line.
“Yes, I know. I saw her leaving Roote’s room the other night. Is that all?”
“Well, yes sir. I thought she might have been keeping an eye on us for some reason.”
“You haven’t talked to her?”
“Well, yes, I have.”
“Oh God,’ groaned Dalziel. ‘ I’ll probably have my meals brought by some sour-faced harridan.”
The phone was slammed down.
“Well,’ said Ellie who had come close enough to hear both sides of the conversation. ‘ didn’t seem madly impressed. Strange. I should have thought the graduate wonder would always be miles ahead of the nonintellectual bluebottle.”
“He should have told me.”
“Poor sergeant,’ laughed Ellie, much mollified by his discomfiture.
“Doesn’t the nasty super tell you everything then?”
He grabbed her violently and kissed her till she gasped in pain.
“Let’s go and start an orgy in the dunes,’ she whispered.
“This will do me fine.”
He kissed her again. Outside a bell began to ring and there was a distant confusion of voices.
“What’s that?’ he asked lifting his head.
“It’s the Union. There’s a students’ meeting tonight. They summon them like going to church.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“Nothing. That’s the trouble. They’ve been organizing protests and boycotts on a small scale all year, but the big issue was going to break loose if she wasn’t reinstated. And all hell was breaking loose because Fallowfield refused to acknowledge the right of student governors to be present when he was giving evidence. But now Anita’s dead, they’ve lost their cause. No doubt they’ll find another.” “If we don’t hurry, I’ll lose my cause,’ said Pascoe.
“Softly, softly. There’s a long night ahead,’ said Ellie drawing his head down again.
The big black buttons, he was pleased to find, were functional as well as decorative.
“Order, order,’ murmured Franny. ‘ the meeting come to order?”
He tapped his gavel gently twice on the table across which he surveyed the assembled members of his Union. There had been a good turn-out, considering the fact that this was a very warm Saturday evening in June, and it would not be necessary for Stuart to use any of the complicated manoeuvres he had devised for overcoming the lack of a quorum.
Cockshut was at present on his feet refusing to give way to a thin, spectacled, crew-cutted youth who was attempting to turn a point of information into a speech. The secretary stood impassive, calculating the feeling of the meeting and watching Franny carefully. He observed the chairman’s enjoyment of the situation, his sense of self- parody as he requested order in a voice which even Stuart, who as secretary was positioned at one end of the official table, could hardly hear.
A clown, thought Stuart. A self-centred, amoral, socially non-productive clown. He had known him for three
