The top of his back was very nastily bruised and he held his head thrust forward in a rather becomingly aggressive pose. He began pulling on his shirt, despite the matron’s protests.
“I’ll see the quack when he condescends to come,’ he said. ‘ too, Sergeant. Meanwhile we need a bit of privacy to talk with Mr. Roote here.”
“There seem to be quite a lot of students outside,’ said Landor diffidently. Miss. Scotby who had just arrived nodded in confirmation of this.
“The boy, Cockshut, is there,’ she said in her precise tones, as though that explained everything. ‘ I go and disperse them, Simeon?”
She probably would too, thought Pascoe. And it’s ” now, is it? If she’s out to supplant Mrs. Landor, please God let her do it by legitimate means.
That’s unnecessary,’ said Dalziel. ‘ office will do, if we may, Matron.”
She nodded and led the way into a small room opening off the sickbay.
Roote sat down uninvited and smiled up at them. He seemed quite recovered from his knock and mentally unperturbed.
“If you beat me, I shall scream,’ he said with a grin.
“I think I can promise you that,’ said Dalziel softly. Pascoe, who was sponging blood off his face at the small wash-basin in the corner, suddenly felt happy to be himself despite his aches and pains.
Roote had stopped smiling and was fingering the lump on the back of his head where Lapping had hit him. Pascoe caught Dalziel’s eye and nodded at the youth’s head, making a chopping motion. Dalziel’s eyes gave a flicker of understanding. Solicitors made a lot of fuss about their clients being questioned while suffering from untreated injuries, and the courts didn’t like it much either.
Now Pascoe brought the letter from his pocket and held it up for Dalziel to see. The fat man’s eyes rounded and he began to look pleased. He obviously had not expected to see it again. Pascoe hoped it was going to be worth all the trouble.
Dalziel picked up the telephone on the desk and after a moment spoke to the operator.
“Get me Mr. Saltecombe at his home please. Ask him if he would come to see me as soon as possible. Yes, I’m in the matron’s office.”
It was almost possible to sense the switchboard girl’s disapproval of Dalziel’s free movement round the college.
He replaced the receiver and looked solicitously at Franny.
“Now, Mr. Roote, we’ve got a doctor coming to have a look at that bump on your head. Is there anything you’d like to say before he turns up?”
Pascoe expected some flip obscenity, but strangely the youth seemed to be considering the suggestion carefully.
“I could have got rid of the letter,’ he said inconsequentially. ‘ didn’t think you’d be so quick.”
“We’re lightning when roused,’ said Dalziel.
“I wish I’d read it now. Then I’d know what — not that it matters. I’m rather tired of it all. It’s about time I went off on a new tack. And Sam’s probably said it all.’ He laughed. ‘ was a great one for words, Sam. Ideas. But not so hot on action.”
“Perhaps you should try words for a change.”
“You may be right, lovey. Anyway, what the hell. We’ll see. There’s an old police proverb, isn’t there? He who talks last serves longest? I’ll tell you what, Superintendent. You’d better get used to me as a picture of misguided innocence. I’ll bring character witnesses.” He’s nervous, thought Pascoe. Somewhere deep down inside him there’s a little bit of fear fluttering. He doesn’t like to sit and wait. He likes to be doing, doing, doing. He likes to feel the initiative to action lies with him.
Dalziel obviously caught this feeling too. He looked uninterested, glanced at his watch.
“Well, we’ll just get the doctor to look at you. Then we can talk later at the station.”
He opened the door and stepped into the sickroom.
“Any sign of that doctor?” From the window the matron said, ‘ think that his car is coming down the drive now. Come along, everybody. I can’t have you all hanging around here. What will the doctor think?”
They began to move reluctantly, Halfdane sticking close to Marion Cargo, Landor patting Miss. Scotby’s elbow reassuringly, Disney walking backwards as though from a royal presence.
“Superintendent.”
The voice stopped them all. It was Franny standing at the office door.
Behind him Pascoe hovered, ready to pounce.
“Murderer!’ hissed Disney magnificently.
“Mr. Dalziel. When Mr. Saltecombe comes, may I be there when he opens his letter? I’d like to see it.”
Something about his intonation bothered Pascoe.
“I bet you would,’ said Dalziel. ”t worry. You’ll find out what’s in it soon enough.”
Disney snorted and left. Marion, looking ill after the strain of the evening, went out with Halfdane’s arm supporting her waist, followed by Scotby and Landor.
Pascoe watched them all go, vaguely disturbed. Roote had sat down again and was whistling softly to himself. Pascoe looked at him with great dislike.
When the doctor arrived he was accompanied by Constable Shattuck. Pascoe turned over his supervisory duties to him and went and joined Dalziel at the sickbay window, looking down at a sizeable group of students hanging round the entrance to the block.
“Landor’s talking to them. Not very successfully,’ grunted Dalziel.
A car coming up the drive had to bleep its horn to clear a path through the students. It was a silver-grey Capri.
“Halfdane,’ said Dalziel. Pascoe wondered how he knew. ‘ bloody cars.”
They watched it out of sight through the main gates.
“Get the doc. to have a look at you,’ said Dalziel and obediently the sergeant went through into the other room. Behind him he heard Dalziel picking up the telephone.
Roote had been pronounced perfectly fit, Pascoe’s rib had been strapped, though the doctor didn’t think there was a break, and Dalziel was just putting his shirt back on for the second time when Henry Saltecombe turned up.
“I couldn’t believe it when they told me this morning. Sam! I’ve been just walking up and down the beach all day.”
He seemed genuinely upset.
There’s a letter for you here, Mr. Saltecombe,’ said Dalziel sympathetically. ‘ have reason to believe Mr. Fallowfield wrote it. I would like you to open it in my presence, read it, and then permit me to read it. It may be relevant to my enquiries and the coroner too will want sight of it.”
Henry seemed to turn even paler.
“From Sam?”
“Yes. Sergeant, just hold that door firmly closed, will you?”
Pascoe took a tight hold of the handle of the office door behind which Constable Shattuck was watching over Roote.
Henry unsealed the envelope awkwardly, tearing it diagonally across the face. There were three handwritten sheets inside. He read them silently, once, twice.
“Here,’ he said handing them to Dalziel and turning away. Dalziel read slowly and methodically, then passed them over to Pascoe.
“Mr. Saltecombe,’ he said. ‘ word in your ear.”
They muttered in a corner as Pascoe read the letter.
“Well, that’s that,’ he said to Dalziel who shook his head warningly.
“Fetch Roote through,’ said the fat man.
Pascoe tapped on the door and Shattuck opened it.
“Bring him out,’ he said to the constable.
Franny stood framed in the doorway.
Henry took a step forward from his corner.
