A Cure for All Diseases

by Reginald Hill

  I said, "Must be nice to have a smart understanding chap like Stompy for your dad so you don't have to go sucking up to any bugger."

  Roote laughed and said, "Bravo, Andy. Your compassion does you credit."

  "It's got limits," I said. "So Lady Denhams got the chinks, and Sir

  Teddy and sis are sticking close as shit to a blanket in the hope some of it rolls their way when she topples off the twig?"

  "I think that sums it up," said Roote.

  "Could be a long wait," I said. "The old bird looks good for another thirty years or more. And ain't she got blood relatives of her own, like yon skinny lass Clara?"

  "My, you really are a detective, Mr. Dalziel," said Heywood, recovering from my little put-down. "That's right. Quite a lot, I gather. And, though most of them are very long shots indeed, there's a whole bunch of her first husband's relatives on the card."

  "Looks like I'm not the only detective," I said. "Only here two minutes and you've got all the local crack noted and analyzed! So, rich old lady, lots of hopeful relations. Hope she locks her windows at night and doesn't go out in the dark."

  She said, "Your line of work has clearly clouded your view of human nature."

  I said, "You reckon? You did the Pollyanna psychology course, did you?"

  She said a bit defiantly, "I know it's a cliché, but I do think there's good in everybody if you look hard enough."

  "Me too," I said. "That's why I became a cop - so's I could spend my life turning up stones looking for it."

  I glanced down at Roote as I said this, but he just grinned back up at me like I'd offered him a compliment and said, "Charley, dear, I wonder if I could trouble you to get me a glass of fruit juice. Pomegranate if there is any, but the ubiquitous orange will do. And I see Andy's glass is empty . . ."

  "Sure," she said. "Would you like it in an earthenware jug?"

  "What's that about a jug?" I asked as she walked away.

  "Ah, the sweet enigma of a woman's words," he said. "It is not for us to seek meaning. Andy, now we're alone, there's something I want to ask you."

  "Ask away," I said. "But tek note - just because I won't hit a man in a wheelchair doesn't make us first-name friends."

  "I'm sorry," he said. "Would you prefer the official title then? Lady D was certainly very impressed when I told her you were head of Mid-Yorkshire CID."

  Now the change in buffalo woman's attitude was explained. She clearly enjoyed power, and anyone that smelt of it probably turned her on.

  "Mr. Dalziel will do," I said.

  "Oh, thank you kindly," he simpered. I found myself liking the sour- puss lass who'd shoved him aside more and more.

  "So what's it you want to ask?" I demanded.

  He turned very serious and said, "The thing is, I'm asking for a review of my case in the hope of getting the verdict overturned. I hoped you might support my appeal."

  Not many folk can gobsmack me, but somehow Roote's learned the trick.

  "Eh?" I said.

  "It's a question of getting into America for the publication of my Beddoes biography. The dean of St. Poll University called in some favours to get me a special dispensation a couple of years back - but since nine-eleven, if you've got three penalty points on your driver's license, they're reluctant to let you in. I need to be there, for interviews and signings. Keeping me out is a violation of my basic human right to make a living!"

  Just then Heywood came back with a drinks tray. Just as well else I might have forgot me scruples and picked Roote up, wheelchair and all, and hoyed him through the window! Instead I downed my bubbles in one, then grabbed another glass, hers I suppose, and drank that too. I drew the line at Roote's juice. I weren't that far gone. Heywood didn't say owt, just buggered off back to the drinks table.

  At last I could speak.

  "You want me to support your appeal against a conviction which my evidence helped to get? A conviction that's only ever bothered me because I reckon the sentence should have been twice as long!"

  "Exactly," he said. "You can see your support would really impress the court."

  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

  I said, "I need another drink."

  And I'd have gone after the lass only my legs didn't seem to want to work.

  Roote reached up and got a hold of my arm.

  "Really, you mustn't try so hard," he said seriously.

  "What the fuck are you on about? " I demanded.

  He pulled me down so he was talking in a low voice right into my face.

  "When you've been as close to death as we have," he said, "you don't just take a single step back to where you were; it's a long, long journey."

  "Thank you, Dr. Roote," I said. "I were wondering what I were doing in a conva-fucking-lescent home, and now you've spelt it out. I'm conva-fucking-lescing!"

  "I'm not just talking physical here," he said. "It's a long way back to yourself. Mostly we do it by acting ourselves. We remember the way we were and we devote all our energy to trying to get back into the part, even if it involves drinking fifteen pints before breakfast. But it is just a part, Andy. Now's the time, while youre still relearning it, to pause and consider just who this being is that's doing the learning."

  My head were really spinning now. Didn't know whether it were from Festerwhangers bubbles or Roote's babbles. Didn't care either. I pulled my arm free and came close to keeling over, except someone got a hold of my other arm and I heard Pet Sheldon say, "Time to be on our way, I think, Andy."

  Places I normally drink, no bugger calls closing time on me. I forced the world back into focus. Distantly I saw buffalo woman beckoning me like I was a headwaiter. I gave her a smile and a wave and said to Pet, "You're right, luv. Take me to bed."

  The fresh sea air hit me like a flying fish and I leaned heavily on Pet as we tacked toward the old house. There were a din like the clatter of the weaving room in an old wool mill as an ancient motorbike and side- car went rattling by. The rider had his helmet and visor on, but I recognized Mr. Godley s beard. Funny, it were likely the fresh air, but just the sight of him made me feel better.

  "There goes the healer," I said, managing to straighten up a bit. "Old Festerwhanger takes him on, you could all be out of work."

  "I shan't hold my breath," she said. "It's nursing gets sick people better, not dosing them with herbs, or sticking them with skewers."

  "Nay, lass, you shouldn't rush to mock what it says in the Bible," I said.

  "Laying on of hands and that stuff?" she said. "We've moved on a bit since then, I hope. Just because that chap looks like Jesus doesn't mean he's going to raise you from the dead. So let's get you to your bed, shall we?"

  "That's what I'm talking about, luv," I said. "Old Testament therapy. Like King David and Abishag the Shummanite. Any chance of fixing that for me?"

  She knew her Bible 'cos that made her laugh.

  "My old gran always used to say the devil could quote scripture," she said. "Now shut up or I'll drop you here on the drive and let Lady Denham run you over with that rust bucket of hers. She's a menace, that woman."

  She spoke so vehemently, I thought, There's a bit more than road rage here! What's she done to rattle your cage?

  It took me another half dozen paces to work it out. Back afore the big bang, I'd have seen it half an hour ago.

  It's old Festerwhanger! Pet's got the hots for him too! It must really get up her nose, seeing the way he fawns on Lady D and she treats him like her personal property.

  I said, slurring it a bit to encourage indiscretion, "Time for her to marry again then. Tried it twice, so she must have a taste for it."

  "Woman of her age should know better," said Pet, very pursed-lips proper. "Do you need to lean on me quite so much? A couple of glasses of wine and you're wobbling like a blancmange. I thought you detectives all had hollow legs."

  I straightened up a bit, but it were hard. Must be all that rubbish the quacks have been pumping into me. That's twice a couple of glass
es have reached parts that it used to take fifteen pints to get close to.

  Pet got me back in my room, laid me in my bed, laughed when I invited her to join me for a bit of Platonic dialogue, and buggered off. Soon as she'd gone I got up and checked my sunken treasure in the cistern. Half a bottle of malt and Mildred. Checked no bugger had been interfering with either and took a slug of the Caledonian cream.

  Always reckoned that Dr. Scotch was a cure for everything, but this time I'm having me doubts. That's why I'm sitting here on the bog, talking to Mildred. Good spot for meditation. Don't need one of them fancy computers if you've got a comfy bog - soon have this case sorted out.

  What the fuck am I talking about!? What fucking case? Am I going doolally? Mebbe being off the job's giving me withdrawal symptoms, so everything starts looking like a case waiting to happen . . . victim set up . . . suspects in place . . . motives well established . . . great detective on the spot . . . all waiting for a writer to give them the nod . . .

  For fuck's sake, you daft bugger, you've let yon scrote Roote get inside your mind! All that crap about relearning your part. And it's this place too. The Avalon. Sandytown. The sooner you get off this bog and into your bed, the better.

  But I've definitely got this feeling something bad is coming . . . something very real . . .

  Oh Jesus Christ! and here it is . . . !

  18

  Oh, Mildred, what have I done?

  Woke up feeling great, sort of cleansed and purged. No wonder after what came out in the bathroom, and if any bugger don't believe me, I can play them the sound effects, courtesy of Mildred!

  Better out than in, they say, and this morning I really did feel better. Put my dressing gown on and went and had breakfast on the terrace. Pet stopped to have a chat, told me I looked like Noel Coward, and we had a laugh together. Then I went back to my room and me and Mildred were just reviewing what I'd said and done at the party when there was a tap at the door. It were Pet, not smiling anymore. She said, "You have a visitor, Mr. Dalziel," all formal, but afore I could ask her what was amiss, she was bundled aside by buffalo woman who said, "Thank you, Nurse Sheldon, I won't keep you from your duties anymore." Then she came into the room and shut the door in Pet's face!

  I thought, Watch out, lad. Likely it's your lily-white body she's after, and you in your dressing gown! I made sure Mildred were switched on just in case it ever came to court!

  Needn't have worried, it were my brains, not my body, she wanted! Or mebbe that should worry me more. I've listened to the recording half a dozen times, don't know whether to take it seriously or not. I mean, a lot of rich old biddies think someone's trying to kill them, don't they?

  Any road, I think I reassured her. I were certainly glad to get shut of her. After she'd gone I didn't feel quite as bright as I'd done before so I stripped off and got into the shower. Ten minutes lightly boiled then thirty seconds quick freeze usually gets me fighting fit! The light boiling were working its magic and I were enjoying a bit of a singsong, seeing how many verses of "The Indian Maid" I could remember when the shower door opened behind me and I felt a pair of arms go round my waist and what felt like a pair of soft pumpkins press into my back.

  I thought, "Right first time, Dalziel! It really is your lily-white she's after. Prepare to repel boarders!"

  I spun round and put my hands up to the pumpkins to push her away. Plenty to push against, I tell you!

  Then the steam cleared a bit, and I realized the pumpkins I had my hands on weren't Lady D's but Pet Sheldon's!

  I said, "What's going off, luv?"

  She said, "You said you were having trouble scrubbing your back, remember?"

  I said, "Then I'd best turn round, hadn't I?"

  And she said, "Oh no, I think I can reach from here."

  And somehow as we talked my push had turned into squeeze and she didn't need to reach all that far 'cos I found I were stretching to meet her.

  Well, like I've heard a lot of the witnesses say, after that I don't remember much, it all happened so quickly. Seemed no time at all afore I found myself lying on my bed with Pet draped all over me, telling me how great it had been. Already I knew I weren't going to feel good about it, but hearing her piling on the praise eased the pain a lot, till I realized that, mixed up with stroking my ego, not to mention my undercarriage, she were slipping in a lot of questions about what Daph Denham had wanted with me. Even then I were so laid back in every sense, I got as far as having a laugh and saying the silly old biddy thought some bugger were trying to kill her afore it dawned on me that this bit of Q and A were likely the main aim of the exercise.

  The thrust of her questions told me her main concern was old Fester. Didn't know how I felt about that, getting a shag from one woman so's she can pump me about another on behalf of the fellow she really fancies! In the end it made my head ache, but, being a man, a little thing like a headache didn't stop Pet's busy fingers from having a reviving effect.

  Knew I had to make a decision. At the moment I reckoned that if ever I had to explain myself to Cap (which heaven forfend!), I could just about justify what happened in the shower by pleading surprise attack and long abstinence. This time I'd be going into it with my eyes wide open. So, tho the prospect of seconds weren't unattractive, I surprised myself and Pet by rolling off the bed and saying, "Thanks for that, luv, but I can't lie around all day enjoying myself. Things to do."

  She didn't speak, just got dressed and let herself out, but I could see she were thinking maybe this hadn't been all that good an idea! That made two of us!

  I felt like a drink and a bit of quiet to drink it in, so I got dressed, strolled down to the gatehouse, and got Stan to call me a taxi. Told him to take me to the Hope and Anchor, but when we got down there it were all shut up. The taxi driver laughed when he saw my face and said, "Where you from, mate? You don't look French. But you'll not find many pubs here open before ten in the morning."

  I said, "It'll open for me!"

  Didn't want to make a scene banging on the front door, so went round the back, where I found the supply hatch open and I could hear someone down in the cellar.

  I hollered out, "Hello, the house. That you down there, Alan ?"

  A moment later his face appeared below me and once again he proved he were my kind of landlord. Just like the first time I showed up, he expressed no surprise but shouted up, "Come on down, Mr. Dalziel. If you don't fancy the ramp, you'll find the back door's open."

  Time was I'd have just rolled straight down, but tempus fuckit, and I went in through the kitchen and down a flight of stairs so narrow and worn, the ramp might have been a better bet. And what I found there made me wish I'd not bothered!

  That cellar were like something out of an old Hammer horror flick. Gloomy, cobwebby, full of black beetles and musty smells, and lit by a single bare bulb, it were the best advert for aluminium kegs and plastic pipes I've ever seen.

  I said, "Jesus, lad, they don't build 'em like this anymore!"

  He said, "Aye, there's been a pub here since good King Charles's golden days, and I don't reckon much has changed since then. I'm trying to persuade Lady D we need a bit of modernization."

  I looked at the racks the beer kegs were lined up on. Hearts of oak mebbe in the seventeenth century, they looked like hearts of wood rot now, and the whole cockley edifice were propped up against the uneven unplastered wall with what looked like a pair of clothes poles.

  I said, "Bugger persuasion! Get Health and Safety in, they'll soon get her sorted. Looks to me like this lot could come tumbling down anytime."

  "Likely you're right," he said. "But her Ladyship don't take kindly to officials or any other bugger telling her what to do. Never fear, I'll get there eventually. Now let's head off upstairs and I'll get you that pint."

  Hadn't mentioned a pint, but like I say, he's a pearl among landlords.

  I supped my ale and he had a half to keep me company. I really weren't worried about what Daph had said to me, so it were more
just to make conversation that I said, "Lady D a nervous type, is she? "

  "You're joking," he said. "Not a nerve in her body. When she were out with the hunt, she were famous for taking hedges and walls a lot of the men balked at."

  "Gave it up, but, didn't she?"

  "Aye, well, I suppose the sight of your husband with his head looking down his spine might seem like a bit of a warning. But it weren't nerves - she just enjoys life too much to want to leave it early."

  "So what's she like to work for then?" I asked.

  "Easy enough, so long as you do things her way," he said. "As you'll likely find out if you stay around long enough. Unless you go over to the other side."

  I thought he meant die, and I said, "I don't look that bad, do I?"

  He grinned and said, "No, sorry! What I mean is, one way or another most folk in Sandytown are either working for Lady Denham or they're working for Tom Parker."

  I said, "But they're on the same side, aren't they?"

  He said, "I think you'll find Tom's working for the town, but Daphne's only working for herself. Best not to get involved if you can avoid it. Get well soon, and leave! Now I'd best get back down to the spiders. If you fancy another one, draw it yourself, okay? "

  A pearl among landlords, did I say? A prince, I meant!

  Any road, Mildred, that's been the story of my day so far, that's how I've ended up here at ten of the clock in the morning, talking to thee, with a pint in my belly, a shag on my conscience, and a tale of attempted murder on my mind.

  What's the rest of the day got in store?

  Nowt! Get well and leave, said Alan Hollis. That's beginning to sound like good advice. Don't get involved, Dalziel. Forget everything that happened this morning, Daph and Pet both. Pet's not going to blab. She may be willing to open her legs for Fester's sake, but she's not going to tell him that! As for Daph, likely she's just another dippy old woman. Best steer well clear. She ended by inviting me to this barbecue she's having tomorrow. Everyone's coming, she said. Well, not me! No, I've learned my lesson. Keep to yourself, eat your greens, do your physio, keep your flies buttoned tight, lock your door at night, and in another week you'll be fit enough to go home.