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

by Reginald Hill

  —it had been

  raining!—I yelled—rain makes you

  wet—or havent you

  noticed?—

  —indeed—& the normal reaction is to head for shelter—he said—unless you have some good reason to stay out in the downpour—

  —anyone can get caught in the rain—I protested—what does he say?—

  —he says that he was preoccupied with his thoughts & did not notice it was raining—till he was soaked to the skin—

  —& whats wrong with that?—I demanded—are you so completely un-imaginative that youve never got so deeply involved in something you didnt notice the weather?—

  —oh yes—he

  said—last time it happened I was lying in wait for a murderer—

  I suddenly realized—for a long time now hed been totally in control—while Id been on the defensive—with lots of yelling—& heavy sarcasm.

  I took a deep breath & said—so that was his motive for killing Ollie—but what would be his motive for killing Lady D?—Hed only ever seen her

  twice!—

  —twice when youd been present—you mean?—he said.

  —well yes—I said—but I know he had never been to Sandytown till Tom Parker persuaded him—

  —you know—how?—

  —because he hadnt—I said feebly.

  —I see—but didnt you think it odd that he hadnt when clearly—as you yourself so astutely observed—his relationship with Miss Lee was so . . .

  T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 3 0 3

  He was shuffling through the printouts again.

  —lovey- dovey—he read—bit of mutual alternative therapy going on there perhaps?—so—2 people in a close personal relationship—living within half an hours journey of each other—yet ignorant of the significant details of each others life? Doesnt seem likely—does it?—

  He was right—it didnt.

  I said—OK—but it seems to me that its Miss Lee you should be looking at—if youve been reading my private correspondence as closely as you claim youll have noticed she wasnt exactly Lady Ds greatest fan!—

  He smiled—turned to the ugly guy & said—Novello was right sergeant—Miss Heywood would make a very good detective—

  I noted the subtle attempt to repair feet-of-clay Novello—maybe he

  hopes I can be set up again for her all-girls-together act. Well forget it fellow! Remember Suzie Bogg who threw my favorite Barbie in the duck pond when I was 7? I still hear the splash every time I see her in the village.

  I said—so whats her story then?—

  —she says that Mr Hollis came to her in the throes of a bad asthma attack—she alleviated the worst symptoms by her usual treatment then had to go out for a regular appointment with some old lady who suffers badly from arthritis—

  —youve checked this?—I said.

  That got another approving smile & nod—& he went on—she left Mr Hollis on the table in the treatment room—she had no concern about doing this as in Mr Hollis’s case retention of the needles for up to ninety minutes had proved to be efficacious—& she expected to be back within the hour. Mr Godley meanwhile had been having problems with his motorbike. Realizing he couldnt fix it himself he abandoned it at a local garage—which was closed—with a note asking them to check it out in the morning. Then—needing a bed for the night—he walked to Witch Cottage.

  When he realized Miss Lee wasnt home—he let himself in . . .

  He paused. I took the cue.

  —he had his own key?—I said.

  —no—but he knew that a spare key was left on the stone ledge above 3 0 4

  R E G I N A L D H I L L

  the front door—which implies a considerable familiarity does it not? Then he sat in the kitchen drinking Miss Lees whisky—till he thought he heard a noise. He went into the passage—saw nothing—returned to his whisky. Then a little later—twenty minutes perhaps—he wanted to go to the toilet. In the passage he noticed that the door of the treatment room—closed before—was now ajar. He looked inside—saw Mr Hollis on the table—realized there was something seriously wrong—that one of the needles was plunged in far too deeply—& he was attempting to pull it out when my officers interrupted him—

  —how did they get in?—I asked.

  —another good question!—they found the front door open—he said.

  —does Mr Godley say he left it like that?—I asked.

  —no—he is adamant he closed it behind him—he said.

  I said—when your men brought Mr Godley in—did he need to go to the toilet?—

  He looked surprised—then checked his notes & said—in fact yes he did—

  urgently—I see what youre getting at—this supports his story—on the other hand—with us men—stress often brings on the need to urinate or defecate—& killing somebody would be most stressful I imagine—especially for a healer. But that was a good point Miss Heywood—do go on—

  He was inviting me—almost provoking

  me—to

  speculate—which was

  rather flattering. But I wanted to get away & mull over these things by myself.

  I stood up & said—where is Mr Godley now?—would it be possible to see him?—

  To my surprise he said—no problem—in fact one of our cars is giving him a lift to his home in Willingdene—so they can drop you at Kyoto House en route—

  Gobsmacked—I said—you mean youre letting him go?—

  —we dont hold people unless weve got good reason Miss Heywood—he said.

  Which—of course—wasnt really an answer.

  Pascoe now shook my hand & said—thank you for helping us. I may need to talk to you

  again—if thats all right—& dont worry about your emails.

  Need-to- know is my watchword! Shirley!—

  T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 3 0 5

  Hed opened the door into the bigger room. Bitch Novello was there—still not meeting my gaze.

  Pascoe said—drop Miss Heywood off as you pass Kyoto—will you?—

  Neither of us spoke as Novello led me down the stairs & across the lawn to where a police car was waiting. I could see Mr Godley sitting in the back.

  Novello opened the rear door for me & I got in.

  Every time I see Mr Godley I seem to adjust his age downward. Id got him down to nearer thirty than forty—but today when he turned those gentle gray eyes on me—if it hadnt been for the grizzled beard—he could have been a frightened teenager. In fact—up close—I could see that the beard wasnt so much grizzled as gilded—the lighter colored hairs amidst the dark brown being bright gold rather than gray. Some ge netic quirk—I thought—or maybe hes got highlights! He was wearing jeans & a t-shirt—the former a bit too big—the latter a bit too small. Meaning theyd got his own clothes for examination—so he was still some way from being out of the woods.

  He did his usual shrinking away thing—& when I said—how are you?—he said—fine—in a choked sort of voice—& turned his head to look out of the window.

  Novello had got in the front passenger seat. She looked round & said to Mr Godley—wheres our driver then?—

  —he said something about getting a cup of coffee—said Mr Godley.

  —Jesus!—said

  Novello—whats he think hes on?—a coach tour of the dales?—

  Then she got out & strode off back toward the garage.

  I said—nows our chance—we could make a run for it—

  He looked round at me & said—why should I want to run?—

  I said—I didnt mean anything—look Mr Godley while Ive got the chance—I just want to say I think its absolutely ludicrous suspecting you of being involved in Lady Denhams murder—

  He looked at me blankly for a moment—then he smiled—& bang went another 5 years!

  —thank you—he said—thank you—

  To my horror I realized that—above the smile—there were tears in his eyes.

  3 0 6

&nb
sp; R E G I N A L D H I L L

  —sorry—he said—brushing them away—its just that—a kind word—from you—

  I wasnt really listening—I was too busy staring at his hands. It wasnt till he raised them to his face that I realized he was wearing handcuffs!

  I burst out—I thought they were letting you go—Pascoe said they were taking you home—

  —oh yes—he said—so that they can search it with me there—

  —what a bastard that man is!—I cried.

  —hes doing his job—he said resignedly.

  —Im going to put in a complaint!—I fulminated.

  Hed been looking at me sort of assessingly—rather disconcerting—seeing hed never managed to meet my gaze for more than a split second on our previous meetings.

  He said—Miss Heywood—could you do something for me?—if you see Doris—could you tell her Im all right?—& no matter what they say—I havent said anything?—

  I said—Doris?—

  He said—Im sorry—Miss Lee—

  I said—but I thought she was called Yan—

  He said—thats her professional name—she was christened Doris—

  —christened?—I said. For some reason I found myself thinking—Miss Lees converted so that they can get married in whatever happy- clappy cha-pel Godly Gordon worships at—but whos daft idea was it to lumber her with a name like Doris?!

  Then I pulled myself up & said—sorry Mr Godley—your private relationships are your own business—yes—of course Ill pass on your message—

  He was looking all anguished—us trick cyclists are good at spotting that kind of thing—the facial spasms & writhing lips are the subtle clinical signs we look out for—then he burst out—shes my sister!—

  Well I was fair gobsmacked!—stunnered!—dundercowpt!—all those other things dad is whenever something happens to remind him its the 21st century!

  —but youre not Chinese—are you?—I said stupidly.

  At least that made him smile again.

  T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 3 0 7

  —youve noticed—he said. 1st time Id heard him make anything like a joke.

  Then it all came out.

  Miss Lee is really Doris Godley—Gordons half sister! His dad married the daughter of a Taiwanese couple who ran a takeaway in Leeds. They produced Doris. When she was 9 her mother died. Cancer. Gordons dad married again a year later. Shortly afterward Gordon appeared. When he was 5 his mum ran off with a

  salesman—& Gordon was more or less

  brought up by his half sister—Doris. Age 16 she started working in her grandparents takeaway—till they sold up & went back to Taiwan. After that she was a checkout girl at Tescos—but shed got interested in acu puncture through some practitioner her grandparents used—name of Yan Lee—&

  acted as a sort of part- time assistant cum apprentice. When Yan Lee died a few years later—Doris thought of taking over but found the old ethnic clientele didnt much fancy being stuck with—& by—Doris Godley from Tescos.

  By this time Gordon—now

  19—had discovered his—alleged!—healing

  powers—though this was a talent not much valued in the council wages office where he worked.

  Then—a few years on—their dad died leaving them a surprisingly large insurance payout & the family home—a terrace house in a bit of Leeds which was in the pro cess of being gentrified. So—with a bit of money to play

  with—they each decided to follow their true calling. Doris headed upmarket—first moving to Harrogate & taking over her old mentors name—Yan Lee—even recycling some of her professional certificates for added authenticity.

  Eventually she fetched up in Sandytown—because a patient whose arthritis she did wonders for turned out to be Lady Denhams land agent!

  He was the one Lady D told to do the deal with Avalon while she was putting Sir Harry through his paces in the Caribbe an! Hearing Doris was looking for new premises he said—why not relocate completely?—Sandytowns on the up—exaggerating a bit probably cos he wanted his own treatment source handy! As a sweetener he offered a generous 10 year lease on Witch Cottage.

  She thought it all looked a bit too Sleepy Hollowish to start with—but 3 0 8

  R E G I N A L D H I L L

  clever agent made sure she met Tom Parker—already a crazy fan of alternative medicine. So she stayed—& when the Great Consortium sprang into being—with Toms plans for promoting alternative therapies—she thought

  shed really got it made.

  But there was a downside. Lady D now began to look at all her many land & property holdings in the light of the new marketing opportunities on offer. Eventually it occurred to her that Witch Cottage—picturesque &

  historical—was a potential mini- goldmine. Guided tours—local fare—a gift shoppe! The only trouble was Miss Lees lease—watertight—& with renewal options. Doris was unbudgeable. She knew a good thing when she saw it.

  But dear old Daph was no slouch when it came to fi nding angles! Somehow she found out the truth about Doris & she put it to her—if she insisted on the terms of her lease—Lady D would go public—taking the high moral ground—insisting that the good name of Sandytown would be soiled forever—if they permitted a known con artist to continue practicing her un-qualified medicine there!

  Nothing Doris could do but agree to move out. When she told Gordon he was furious—hence the row with his hostess at the hog roast.

  But none of this did he want the police to know—because of what it would do to his sisters reputation if it got out.

  I told him he was crazy—he was under suspicion of murder for Godsake!—he had to come clean. But he was adamant. He owed Doris more than he could ever repay. In any case—he said—in this country innocent people dont get condemned for crimes they havent committed.

  I started to say—if you beleive that youll beleive anything.

  Then suddenly Novello & Wield appeared.

  The sergeant said—change of plan—we need to talk to you a bit more Mr Godley—

  & he started to help Gordon out of the car.

  At the same time Novello opened the front passenger door. I saw her pick something up from the seat—& start slipping it into her pocket.

  I leaned forward & got hold of her wrist.

  It was a mobile phone—& it was switched on.

  T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 3 0 9

  Novello didnt pull away or anything—just turned bright red—confi rming what my mind was telling me.

  Id been put in the car with Gordon Godley to get him to talk—& uglymug Wield & cunningbastard Pascoe had been listening in on everything he said!

  What was worse—Gordon had paused half out of the car & was taking in this little scene—only—from the way he turned those big gentle eyes on me like a dear old Labrador whose own er has inexplicably given him a hard kick—he had jumped to the conclusion that I was in on it!

  I yelled—no! I didnt know!—really!—

  But already Wield was marching him away from me.

  Novello started to slide across into the drivers seat—saying—right—Ill drive you home now—

  I opened the door & got out.

  —fuck you—I said—fuck you & all the rest of you—Ill walk—

  OK—not the most elegant of put-downs—I thought of several much better on my way back up the hill—but none of them good enough to damp down my anger. When I got back to Kyoto Minnie was waiting for me—gagging for a blow-by-blow account—but I brushed past the poor kid & came straight up to my room to e you. O God Cassie—I wish you were here so we could talk—face to face. Something like this happens & suddenly everyone looks different—everything has at least a double meaning—theres nobody to trust.

  Id pack my bag & head for home—except I know that Id just take all this other baggage with me. You used to say one day it would get me into real trouble—always putting the most sensational interpretation on the most ordinary of incidents. But thi
s time Im not fantasizing.

  Shit has happened—is still happening—here in Sandytown—& Im not leaving till Ive helped clean it up!

  Lots of love

  Charley xxxxxx

  4

  I need to watch myself!

  Felt a bit knackered when I got back and had my last chat with Mildred, and thought I’d take forty winks. When I woke, it had been at least an hour and I’d have been happy to make it longer! It felt real good lying there on my bed—like a day off at home when there’s no reason to get up afore opening time.

  But I knew it weren’t really good. In fact, it were downright bad.

  When a Home starts feeling like home, that means you’re getting insti-tutionalized! All them proud words to Pascoe about being a cop first, a patient second, seemed just hot air. Didn’t have a good CID thought in me. Needed to snap meself out of that, so rolled off the bed, doused my head in cold water, and settled down to read the Heywood lass’s e-mails.

  That helped a lot, made me ashamed of myself. I mean, here’s me, the great detective, can hardly drag himself out of bed, and here’s this young lass, bright as a button, sharp eyes taking everything in, nebby as a nor-rie, always making connections, not scared of two and two making five, in fact sometimes she could jump to conclusions for England!

  I laughed out loud at the bits she wrote about me.

  Could Pete be right about her writing that note to Daph? Not likely, I’d say. Any lass brought up on Stompy Heywood’s farm’s going to have a right down-to- earth attitude to the animal kingdom. No cruelty, but no sentimentality either. Mind you, owt’s possible when you’ve been a student. Whatever, it’s real good intelligence, this stuff. Bet she hates Ivor’s guts for spreading it around! Hope Pete’s got the sense to be straight with her. Could be useful if he keeps her onside.

  T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 3 1 1

  But I can’t sit around here all day when there’s work to be done. I told Pete I’d take statements from Fester and Pet. Who should I start with? Pet’s handiest, but I reckon the longer I keep her waiting, the gabbier she’ll be. So I’ll take a stroll up to the clinic and see if I can wipe that smile off them teeth! I’d best take these e-mails with me. Don’t want Pet doing a search for illegal substances and coming across these.