“Then it was your idea to eavesdrop on me and Mr. Godley talking in the police car, was it?”
“Eh?”
There was a massive conviction about that eh? which persuaded Charley more than oath or argument that Dalziel was truly ignorant of the mobile phone ruse.
Briefly she explained what had happened. She saw no reason not to tell him what Godley had said. All it did was explain the oddities of the healer’s behavior, and that sly sod Pascoe probably had it on tape anyway.
Far from disapproving the ruse, Dalziel seemed inclined to take some credit for it.
“Nose like a retriever, Pete,” he said complacently. “Give him a sniff of a hint and he’s up and after it instantly.”
“It was a monstrous thing to do. And probably illegal,” she retorted.
“Steady on, lass. It’s a cop’s job to get at the truth any way he can.”
“Even if it means hurting people!”
“Can’t see why Godley should feel hurt. It were him holding back that made it necessary in the fi rst place.”
“I’m talking about me! It looked like I was part of the deception.
That’s what Mr. Godley went away thinking, anyway!”
“Oh dear,” said Dalziel. “Now I can see how that would really hurt him. Never mind. Yon shitlit’s full of misunderstandings, isn’t it?
Makes it all the sweeter when he finds out the truth and realizes you weren’t in on it.”
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Charley, assuming he meant chick lit and also assuming he knew what he meant, tried to work out the implications of this.
“Hang about,” she said. “You said it was you gave Pascoe the hint.
What hint was that?”
“I think I said summat about Godley fancying you rotten, and that probably set Pete thinking he might open up to you. Clever, eh?”
Charley shook her head violently. She felt control of the conversation slipping irretrievably from her grasp. She tried a laugh—truly what he’d just said was daft enough to laugh at—but somehow she couldn’t manage it.
“You’re mad,” she said. “He thinks I’m a waste of space, takes him all his time to stay in the same room as me.”
“Takes some lads like that,” said the Fat Man. “Crazy for you but doesn’t think he’s got a cat in hell’s chance, you being so attractive and superior and way out of his league.”
“Me? ”
“Aye. Love’s a bit shortsighted, isn’t that what they say? Come on, young Charley. Driving a young man to distraction’s not all that bad, is it?”
“Not a young man, maybe,” said Charley, still trying to get her head round what he’d said. How did he manage to assert what was so manifestly crazy with such authority?
“Picky, are we?” said Dalziel. “Thirty’s young by my standards.”
“Thirty?”
“Just turned, I saw his details on the incident room board. Okay, that face fungus makes him look older, but that’s likely why he wears it. Gives him a bit of gravitas.”
Charley tried to envisage a shaven Mr. Godley, but it wouldn’t come. In any case, it didn’t matter. Thirty, forty, fi fty, even in the remote contingency Dalziel was right, the poor sod was doomed to suffer till he got over it.
“Look,” she said. “None of this matters, does it? The important 3 7 8
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thing is, what he told me puts him out of the frame, as you lot say, right?”
“You reckon?” said Dalziel dubiously. “Should have thought it gives him and Miss Lee a good motive for being seriously pissed off with Lady D. He were seen quarreling with her, tha knows. In fact, I think you were one of them as fi ngered him.”
“No I didn’t,” she protested angrily. “All I said was . . . and I didn’t know it was going to be grand jury testimony . . . anyway, it was hardly a killing matter, was it?”
“I’ve known folk kill for less,” he said. “And it could have been an accident.”
“An accidental strangling? Come on!” she mocked. “And what about Ollie Hollis? That was no accident. Why would Mr. Godley want to kill him?”
“Mebbe Ollie saw something that could tie Godley in to the murder?”
“That’s stupid! If his motive for quarreling with Lady Denham was to protect his sister, he’s hardly going to commit murder in her treatment room, is he?”
Dalziel nodded his great gray head approvingly.
“There,” he said. “Knew I were right about you, Charley. Good bit of logic to back up what both of us think without benefit of logic—that Mr. Godley ain’t no killer. So who’s next?”
“You’re the detective,” she said. “Also I’m getting a bit fed up with this one- way traffic. You’ve got my e-mails plus a tape of a private conversation. Time to share a bit of what you know, I’d say. Or is this ee by gum lass, I think thee and me could make a grand partnership stuff just another ploy like Novello’s and Pascoe’s?”
“Fair enough,” he said without hesitation. “Turn and turn about it is. And I promise you, nowt you tell me will get passed on without your say- so. Right?”
“Right,” she said. “So now it’s your turn, Andy.”
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“Okay. Let’s go through the suspects. Best get you out of the way first, I suppose.”
“Me?”
“Aye. Pete Pascoe reckons your lousy spelling puts you in the frame.”
He explained about the anonymous letters with their spelling error.
“I’ve always had bother with e’s and i’s,” she said. “But no one bothers in an e-mail, right?”
“Don’t say that to Pete Pascoe,” said Dalziel. “If he left a suicide note, I’d know it were forged if there were just one semicolon out of place. Not to worry, but. My reading of you is that if you did decide to write an anonymous letter, any clues it gave wouldn’t be mistakes but deliberate red herrings.”
He seemed to intend it as a compliment.
“You’re saying I’d make a good criminal?” said Charley.
“That’s what it takes to make a good detective,” he said. “Look at me. One gene more or less and I could have been the Napoleon of crime!”
He put his hand under his shirt and looked out to sea with such a lugubrious expression, she laughed out loud.
“If that’s meant to be Napoleon, remind me not to ask for your Jimmy Cagney!”
“Jimmy Cagney? Bit old for you. No, hang on, it’s all them movies your mam loves to watch, right? Sorry, didn’t mean to tread into the personal stuff, but it’s all tangled up in your e-mails, isn’t it? Listen, I’ll give you another one for free, just to prove good faith. Fester and Pet!”
“Who?”
“Dr. Lester Feldenhammer and Nurse Petula Sheldon. You met them at that do in the clinic. And you saw them at the hog roast.”
“That’s right. What about them?”
“Come on, luv. In your e-mails you mention Mary Parker fi lling 3 8 0
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you in on Daph having the hots for Fester. And his affections being engaged elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere being Nurse Sheldon? So what are you saying? A crime of passion? Aren’t they a bit old for that?”
“Christ, you really are ageist, aren’t you? Pet and Fester are younger than me, and I can still tear a passion if I put my mind to it. They had a bloody great row at the party that ended with Pet hurling her wine over Daph.”
“Hardly lethal, is it?”
“No, but it’s a step in the wrong direction.”
She shook her head.
“No. A woman chucks wine ’cos she’s pissed off with someone.
Killing them takes passionate jealousy, and I can’t see Sheldon being jealous of someone thirty years older than she is. Anyway, sticking her in the hog roast cage suggests intent rather than impulse, doesn’t it?”
He nodded complacently. He
was right. She was quick. Pete would probably kill him for giving away confidential info about the case, but he had the feeling that young Heywood would sniff out prevarication like the Holy Inquisition.
He said, “Maybe there was intent. Maybe Pet and Fester were more than just irritated by Daph.”
She said slowly, “Yes, I’ve been wondering about that. If Feldenhammer wanted to stop Daph bothering him, why not simply tell her it was no go? Okay, she was persis tent. Most women would have taken the hint when he ran away to Switzerland for six months. And when she followed him out there, why not just say, Enough’s enough, act your age, woman! Unless . . .”
Dalziel leaned forward and nodded his head encouragingly.
“Unless what?” he said.
“Unless,” said Charley, “unless she had some sort of a hold over him. From the way she set about getting Miss Lee out of Witch Cottage, she clearly wasn’t above a bit of blackmail!”
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The Fat Man sat back in his chair and beamed at her.
“If I weren’t promised, Charley, I might ask Stompy for leave to marry thee.”
“If you did, I’d run a lot farther than Switzerland,” she retorted.
“Okay, so that’s the conclusion you’ve reached too, so it has to be right! Have you any idea what?”
“Not yet, but I’ll find out. Then we’ll see if what she was using to pull his string were important enough to make him want to cut hers.”
The wail of the ambulance siren came floating up from the town again.
Dalziel let it fade away, then leaned forward in his chair and said,
“So what do you think about all this, Minnie?”
Charley turned her head and for the first time observed the small figure hunched up at the end of the terrace. Slowly the girl straightened up, stretched her arms, and yawned, as if just awaking from a deep sleep.
“Sorry?” she said.
The Fat Man clapped his hands together thunderously.
“By God, she’s good, ain’t she, Charley? Maggie Smith, watch out!
Come on, luv, you’ve won your Oscar, now you can join the party.
Owt you can tell us about poor old Lady Denham, or about any bugger, that might help?”
Minnie, like Charley, didn’t waste time weighing decisions.
Looking fully alert, she scrambled to her feet and came to join them.
“What sort of thing?” she said.
“Anything at all, long as it’s stuff no one else is likely to know.”
Minnie’s face screwed up in concentration for a moment, then she said, “Well, what you were saying about Big Bum . . . sorry, Lady Denham . . . and Dr. Feldenhammer, I think she really liked him a lot, ’cos when Miss Watson our head teacher caught Mr. Standfast, our deputy head, doing sex with the dinner lady, she sacked them both, even though she was doing it with Mr. Standfast too.”
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Charley looked at her in shocked bewilderment, but Dalziel nodded his huge head as if this made perfect sense and said, “Lady Denham didn’t mind, though?”
“Well, I don’t know if she didn’t mind exactly, but she still kept on liking Dr. Feldenhammer even after she saw him doing it with the Indian lady.”
This was getting seriously weird, thought Charley, and she sent her mind scuttling through her textbooks in search of a subtle psychological technique for getting the girl to open up further.
The Fat Man said, “The Indian lady . . . ,” as if this rang some kind of bell, then he bared his big yellow teeth in the kind of an-ticipatory rictus that might twitch the jaws of a somnolent crocodile identifying the rhythmic splashing noise that has been disturbing him as the sound of an approaching swimmer.
He said, “Oh aye. Now I remember. Old Fester and the Indian lady. Right! Don’t think Charley knows about her, but. Why don’t you tell her the story?”
Did he really know what Minnie was talking about, or was this just his own personal technique, worked out without benefit of textbooks, for getting the girl to reveal all? The latter, she guessed. The old sod was a lot cleverer than he looked. Not too difficult, of course, when you looked like Cro-Magnon man!
Minnie, reveling in the spotlight, said, “It was my last birthday, Uncle Sid bought me a new bike, a proper one, not a kid’s. Mum said it was too expensive and Uncle Sid said nonsense, he always bought the people he loved best a bike, he thought it should be a family tradition. Anyway, Mum and Dad bought me a digital camera and that was quite expensive.”
“Aye, well, the best deserve nowt but the best, eh?” said Dalziel.
Minnie looked pleased and continued, “I went for a ride along the coast, and after a bit I stopped for a rest and I saw Big Bum . . . sorry, Lady . . .”
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“Big Bum’ll do, luv,” said Dalziel. “Don’t think she’ll mind now.
When is your birthday, by the way?”
“September ninth, next month. I’ll be ten,” she said hopefully.
“I’ll not forget,” said Dalziel. “St. Wulfhilda’s feast day. She were a real smart lass too. Go on with your story.”
“I saw Big Bum’s horse, Ginger. I’d seen her over the hedge earlier.
Only now Ginger was just cropping grass. I thought I’d take a picture of him and while I was doing it, Big Bum came up, and I said thank you for your birthday card, but she didn’t look like she knew what I was talking about. Then she asked if she could borrow my camera for a moment. I didn’t really want to let her have it, but she just sort of took it and went off again.”
“Where did she go?”
“Toward the cliff. It’s not very high there, not like North Cliff, more like a big sand dune. And after a few moments she came back and she said she’d need to keep the memory card. I said that meant I wouldn’t be able to take any more photos and she said all right, she’d rent it off me, ten pounds for the day.”
“Ten pounds? And did you get the ten pounds?”
“No, I got fifteen,” said the girl. “Uncle Sid says that when anyone makes an offer always ask for twice as much and never let them knock you down to less than half the extra.”
Dalziel glared a warning at Charley, who was stifling a laugh.
“So what happened next?” he asked.
“I rode on a bit, but when I looked back and saw that she’d gone, I went over to take a look at what she’d been photographing.”
“And what was it?”
“It was Dr. Feldenhammer with the Indian lady on the beach.
They were doing sex.”
“You’re sure it was Dr. Feldenhammer?” said Dalziel, forgetting he was supposed to know all of this anyway.
“Oh yes. Dr. Feldenhammer had been round to our house for dinner a couple of nights earlier. He gave me a twenty- pound note when 3 8 4
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he heard it was my birthday soon and he said I had to spend it on something I really wanted, but Mum made me put it in my savings account.”
“That’s the trouble with mums,” said Dalziel. “Always thinking of your future. Go on.”
“Well, I knew I’d get into trouble if they saw me, so I just crawled away and got back on my bike and rode off home.”
Charley said, “Minnie, when you say they were doing sex, what exactly . . . do you mean, they were kissing, or . . .”
“They had all their clothes off—that’s how I knew it was the Indian lady; she was really brown all over—and they were bouncing up and down together. It’s all right, Charley. We learned all about it at school.”
She spoke so condescendingly that Dalziel laughed out loud.
Charley said quite sharply, “This Indian lady, does she have a name?”
“I expect so,” said Minnie. “Everyone has a name. I expect hers is Indian.”
“But who was she?”
“She was from the clinic. I’
d seen her in the town once, dressed in one of those lovely silk things they wear, but I haven’t seen her for a long time, so perhaps she got another job. Does that help, Mr.
Andy?”
“I think it might, Minnie. What do you think, Charley?”
“Could do,” said Charley. “Did you ever talk to anyone about what you saw, Minnie?”
“I told Sue Locksley, my best friend at school, but she said that her babysitter does it with her boyfriend every Saturday night in the living room and it’s really boring. So I didn’t bother telling anyone else. Except Uncle Sid.”
“You told your Uncle Sidney?” said Charley. “Why did you do that?”
“He was there when I got home and he asked me how I liked the T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 3 8 5
bike and I told him it was the best present ever and he asked how far I’d ridden on it, so I told him. Uncle Sid and me tell each other everything. I wish I was old enough to marry him.”
No you don’t, love, thought Charley.
Dalziel said, “And what did Uncle Sid say, lass?”
“He told me that doing sex was really only the business of the ones doing it and I shouldn’t tell anyone else. But you don’t count, do you, Mr. Andy, because you’re a policeman?”
“Right, luv. I don’t count,” said the Fat Man. “Did he say anything else?”
“No. I said thank you again for the bike and he said I was a special girl and I said does that mean when I’m eighteen you’ll buy me a motorbike too? And he laughed and said maybe he would.”
Charley asked, “What made you think of a motorbike, Min?” then wished she hadn’t.
The girl said, “Because he bought Teddy one for his birthday, only when I heard Teddy thanking him, they said it was a secret, so maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”
“Think of me as a policeman too,” said Charley.
She didn’t look at the Fat Man, but felt his eyes on her.
He said, “What about your mum and dad? They must have wondered when Big Bum gave you fifteen pound for using your memory card.”
“I didn’t tell them,” said Minnie promptly. “They’d just have made me put it in the savings bank like Dr. Feldenhammer’s twenty pound, and I had things to spend it on.”
D&P23 - The Price of Butcher's Meat aka A Cure for all Diseases Page 39
