D&P23 - The Price of Butcher's Meat aka A Cure for all Diseases

by Reginald Hill

  A gambling casino—I thought. Possible—except access wasnt great—& not even the sweet smell of money could mask the stench of the Hollis pigs.

  What about a retirement home? Do old folk lose their sense of smell sis?

  But I couldnt see Ted & Ess as your jolly carers!

  Whatever they were up to—clearly Lady D—& Tom too—werent in the loop.

  Could see Sid might not mind pulling a fast one on Lady D—but I couldnt see him going behind his brothers back—just to make a quick buck.

  Whatever the game

  was—Id given it away to Lady D—with malice aforethought—but I resolved not to say anything to Tom—both for his sake—& also cos I didnt want to get any further up the noses of the 2 dishiest guys in town!

  Now I decided to compensate for my bad behavior by getting back to Kyoto in time to save Tom from the bicycle!

  Neednt have bothered—Franny Roote had just turned up—& hed offered Tom a lift to the Avalon—so he told me to drive myself over for the lunch as planned. Tom was even more bubbly than usual—full of confidence his meeting was going to go well—& also chuffed cos hed rung Godly Gordon—& he was definitely going to attend!

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  I made some comment about his powers of

  persuasion—& I caught

  Franny grinning at me—as if he knew—which he couldnt—that Id put in my little twopennorth. I gave him the test.

  Wealth—4 at most Id guess.

  Wheels—only 1 for his mini ambulance. Social Skills—this was hard—Im sure hed have no problem smoothing a girls path—dealing with all situations—

  keeping the talk bright & stimulating—but I get the feeling that from time to time hed enjoy dropping a handful of grit into the works! So 8 out of 10

  there.

  As for Sex Appeal—impossible to give points without more info. It could be like giving Sid 10 out of 10 for Wheels—then finding the Maz had no engine!

  Hard—you say? Well—I remember who it was knocked 5 points off the vicars son after you found he had diabetes! The thought he might be pulling out his needle before he pulled out his dong—your words!—was a real

  downer!

  Tom & Fran went off—leaving me with a good hour before I needed to make a move—so I thought Id bring you up to date.

  Better dash now. Looking forward to seeing inside the famous clinic. Got a feeling at some point Big Bum may try to crash the party. If she does—I hope it doesnt come out who big mouth was!

  Wont take Sherlock Holmes to guess that—I hear you say—not when your little sister has a mouth makes Julia Roberts look like shes whistling Dixie.

  Youd better be careful—sis! When you come home with your bronze trophy doctor in tow—youre going to need all the friends you can find.

  Love you

  Charley xxxx

  17

  Well, Mildred, here I am, back from my first official outing, squatting on the khazi, and defi nitely not feeling like singing I could have danced all night!

  First thought when I saw there were nowt but fizzy wine on offer was, Mean bugger! Thought these Yanks always lashed out the hard liquor. My first guv’nor, old Wallie Tallentire, used to say, Bubbly’s good for nowt but getting a girl’s knickers round her ankles.

  Certainly got my trousers round mine!

  Talking of trousers, remember to thank Cap. When I pulled mine on for the first time since she brought them, I were surprised how well they fit. Then I checked and realized they were brand new and three sizes down from my old ones, which would have hung around me legs like a mains’l in a dead calm. Bright lass! Dalziel, my man, you certainly know how to pick ’em!

  So while I’m sitting here like patience on a fucking monument, I might as well make a note of Festerwhanger’s little “do” while it’s still fresh. Always prided myself on not needing to be taking notes when I were running a case. If I can’t remember it, it’s not bloody worth remembering! Big boast. Let’s put it to the test.

  Yon clinic’s a fancy place. Makes our old Central Hospital look like a heritage center. Bet most of your common bugs and viruses turn tail and head back for town soon as they get a glimpse of what’s waiting for them there. One look at the car park tells the story. There were enough high-emission gear out there to punch its own small hole in the atmosphere. If the treatment fees match, then I reckon the patients will feel like they’ve paid for full privacy.

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  Pet led me to this lounge where there was a handful of people with glasses in their hands. I only recognized two of them. One was the landlord from the pub. He were talking to Stompy Heywood’s lass that I’d sat next to when I broke out of the Avalon. I went up to them and said,

  “How do, lass? How’s thy dad?”

  She looked puzzled for a moment, then said, “Oh, it’s Mr. Deal, isn’t it? Didn’t recognize you with your clothes on. You’ll have met Alan Hollis from the Hope and Anchor.”

  “Aye,” I said, laughing. I like a lass with a bit of spirit. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Hollis.”

  The landlord said, “You too, Mr. Dalziel. You’ve not been back in.”

  “Doctor’s orders,” I said. “But he’s letting me off the hook today so I’ll be down there shortly, you can bet on it.”

  Pet came with a glass of fizz which I drank right off.

  “Best get me another, luv,” I said. “In fact, why not bring a bottle over here so’s to save you getting in a sweat running between me and the bar?”

  She gave me a glower but she went off again.

  I said to Hollis, “Left your missus looking after the pub then?”

  He said, “I’m not married, Mr. Dalziel. But I’ve got good staff. Just as well with the hog roast on Sunday.”

  I’ve noticed this before—folk out in the sticks always talk like everything happening locally’s so important, complete strangers should know about it!

  I said, “What’s that?”

  “Don’t you know?” he said, surprised. “Lady Denham’s big do at Sandytown Hall. Everyone will be there, everyone important, that is.

  Sort of thank you from the consortium to everyone who’s helped in putting the town on the map. I’ll be organiz ing the drinks, so the pub will have to look after itself.”

  I thought, When buffalo woman snorts, every bugger jumps!

  Pet came back with a bottle. I took it from her and filled all the glasses. Mine fullest ’cos I were catching up.

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  I said, “Lady Denham sounds real important. She’ll be in this meeting then?”

  Pet and Hollis looked at each other, then Hollis said, “No, I don’t think so.”

  I said, sort of poking around, “Oh? Didn’t strike me as the kind of lass you could keep away, her and Dr. Feldenhammer being such good mates.”

  Pet gave a kind of snort, and Hollis looked at the ground, and even young Heywood grinned. But before I could probe harder, the door opened and the folk from the meeting poured in. I saw Franny Roote in his chair. He gave me a wave, I gave him a glower. Then I spotted Parker, so I excused myself, and went to pay my debts.

  He were talking to a bearded guy in baggy pants and one of them fleecy jackets hikers wear. Either a tramp who’d strayed in off the road or an eccentric millionaire patient, I decided.

  “How do, Mr. Parker,” I said. “Here’s that twenty quid you were kind enough to loan me. Many thanks.”

  He recognized me straight off, or mebbe Festerwhanger had warned him.

  “Delighted I was able to help, Mr. Dalziel,” he said, beaming at me.

  “And how nice to meet you again.”

  He sounded like he meant it too and not just because of the money.

  “May I introduce you to Gordon Godley?” he said. “Gordon, this is Mr. Dalziel who’s convalescing here at Avalon. Mr. Godley’s a healer whom I have persuaded to bring hi
s ministry to Sandytown.”

  Wrong twice. Neither a tramp nor a patient but one of the weirdos Roote had been talking about!

  I stuck my hand out. Godley didn’t seem mad keen on taking it, and when he did it were barely a touch before he let go. Mebbe he were scared I were convalescing from summat contagious.

  “Healer, eh?” I said. “What’s that about then? Charming warts in a moonlit churchyard or sticking lepers’ noses back on?”

  I were just being friendly, but I wished I’d not said it when he looked T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 1 3 5

  at me with his big gray eyes like a spaniel told he’s not going walkies today. I were just going to pour a bit of oil when a voice behind me said,

  “I’m sure Mr. Godley could help you with your warts if they’re bothering you, Mr. Dalziel. Which part of your anatomy are they affecting?”

  It were the Heywood lass, giving me the kind of look her dad used to give before clattering your goolies in a line-out. Godley, who was looking more confused and unhappy than ever, mumbled something and moved off.

  Heywood looked at me angrily and said, “Now see what you’ve done.

  Tell me, were you always a bully or did you do a course on it at Hen-don?”

  I had to laugh. These kids. Know everything, understand nowt. But I liked her style.

  Parker didn’t seem to have noticed she were in a tizz.

  Still smiling he said, “I’m so glad Gordon decided to come to the meeting, Charlotte. He’ll be such a valuable acquisition. All the other therapies are based on physical interactions. He provides a purely spiritual dimension. Charlotte, why don’t you introduce Mr. Dalziel to some of the others while I have a quiet word with Dr. Feldenhammer?”

  “Meeting must have gone well,” I said as he moved off. “He seems happy.”

  “Tom is always happy,” she said. “He believes everything is for the best in the best of possible worlds. Pretty well the opposite of your worldview, I’d guess, Mr. Dalziel. Now, who’d you like to be rude to next?”

  I got myself another drink, or rather, another bottle as the fi rst seemed to have emptied itself. Then Charley whipped me round some of the others—a chunky Chink lass who stuck needles into people; an herbalist you could have sprayed green and sold as a pixie in a garden center; and a woman who looked like she’d been invited to a Halloween party and got her dates mixed. Didn’t catch what she did, ’cos while we were shaking hands, I was hoping her black nails weren’t painted with owt toxic. I began to wonder how come old Fester had got mixed up with this bunch of oddballs. If I’d found them setting up camp on my 1 3 6

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  patch, I’d have escorted ’em politely to the Lancs border and pushed them across. They’re more used to loonies over there.

  When Charley finally introduced me to a woman she said was Parker’s sister, I thought, Thank Christ I’m back with the sane buggers. Some hope! Took all of ten seconds to realize she were dotty as a Frenchman’s jock strap. Woman with her seemed okay, but. Name of Sandy something. Gave me an odd stare when Charley introduced us—or mebbe that’s just how she always looks at big sexy men. I wish!

  I’d got one thing right, though. Suddenly the door burst open and buffalo woman charged in.

  “Lester,” she declaimed. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

  Parker and Festerwhanger were in close confab over by the drinks table. I saw them look at each other, just a glance lasting a split second, but I’d put money on it each on ’em were thinking, You didn’t tell me you’d invited her!

  But Parker being a cockeyed optimist and Festerwhanger being a smarmy Yank, neither of ’em had any bother turning on the full beam and coming forward to greet her.

  “Lady D! Now we’re complete!” declared Parker.

  “Welcome, dear Daphne,” oozed Festerwhanger, offering one of them air kisses, but she moved her head at the last moment and caught him full on the lips so hard it probably bruised his gums.

  The bodywork might be a bit rusty but the old internal combustion was still pounding away!

  She weren’t slow at lapping up the fizz either, I noted, getting through a couple of glasses at a rate of knots that made me feel like a Methodist and hitting the nibbles like she’d not et since Shrove Tuesday.

  “Bet the mean old cow’s brought a doggy bag,” muttered young Heywood.

  I said, “Being rude’s okay behind people’s backs then?”

  “Just stating the facts,” she said pertly. “Looks like maybe you’re on the menu too.”

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  Didn’t get her drift till I looked back to Lady D and there was the old bird wiggling her glass at me and giving me a turnip- lantern smile.

  What the fuck had I done to turn me from loony patient to dear old chum?

  Mebbe it were friendship hour here in Sandytown, for suddenly the young guy I recalled whistling “The Indian Maid” in the pub appeared and gave Heywood a smacking kiss. Opposite effect here. He was definitely aiming at the mouth but a nifty bit of head work diverted him to the cheekbone.

  “Charley, here you are,” he said. “What a joy to see you again.”

  He sounded like an old-fashioned actor doing sincere. Good-looking young bloke, and he knew it. No harm in that. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, that’s always been my motto.

  Didn’t look like it cut much ice with Heywood, but. She said, very accusing, “You told your aunt about the meeting then?”

  “Of course,” he said. “But only in the fervent hope that she’d insist on coming, thus giving me another chance of seeing you.”

  The lass rolled her eyes a bit, but I could tell she were pleased too.

  This young cock had learned what all successful young cocks soon work out, that you don’t need to worry about laying on the lard too thick with most women. Seeing what you’re at makes them feel cleverer than you, which is what they all like to feel. But it takes a very clever one indeed not to let some of the lard stick!

  She said, “Mr. Dalziel, this is Teddy Denham. Sir Edward, if you like titles.”

  “Love ’em,” I said. “Detective Superintendent Andy Dalziel.”

  That froze his smile a second as we shook hands.

  There’d been two others in the grand lady’s train, a pair of lasses, one I didn’t recognize and t’other the willowy niece, Clara, I’d met in the pub. Didn’t surprise me to see Roote bearing down on her like the wolf on the fold. He came to a stop in front of her, reached out, grabbed a chair and pretty well forced her to sit down so’s she were at his level.

  Didn’t notice or mebbe didn’t care that he were blocking the passage of 1 3 8

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  t’other lass, who looked like she’d lunched on a radish salad and wished she hadn’t. She could’ve walked round him but she didn’t. She just got hold of the back of the wheelchair and twisted it out of her way, then wandered off to the window at the far end of the room, leaving Roote looking at the wall. Clara looked a bit pissed with the sour- faced woman but I could see Roote grinning as he maneuvered himself back into position. Nowt I could teach that bugger about milking sympathy!

  Alongside me, Teddy Denham was still laying it on with a trowel too, this time showing young Heywood how well read he were.

  Looking round the room, he declared, “This is precisely the kind of gathering Austen would have described so brilliantly, don’t you think, Charley? Or perhaps you prefer the darker gaze of George Eliot?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said.

  “What about you, Mr. Dalziel? Aimez-vous George Eliot?”

  It was put-down-the-fat-plod time.

  I said, “Eh?”

  “Do you like George Eliot?” he translated very slowly.

  “Oh aye,” I said. “He were my gran’s favorite. Used to play ‘By the Silvery Moon’ all the time. Excuse me.”

  I gave Heywood a grin afore I moved off and she grinned back a
nd gave me a big wink. Interesting lass. Not daft, just young. And won’t be bad looking either when she lets herself grow into her body. Reminds me a bit of Cap.

  In my experience buggers who want to be alone are either thinking of topping themselves or stealing the silver, so I joined the sour- faced woman by the window to find out which. She was staring across to the convalescent home. From this angle you couldn’t see how it had been extended. Looking out to sea, with its tall chimneys and all that green ivy clinging to mellow red brick, it would have made a grand cover for an English Heritage magazine.

  “Must have been a lovely place to live when it were a private house,”

  I said.

  “Yes, it was,” she said softly. “Very lovely. It used to belong to my family.

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  A sort of dower house. My grandmother lived there. I always used to love staying with her . . .”

  I could see her face in the pane and her expression were sort of dreamy. Nice-looking lass. Then she clocked my reflection and suddenly it were back to radish time.

  She turned to face me.

  I said, “Andy Dalziel,” and stuck out my hand.

  Her handshake were like one of them air kisses. Made the healer’s feel like an arm-wrestling session.

  “Esther Denham,” she said.

  “Oh aye. You related to Lady Denham then?”

  Her face screwed up like she’d bit on a lettuce leaf and found a slug.

  “By marriage,” she said, making it sound like an operation without anesthetic.

  Then Lady D’s voice boomed, “Esther, my dear, there you are. Come and keep me company. You too, Edward.”

  It were like watching a kid who’s just been told she can’t have a sweetie realizing it’s because she’s being offered a tutti- frutti instead. As she turned from me, her face lit up like someone had triggered a security light.

  “Coming!” she called gaily.

  And she set off toward buffalo woman like a lost lamb to her ewe.

  I saw Sir Teddy had abandoned young Heywood just as quick and I went back to join her.