371 The barman picked it up, listened, then called, 'Is there a police man in the house?' Through the laughter he added, 'It's the station. Would like to speak to someone in CID. Mr Dalziel or Mr Pascoe preferred.' Pascoe said, 'I'll get it.' He took the phone, listened for a while, then said, 'On our way.' . : He put the receiver down. Dalziel was watching him. He jerked ' his head to the door. Out of the press around the bar, the Fat Man said, 'This had. .; better be good. I've got a pint and a gill back there surrounded ^ by bastards with the scruples of a starving gannet.' J 'Oh, it's good,' said Pascoe. 'It was Seymour.' ,, DC Seymour had drawn the short straw and been left to look<;' after the CID shop. , 'He's just had a call from the security guard at the Centre,' he;.' went on. , ' 'Oh fuck. Not another body.' 'No,' said Pascoe, pausing long enough for Dalziel to look ' relieved before going on. 'Another two bodies. Ambrose Bird and Percy Follows. Dead in the Roman Experience bathhouse.' 'Oh shit,' said Andy Dalziel. 'Shit and double shit. How dead? Drowndead?' ' 'No. Electrocuted-dead' said Peter Pascoe. Chapter Forty-two
THE SEVENTH DIALOGUE
Do you recall hww at the beginning I said my heart fainted at the distance I saw stretching between my setting out and my destination?
Yes, that's exactly hois I felt. Oh me of little faith, wherefore did I doubt? How far have I come and how quickly, a quarter of my way now in the blink of an eye, striding out with braggart step, measuring my path not in miles, but in leagues! No plan is needed when you are part of a plan, and when 1 beheld him who was equally a part of the plan, though his time seemed some way still removed, descending like one who hurries to a longed-for assignation, without thought 1 followed - happy word! In the darkness I lost him for a labile, then suddenly the torches flickered to life, the sounds swelled, the odours drifted across my flaring nostrils, and 1 found myself deep in the past of the Roman market. Two figures moved towards each other between the stalls, one clad in a courtier's purple and gold tunic with jewelled clasps, clutching in his hand a leather bag from which he took coins as if to make a purchase, the other in the plain dignified toga which denotes a senator. 'Ho, Diomed, well met! Do you sup with Glaucus tonight?' cried the first. 'I know not,' said the senator. 'What a fearful night is this! There's two or three of us have seen strange sights.' 'And shall see stranger still. Will you walk with me into the bathhouse where we may hear ourselves talk above this fearful babble?' 'Gladly, for the stink of this place rubs my nostrils raw!' Side by side they moved into the calidarium. Through the viewing port I watched them, still not knowing what I
313 was called to do or indeed, with the middle step still not clear, not certain I was called to do anything. Then as the tunic was unclasped and the toga slid to the ground, I felt time, already by artifice here displaced, begin to slow like cooling lava running down Vesuvius's side which in its last embrace grips fragile flesh and makes it live forever. They step into the water, the courtier first, his long gold hair catching the light from the images of naked bathers projected on the wall, his trembling limbs slender and white; the senator behind, his black ponytail jutting out jauntily, the muscles of his sturdier browner body taut with desire. There is no pause for foreplay. The strong brown arms go round the slim white body as, like a full-acomed hoar, a German one, the senator cries W and mounts the courtier. '. Unnoticed, because lava itself bursting through the walls would in this condition go unnoticed, I open the door and step inside. Like a surgeon who need not look for his instrument because he knows it will always be there to hand, or in this case to foot, I feel no surprise as my toe catches on a cable and sends an electric soldering iron snaking across the floor to plop into the pool like a questing vole. Nor does thought'; play a part in sending my hand along the cable to its source where my j fingers find and press a switch, 'i They twist and tauten in one last orgasmic spasm and then go still. >From the courtiers discarded tunic I take the dagger and make the ' necessary mark on his white flesh, while from his bag I take the necessary coin and place it in the senator's open mouth. ; Now it is done. 1 step back into Roman time and without haste mount . the stairway to my own. I feel a deep peace. I know now that I can proclaim myself from the j mountaintops, yet none will hear and understand and lay traps to prevent me. Never has the way ahead seemed so clear.
A path In View, I neVer stray to Left or right. A weDDIng was, or so It seems, but wasn't white. A Date I haVe, the first In fun, though not by night. Chapter Forty-three
'They were still - how shall I put it? - coupled when we got there,' said Peter Pascoe. 'Fused together,' growled Dalziel. 'Don't be mealy-mouthed.' 'Coupled,' repeated Pascoe. 'The maintenance man claims that he disconnected the soldering iron from the extension lead and disconnected the extension lead from the socket on the floor above, which was where he'd had to plug it in because of course all the electrics in the basement had cut out when the fault down there developed. He admits, because he can hardly deny it, that after going upstairs to check the repaired circuits at the main power box, he omitted to return to collect the iron. He says he left it in situ because he intended doing another check on the basement circuitry first thing this morning to make sure all was well for the official opening. A conscientious worker.' 'A lying bastard,' said Dalziel. 'He switched the iron off at the switch on the extension plug, went upstairs, checked the power box, then one of his mates yelled, "Coming for a pint, Joe?" and he forgot all about it.' Pascoe gave him a tightly weary smile and wondered why, as they'd both had the same sleep-curtailed night, the Fat Man looked so alert and vigorous while he felt ready to keel over? But keeling over wasn't an option when he was giving a briefing to his CID team, plus the Chief Constable who'd decided that in view of the seriousness of the situation, he himself would monitor the next conference, plus the Doctors Pottle and Urquhart, whose presence had also been Trimble's idea as soon as he heard that the Seventh Dialogue had been found next morning in one of the Centre mailboxes - not the library box which the police were monitoring, but the unmonitored Heritage box on the far side of the building.
375 Dalziel had objected, making the point that details of advanced investigative procedures and likely suspects ought not to be made available to civilians, to which Trimble had replied somewhat acidly that if he did not trust his co-opted experts then perhaps he shouldn't have recruited them in the first place, and if they were to be of any use to the team, then they must be as fully briefed as everyone else. The Fat Man had got a bit of his own back when the Chief had commented on the presence of DC Novello. 'CID rule, sir. If you're fit enough to drink, you're fit enough to work,' he'd said. He'd answered Pascoe's own reser vation's on the DC's presence rather more humanely by saying,] 'I gave her a ring, asked if she felt up to sitting in for an hour. Break her in gently's best after what she's been through. Also, could be useful getting a female slant on things. Can't be any?, dafter than the crap we're likely to get from Oor Wullie and Smokeyjoe.' 'Maybe they won't have much to say,' Pascoe tried to reassure . him. ; i 'They never do. Doesn't stop the buggers from prattling on, but. Just try not to encourage them, eh?' But it was Trimble who gave the first cue. In response to Dalziel's interjection, he asked, 'Does it really; matter at this juncture if the maintenance man is trying to cover': his back or not?' 'Not really,' said Pascoe. 'Except,' said Dr Pottle, 'insofar as what he says throws doubt on to the Wordman's version in the Dialogue.' He paused, weighed Dalziel's menacing glower against the ' Chief Constable's encouraging nod, decided that in this case rank ; counted, and went on, 'The Wordman's version as always stresses | his sense of being the instrument of some superior power, a very;; active instrument of course, but nonetheless one whose certainty | of invulnerability is based on the provision by his guiding power ', of that conventional trinity of crime investigation: motive, means 1 and opportunity.' | 'What motive?' demanded Dalziel. 'There ain't none, that's the ; point when you're dealing with madmen!' .' 'You're wrong, Superintendent, though I won't irritate you with psychological analysis at this juncture. But motive in the sense that these kil
lings are clearly sequential not even you will deny.' 'Meaning he only kills people who fit some crazy pattern he's working to? Well, thanks for that insight, Doctor. It 'ud be a lot more useful if you could work out the pattern for us, but I dare say that's not on offer yet?' 'I regret the basis of the sequence still escapes me, but I'm working on it,' said Pottle, lighting his fifth cigarette since arrival. 'What is clear is that the Wordman looks to his guiding power to point out his next victim or victims, then to bring them into the killing situation, and finally to provide the means.' 'Took his own knife along to sort out Jax Ripley,' said Wield. 'True, but he still makes it clear that the weapon was somehow provided for him in some manner he could fit into his grand plan. And similarly with the drug used to poison Sam Johnson.' 'So what are you saying, Doctor?' enquired Trimble. 'Only that, if the maintenance man's version is true, it means that the Wordman is rearranging the facts of the incident to fit in with his fantasy, or even to persuade us of its reality. Which would be very interesting.' 'Interesting!' groaned Dalziel. 'Like it's interesting if you're waiting for a bus and a giraffe walks down the street, only it doesn't get you anywhere!' Pascoe hid a smile and went on, 'Whatever the truth of that, the two men were certainly electrocuted in the Roman Experience ...' 'Sounded more like a Greek experience, from what I heard,' grunted Urquhart who looked even more wrecked than Pascoe felt and had been struggling to find a dormitory position on an upright plastic chair. 'As always, I bow to expertise,' said Pascoe. 'Anyway, they were in the Centre basement area . ..' 'Sir,' interrupted Hat Bowler, 'had they arranged to meet there to, you know, do it? Like a date, I mean. Or had it just happened? Or was it a sexual assault?' 'I think, in view of the dressing-up element, and unless we discount the Dialogue completely, it was all planned and voluntary,' said Pascoe. 'The duty security man says that Bird had warned him that he would be testing the basement effects early that evening for about an hour to make sure that all was well. The security videos were as useless as ever. A fire door wedged
377 open at the head of the main stair down to the Experience effect ively cut out the corridor along which Follows must have approached from the library and therefore cut out the pursuing Wordman too. There is no video camera in place yet in the Experience area. I presume Bird and Follows knew this otherwise they'd hardly have rendezvoused there. You look doubtful, Hat.' 'It's just that, well, those two didn't seem the type ...' Pascoe raised an eyebrow, Wield scratched his nose, and Hat stumbled on, '... sorry, I didn't mean not the type to be gay,[ because I don't know what that would be, but they didn't seem to like each other, in fact the few dmes I saw them, they seemed to be getting right up each other's noses.' 'Not their noses you should have been watching,' muttered „ Dalziel. Pottle said, 'This apparent antagonism was almost certainly? their way of concealing the relationship, though it may well be ]i that a real antagonism actually played a significant role in it too.; There are certain kinds of lovers' quarrels which add a positive1' spice to heterosexual relationships. The vigorous verbal battles'' we so often find being joined between men and woman in Shake-speare are nearly always a prelude to their eventual coupling.' ' 'I should add,' said Pascoe, 'that the security man does recollect other occasions when Bird used the theatre for what he called lighting rehearsals, just him and allegedly the lighting director, though the security man once glimpsed what he called this lanky blonde in an off the shoulder dress before a door was shut in his face. I suspect they had been taking advantage of Bird's access to props and costumes to play out their fantasies for some time and; the completion of the Roman Experience had seemed like an opportunity not to be refused.' Trimble said hopefully, 'This killing couldn't be just a bit of good old-fashioned gay-bashing, could it? That would make things such a lot simpler.' ' Pascoe opened his mouth to make a sharp response to this crass comment, but Wield came quickly in with, 'Sorry, sir, but there'snothing in the Dialogue to suggest the Wordman disapproves., He may be mad but that doesn't mean he's got to be bigoted.' Then he glanced at Pascoe and dropped an eyelid as if to say, I'm a big boy now, I can look after myself. Pottle added, 'I agree with the sergeant. Indeed so far I have found little to suggest that the Wordman disapproves in moral terms of any of his victims. Certainly there are no traces of homophobia.'
'Yes, of course. Sorry,' said Trimble. 'Mr Pascoe, please go on.' 'Yes, as I was saying, the pathologist has confirmed that death was by electrocution. After death the bodies were interfered with in a curious way...' 'After'.' grunted Dalziel. '. .. with Follows having a mark scratched on his forehead. Scratches on skin are difficult but the best guess is it was intended to look like this.' Pascoe went to the drywipe board and drew: $ 'It's a dollar sign,' said Trimble. 'Possibly,' said Pascoe. 'And certainly if that's what it is meant to be, there is a link of a kind with what was found in Ambrose Bird's mouth.' He produced a plastic evidence bag in which a small metal disc was visible. 'It is a Roman coin, copper or bronze. We showed it to Ms Carcanet, the Heritage Director. As you may know, she's been unwell and the news of what had happened in the Roman Experience didn't do her state of mind any good. But she managed to tell us that the head stamped on the coin is probably that of the Emperor Diocletian, though it's very worn, far too badly for the inscription to be legible.' 'But it is genuine?' asked Trimble. 'Oh yes. Most of the coins in the tourist bags like the one Follows was carrying are replicas, but for authenticity they decided to include a few examples of the real thing, well-used Roman coins too worn to have any value to a collector. Did the Wordman select it deliberately because he wanted the real thing, I wonder. And perhaps too we should recall that the classical Greeks used to place an obolus or small coin in the mouth of the dead so that they could pay Charon to ferry them over the Styx.' 'Karen?' said Dalziel. 'Over the sticks? Grand National's not been the same since they invented women jockeys.' Pascoe, who'd heard it all before, ignored this provocative philistinism and concluded, 'Anyway there we have it, a dollar sign
379 and a Roman coin. I suppose it could be some kind of statement about money being the root of all evil?' He looked hopefully towards the two doctors. Pottle shook his head. 'I doubt it. As I say, I find little evidence of any warped moral schema here. He's not killing people because they are prostitutes, or black, or Arsenal supporters. No, I'd guess that the coin and the sign are riddle elements rather than psychological indices. Perhaps our semiotic expert can help.' He blew a wraith of smoke towards Drew Urquhart who had apparently overcome all the gymnastic problems inherent in going to sleep on a hard office chair. The linguist opened his eyes, yawned, and scratched his stubbly face. 'Thought about it,' he said. 'Not a nicking clue what they mean.' Dalziel rolled his eyes like ten-pin bowls but before he could knock the Scot over, he continued, 'But there is a couple of wee things that did strike me. I'll go through the Dialogue bit by bit ifthat'sOK.MrTrimble?' He looked deferentially towards the Chief Constable. The sly sod's sending Andy up! thought Pascoe. With an embarrassed glance at his Head of CID, Trimble nodded. 'First para takes the form of a question, establishing a dialogue between him and us. Second starts biblically, "me of little faith", version of Matthew 14.31. Then note "a quarter of the way". Eight deaths so far, implying another twenty-four to go, though not necessarily, as I shall explain later.' 'Can't wait,' said Dalziel. 'Cross your legs and think of Jesus, my old gran used to say,' said Urquhart. 'Something else here, same para, you must have noticed it with your guid Scots ancestry, Mr Dalziel. "Braggart step." Now how does it go?' He started humming a tune, then interpolated the odd word as though having difficulty remembering, the whiles looking imploringly at Dalziel who suddenly amazed them all by breaking forth in a not unpleasing baritone and singing, 'If you're thinking in your inner hairt the braggart's in my step, ye've never smelt the tangle o' the Isles!' 'Bravo,' said Urquhart. 'Guid to see you've not gone completely native.' 'So the Wordman knows the song. So what?' 'By heather paths wi' heaven in their 'wiles,'1 murmured Urquhart. 'It all builds a picture. Next para: "Happy word." Presumably followed because of course
he is following Follows. Well, we knew he was a word freak, but more interestingly, note the bit which says that Follows is equally part of the plan, "though his time seemed some way removed". Question, how so? Presumably it means that Follows wasn't the next in sequence. The next but one, maybe? Then why say some way removed? Also notice half a dozen paras on, "the middle step srill not clear". As if to say that even with the real next target, which must be Bird, available, there's still an intermediary step between Bird and Follows.' 'Like last time,' said Pascoe, who'd been listening with intense interest. 'He talked about three steps, didn't he? Even though there was only the one body.' Urquhart nodded approvingly as though at a favoured pupil and went on, 'Makes me wonder if the coin and the dollar sign might not have something to do with this middle step. But fuck knows what. Let's move on. Next para, nothing. Then they start talking. This felt literary to me. I checked it out with my wee hairie. "What a fearful night is this! There's two or three of us have seen strange sights," is Julius Caesar, Act One Scene Three. But Diomed and Glaucus don't seem to be in Shakespeare.' 'Bulwer Lytton, Last Days of Pompeii, Chapter One,' said Dalziel. 'Thought everyone knew that.' It was a show-stopper for everyone but Pascoe, who knew that this volume was a pretty well permanent feature of Dalziel's bedside table. His knowledge did not come from any personal acquaintance with the Fat Man's sleeping arrangements but because on one of the rare occasions Ellie had been in his house, she had 'inadvertently' wandered into the bedroom when looking for the bathroom, an 'error' she repeated on the next two rare occasions. The book remained in place, but the bookmark she noticed in it had changed places, suggesting either a very slow or a cyclic reading. She'd also noted that the volume was stamped Property of the Longboat Hotel, Scarborough and the bookmark was a folded copy of a bill
Dialogues of the Dead Page 37
