The door opened and the pretty young girl in the blue nylon overall entered. She seemed to have been told by the powers that were in the kitchen to look after his needs. Dalziel approved. Paternally, of course, he assured himself, dismissing a mental image of himself slowly unbuttoning the overall which in the height of summer was probably over very little. His fingers compensated by unbuttoning his waistcoat, leaving dabs of butter on the charcoal grey cloth.
“Are you finished, sir?’ she asked.
He swallowed mightily.
“I think I am, my dear. My compliments to whoever prepared it.”
She began to gather together the dishes.
“Tell me,’ he said, ”s your name?” “Elizabeth,’ she said. ‘ Andrews.”
“Well, Elizabeth, have you been here long?” “Over a year,’ she said.
“Do you like it?” “It’s all right,’ she said.
“It’ll fill in the time till you find a lad and get married, eh?’ said Dalziel jovially. If they’re going to regard you as a bloody uncle, you might as well act like a bloody uncle, he thought.
The girl didn’t reply. Slightly flushed, she swiftly piled the remaining dishes on her tray and moved gracefully out of the room.
Even in his faint surprise, Dalziel was able to admire her figure in retreat, which was more than he could do for the advancing form of Detective-Inspector Kent which appeared through the door before the girl could close it.
“Lovely morning, sir,’ said Kent happily, peering through the window at the sun-drenched garden, whose border and rockeries were ablaze with colour. The winds of the previous day had quite abated and only the canvas cover over the hole left by the base of Miss. Girling’s statue obtruded into the pastoral idyll which lay without.
Had things gone according to Landor’s plans, the garden would by now have been trenched and torn by foundations for the new laboratory.
Dalziel had asked for the work to be postponed. He was almost certain now that nothing new could be learned from an examination of the earth.
But you never knew — and in any case it was much pleasanter to sit here undisturbed by the unbeautiful cacophony of the building trade.
“Sergeant Pascoe not here?’ asked Kent.
“No,’ said Dalziel. ”s off doing some work.”
There was little subtlety in his stresses, but Kent took it in his stride.
“Just thought I’d call in before going up to the clubhouse,’ he said.
“I’ve brought in the medical report on the girl. 1
“Stick it on the desk,’ said Dalziel. ‘ it confirm what the doctor said on the spot?”
“Yes. Not nice. Suffocated in the sand,’ said Kent. ‘ throat and nostrils were absolutely blocked up with it.”
“Anything strike you?”
“Not really. Just the obvious. Between 10 p.m. and 3 a.m. And no sexual assault. That’s a bit odd.”
“Why?”
“Well, in the circumstances. I mean, why take off her clothes?”
“Why, indeed? Well, you’d better get on with it. Though I doubt you’ll find anything more up there. How’s the questioning?”
The difficulty is finding anyone to question,’ said Kent. ”s not exactly overcrowded out there. By the by, talking of finding, is there anything on that bra?” “What? Oh that. Yes,’ said Dalziel, annoyed at having to be asked. ”re looking for a girl with a 34 inch bust whose initials might be F or E, N or A. They had been marked, but many washes ago. It’s probably nothing to do with this anyway. It must be a popular spot in those dunes and a few articles of clothing are bound to go adrift.” “Ay,’ said Kent gloomily. ‘ found any number of old French letters.
But a bra’s a bit different, isn’t it? And if it had the owner’s initials on, that must have been for a reason. Like identification in communal living, I mean. Like here.”
“We’ll make a detective out of you yet,’ said Dalziel only half sarcastically. ‘ a look at the student list. See if any of the initials fit.”
“OK, sir,’ said Kent. ‘, I’m off. Who’s for golf, eh?”
He went out of the door making minute swinging motions of the arm and clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
Dalziel turned to the desk and began organizing his day’s business.
Already he had accumulated an amazing amount of paper in the form of reports, statements, directives, instructions etc., etc., and the two drawers vacated for him by Landor in the filing cabinet were quite full.
The principal had by no means completed his removals to the new administration centre and even Dalziel felt reluctant to urge him to get a move on.
He called in a uniformed constable to help sort things out and to answer the telephone. He was beginning to feel the irritation which always grew on him if he found himself cooped up unproductively for no matter how short a length of time.
It came as a relief when Simeon Landor arrived in midmorning and reminded him about the staff meeting.
“You said you’d come and say a few words,’ he said apologetically. ‘ just want to put everyone formally in the picture, that’s all. It’s just ten minutes during coffee break so that everyone can attend without cutting lectures. If you’re too busy, please say so, and I’ll
… ” “Not at all,’ said Dalziel expansively. I’ll be glad of the chance to meet them all collectively. After all, you’re the people who must know what goes on round here. You’ve a right to all the information we have.”
He gave a few quick instructions to the constable, then left with Landor, enjoying the feel of the sun on his balding pate as they made their way towards the building which housed the Senior Common Room.
Conversation stopped for a moment as Landor ushered him into the crowded room, but almost immediately some of the more ancient inmates, the Misses Scotby and Disney much in evidence, demonstrated their good breeding by continuing their conversations at a higher pitch than before and looking fixedly away from Dalziel.
Landor supplied him with a cup of coffee and led him to a chair behind a table at the far end of the room.
“May we begin?’ he said in a voice so conversational that Dalziel imagined he was being addressed directly despite the fact that Landor had half-turned his back on him. But he quickly realized that the principal was addressing his staff. Evidently in these circles you didn’t shout or ring a bell to bring a meeting to order, you merely spoke to those nearest you and by some aural osmosis the message eventually reached the other end of the room.
Thank you,’ said Landor. ‘ this is not a formal meeting so there will be no minutes either read, or taken. But as far as possible I suggest we stick to our usual modes of procedure. Most of you will know, by sight at least, Superintendent Dalziel. He has kindly agreed to come along today to put us in the picture, as it were. Everyone here will be aware of the double set of tragic circumstances which have necessitated his presence in the college. However, it is often difficult to separate truth from rumour and the better informed we are, the better informed the student body will be. Superintendent Dalziel.”
Dalziel stood up heavily and viewed his audience. Up until this moment he had had no real idea of what he was going to say. Now, faced by this polite blank of faces, he reacted to their common denominator (bloody clever bastards, all of ‘, he thought mockingly) by selecting a role Pascoe would have recognized with an inward groan. The blunt, unsubtle policeman.
“I’ll be brief,’ he said. ‘ things first. The remains found in the college garden on Wednesday have been identified as those of Miss. Girling, the former principal of this college. We are treating it as a case of murder.” He paused. One or two shifted slightly in their chairs. Miss. Disney’s face was a mask of stoically-borne grief.
“Yesterday, Thursday, the naked body of a student, Anita Sewell, was found in the dunes by the golf course. She had died of asphyxiation as a result of having her face forced down into the sand some time late on Wednesday night or early Thursday morning.
She had not been sexually assaulted. This too we are treating as murder.” He paused again. Now there was a general shifting of position. Several cigarettes were lit. Halfdane leaned over to Henry Saltecombe and said something. The older man nodded vigorously. A man recognized from Pascoe’s description as George Dunbar was smiling faintly with the complacent look of one to whom this was all very old stuff. He couldn’t spot Fallowfield at all, but the pretty woman sitting between Marion Cargo and Halfdane (triumphantly?) was possibly Pascoe’s old mate.
Miss. Disney opened her mouth to speak. He let the first syllable get out, then continued, overriding her without a glance in her direction.
“I’ve told you nothing you won’t read in the newspapers. Probably have read already. But it’s often useful to have it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”
A slight ripple of laughter.
“You’re the people who ought to know. You’re the ones who can reassure the students here.”
“You haven’t really given us much to reassure them with, Superintendent.’ It was Halfdane. ‘ don’t you propose to talk to them direct? After all, they’re just as important as we in this institution.
Perhaps more so.”
A couple of mutters of agreement. More indignant snorts.
“I can’t talk to them all at once. Not without turning it into a rally.
In any case, you’re the ones who are paid to talk to these youngsters.
You’re their teachers.”
Halfdane started up again indignantly, but Dunbar beat him to it.
Tell me, when did you find out it was Miss. Girling in the garden?” This was confirmed on Wednesday evening,’ said Dalziel. ‘?”
“I just wondered how half the college seemed to have this information on Wednesday afternoon?”
Dalziel nodded for the want of anything else to do.
“You mean, staff?”
“I mean students.”
There was a confirmatory murmur from half a dozen places in the room.
“You surprise me,’ said Dalziel. ‘ Miss. Girling died nearly six years ago, I should have thought it unlikely that any student could have known anything about it.”
The implications of the stress were caught immediately, but Dalziel was not impressed by this display of sharpness of wit. Anyone with half a mind must have realized days earlier that he’d be interested in the old-established members of staff.
Landor obviously decided he must take back control of the meeting.
“Thank you, Superintendent. I know we will all assist you in every way we can. What is important I think is that we carry on as normal, and I know that you will be eager to assist us in this.” “Of course,’ said Dalziel, still standing. ‘ our work comes first.
Let’s be clear about that. Disruption of your work is unfortunate.
Disruption of mine amounts to obstruction of the law.”
Again the raised eyebrows bit, the exchange of glances, the pursing of lips. Henry Saltecombe stood up waving his pipe apologetically, scattering warm embers over his neighbours.
“One question,’ he said. ‘ you think these two dreadful businesses are connected in any way? Or is it merely some terrible coincidence?” Pascoe had asked this. Dalziel wondered how he was getting on at the airport. Even if he got nowhere, he’d get there thoroughly. He would probably have made a damn sight better job of this side of the business as well. He might have some understanding of these people. Dalziel tried not to despise them because that could easily lead to underestimation of ability (criminal, of course), and misinterpretation of motive. But six months’ holiday a year and a working life centred on reading books… I The scientists he could go along with to some extent, but surely someone, some day, was going to sort out the rest!
“As a policeman, I distrust coincidence,’ he replied.
“And I, as a historian,’ said Saltecombe. Those about him smiled. He must have made a funny, thought Dalziel.
The woman who might be Pascoe’s friend now rose with a suddenness that suggested she had been hurled by a spring through a stage trapdoor.
“What I’d like to know is how we’re expected to maintain hard fought-for personal relationships with our students in an allegedly democratic institution when we permit the civil authorities to so blatantly take control of our decision-making. I would remind the principal that his loyalties ought to be to the college and its members,’ she rattled out at a great rate, then sat down as abruptly as she had risen.
Miss. Disney swelled visibly, as though someone was pumping air into her body through some inimaginable orifice, but she took too long about it and it was Miss. Scotby who stood up, arrow-straight, and spoke first.
“I would suggest that Miss. Soper thinks less about personal relationships and more about pastoral responsibilities.”
The sat down. Dalziel did not have the faintest idea whether this was a match-winning riposte or not. There was a small outbreak of probably ironic applause from the back of the room. Ellie Soper rolled her eyes upwards in mock despair.
Landor rose.
“Yes, I agree there are one or two purely internal and academic matters we ought to discuss, but I see no reason to keep Superintendent Dalziel from his very important duties.”
He wants me out, thought Dalziel. Before they get too rude. Perhaps he thinks I’m sensitive!
The thought pleased him and he smiled benevolently at the staff who were obviously sitting in tense expectation of the hand-to-hand fighting which seemed likely to follow his departure.
“It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Landor,’ he said. ‘, I can find my own way back. Good day to you all. Ladies. Gentlemen.”
It might be interesting to hear what they say, he thought as he closed the door behind him. But it’d only have curiosity value. He rarely questioned his own powers of perception, but he now admitted he’d probably have difficulty in taking in whatever the hell it was they were going on about. They seemed to treat words as things of power, not as tools. They could get stuffed. He had work to do.
A girl started walking by his side as he descended the stairs. He glanced sideways at her. Long hair, sallow skin, hive-shaped breasts inadequately supported under a darned grey sweater.
“I want a word with you,’ she said casually.
Lords of the bloody earth, he thought. First that lot back there. Now this.
“Why?’ he said, not slackening his pace. They passed through the main door of the building out into the sunlight. She made a concession to it by thrusting the sleeves of her sweater up over her elbows, producing as a side effect a gentle breast-bobbing, which caught his eye.
“I was a friend of Anita’s.”
She didn’t look as if she were about to cry on his shoulder, so he continued the hard line.
“So what?”
“So either bloody well listen or not.”
He stopped and faced her.
“Haven’t you got a bra on?’ he asked.
“No. Does it disturb you?”
“What’s your name?”
“Sandra. Sandra Firth.” “Oh,’ he said, disappointed. ‘ right. I can give you five minutes.”
They set off walking once more.
Thanks,’ she said. ‘ you wear a corset?”
“Please,’ he groaned as he led the way into Landor’s study. ‘ one thing. My interpreter’s away at the moment. So just keep it simple, eh?”
“All right,’ she said. ‘ you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.”
“Hello? Hello!’ said Pascoe. ‘. Ja. Ich bin Pascoe. Pascoe! Hello!
Was ist… oh, for Christ’s sake!”
He resisted the temptation to slam the ‘ down only because he knew that the small beach-head he had achieved would then have to be laboriously reestablished.
“Hello?’ said a female voice, loud and clear.
“Yes? Ja. Ja. Pascoe hier.”
“This is the operator, Sergeant Pascoe,’ said the voice in icy tones.
“Y
our call to Innsbruck will be through in one moment. Please wait.” Thanks,’ he said. ‘! Hier ist Pascoe!”
He was beginning to have doubts about the wisdom of his actions in all kinds of ways.
The previous day he had with Dalziel’s authority telegraphed a request for assistance to the Innsbruck police. It had seemed a good idea at the time to suggest the information required be transmitted through a direct telephone link twenty-four hours later.
Now he recalled uneasily how keen Dalziel was on economy in matters of public money. Other people’s economies, of course; Dalziel himself was very ready to spend any money thus saved.
In addition, Pascoe was having doubts about the adequacy of his German.
It had been some years since he had used it and he was beginning to fear the old fluency had gone.
The next couple of minutes seemed to prove him right. The ” he had surrounded himself with were more of a nuisance than a help. The carefully looked-up words for ‘ list’, ‘ officer’, ‘passport control’, even ”, seemed to present considerable difficulty to the man at the other end.
“Wiedersagen bitte,’ said Pascoe for the fifth or sixth time. ‘. Ein Moment.”
He began ruffling through the pages of his English-German dictionary once more, unable to discover anything vaguely resembling the word he had just heard.
Finally there was a strange noise from the receiver which might have been a polite cough squeezed and contorted through several hundred miles of telephone cable.
“Say, Sergeant, how would you like it if I tried my English out on you?
It’s a vanity of mine and I’d appreciate the practice.”
The shame of the moment was almost lost in Pascoe’s surprise that the words were spoken with a strong American accent.
That would be fine,’ he said, with relief. He hoped the operator was not listening in.
The only difficulties now were minor variations of American usage soon overcome.
“We checked out the airport and the hotel without much joy from either.
An Advancement of Learning dap-2 Page 9
