The Price of Butcher's Meat

by Reginald Hill

  I chucked in the last bit about Hat and Ivor ’cos I thought the notion of using me like a DC might appeal, but, give him his due, he didn’t hesitate for a second.

  He said, “That would be very helpful, Andy. Thank you. But by the book, eh?”

  “You mean I can’t use the rubber truncheon? Oh shit,” I said. “What about my little friend?”

  I pulled out Mildred.

  “Oh yes,” he said. “Might be useful. At your discretion.”

  Wield gave a sort of snarly grunt that meant, What the fuck’s this about?

  Pete said, “Forgot to mention in last night’s excitements, Wieldy. Andy’s gone hi-tech. He’s got Lady D recorded in conversation with him. Be good if you two can get together some time and transcribe it. But not now. You’ve both got better things to do.”

  Wieldy and me can both take a hint. He left and I said, “Right. I’ll be off. And thank you too.”

  “What for?”

  “Not mentioning Cap and ANIMA,” I said.

  “No need to,” he said. “Like me and Franny Roote, I know you won’t let a personal relationship stand in the way of your duty.”

  By the cringe! I thought, the bugger’s really determined to put me in my place.

  Then he grinned like a schoolboy and produced this green plastic file.

  “Here you are,” he said. “I’ll be interested to hear what you make of them.”

  “What?”

  “Miss Heywood’s e-mails. You didn’t really think I’d not let you see them? I made a copy for you.”

  “But you didn’t know I were coming down here,” I protested.

  “Of course I didn’t, Andy,” he said, still grinning. “Like I don’t know the swallows are coming in the spring.”

  Oh, you clever bugger! I thought as I left. What’ll you be like when time’s set a grizzle on your case?

  Sooner I get back on the job the better, else I might be finding the place filled!

  3

  FROM: charley@whiffle.com

  TO: cassie@natterjack.com

  SUBJECT: things get worse!

  Hi!

  Im really frustrated. Lots happening—some fascinating stuff—its like being in a Miss Marple movie—but the screen goes fuzzy when youre not actually in shot!

  Breakfast was a bit of a scratch affair.

  Tom gobbled his then shot off to see what he could find out—& more important to reassure his troops that the violent events of the previous day were just a glitch in the triumphal progress of Sandytown! Mary made polite conversation—trying not to sully the ears of the children. Neednt have bothered. The younger kids had decided whatever was going on was adult stuff—disregardable so long as it didnt get in the way of their own plans—& they shot off outside as soon as theyd stuffed their faces.

  Minnie of course was having none of that—& it took a couple of—for Mary—sharp rebukes to keep her from cross examining Clara.

  Then we heard the sound of a car coming up the drive & Min looked out of the window & screamed—its Novello—come to take me for my interview!—

  Mary ordered her to sit still & went to the door—& we all waited—with bated breath—to see how she would handle things. If Tom had been home—Im sure thered have been a confrontation—but Mary kept her voice low & a few moments later she reappeared with Novello—looking a bit chastened—by her side.

  Min jumped up—face bright with expectation—but it was me the DC was looking at.

  Good morning Miss Heywood—she said—very formal—that should have warned me—Mr Pascoe our DCI would like to talk with you—

  —here?—I said stupidly—like he might be traveling in the boot of her tiny car.

  —no—down at the hall—as soon as you can—if thats OK—

  I shrugged & said—why not?

  Min—who was standing there like an actress whos got to her feet in anticipation of winning an Oscar only to hear someone elses name—burst out—but you promised wed go swimming!—

  —later—I said—I dont expect Ill be long—will I?—

  I looked at Novello who shrugged.

  We went out to her car. Behind us—from the doorstep—Mary said—you will remember what I said Constable Novello?—If at any time in the future you should wish to talk to any of my children—I would appreciate it if you contacted myself or their father first—

  No special voice here—just her normal gentle conversational tone—but I saw Novello wince like shed been whipped. She turned & began to speak—but Mary was already closing the door.

  On the way down the hill—I said—whats this all about Shirley? Is it true youve arrested Mr Godley?—

  —sorry—I cant discuss the case—she said—still formal. I put it down to being told off by Mary—& we did the rest of the short trip in silence.

  I expected to find the police had taken over the hall. Instead I was taken to a flat above the stables block. Looked in on Ginger. Seemed like someone had remembered to feed & water him—so not all townie morons!

  The flat was a decent size but run down. First room I entered looked like it had been a living room—now it had computers & telephones & display boards on all the walls. There I met 2 men. One was thickset with the kind of face people will eventually be paying me good money not to dream of! By contrast anyone would have looked good—but the other really was quite dishy—slim—mid 30s—a shock of pale brown hair either attractively disheveled—or carefully arranged—narrow intelligent face—bright blue eyes that ran me up & down without undressing me—which I found rather disturbing—or disappointing?—& a nice smile as he said—Miss Heywood? Im DCI Pascoe—& this is Detective Sergeant Wield—so good of you to come—

  So this was the supersleuth—I thought. Easy to believe now Id seen him—except of course I was still certain hed got it dead wrong with regard to poor Mr Godley.

  He took me into another room—bedroom I suppose—peeling wallpaper—smell of damp—just enough room for a small kitchen table—several hard chairs—a clutter of recording equipment on a recessed shelf.

  The ugly sergeant was with us—but not Novello.

  We sat down—me opposite Pascoe—the sergeant to one side.

  For a few moments no one spoke—old psychologists trick—trying to let silence push me into speech—so—childishly—I resolved not to say anything before he did.

  Finally he opened a folder hed brought with him & spilled onto the table several sheets of closely printed paper. Even upside down I recognized them. The printouts of my emails that Id given to Novello. Suddenly I had a bad feeling & forgot my resolve.

  I said—where did you get those?—

  He said—from DC Novello of course—where else?—

  I thought—that dykey cow! (sorry—but even psychologists relapse into non–PC thinking at moments of stress!) No wonder she was a bit off with me this morning. Guilt!

  I said—well hold on there. I want to make it clear—I let DC Novello look at them on the strict understanding that shed only extract from them anything she thought might be useful & not pass it on without keeping me informed—

  —indeed—he said—so we may assume she found it all useful—& as for keeping you informed—thats whats happening now—isnt it?—

  This with the smile again—but I was on to him now. He wasnt trying to charm me into accepting Novellos shattering of my foolish trust. No—hed probably listened to her account of me & decided—rightly—I wasnt going to fall for the all mates together line again. So—get in my face—provoke a reaction—get it out of the way—then down to business.

  Not bad psychology—I thought. OK—I wasnt going to forgive bitch Novello in a hurry—but he knew that—& why should he care? In fact her getting all the crap left a clear field for him to be nice cop & get all the benefit of my interesting insights!

  I gave him a faint smile—& could see he was pleased.

  But every quid has a quo—as the HB used to say—& always make sure you see the quo before you let any sod get h
is hand on your quid—

  Not big on double entendre our dad—& Im sure hed have been shocked to have heard you & me giggling every time you came home from a first date & Id ask how big was his quo—& did he get his hand on your quid!

  I said—before we start—is it true youve arrested Mr Godley?—

  —hes been helping us with our inquiries—yes—he said.

  —then you must be mad—I said. If he wanted blunt—he was going to get it!

  —why?—

  —cos theres as much chance of him committing murder as the pope!—I said.

  —which pope would that be?—he said—John Paul the 2nd? Or Alexander the 6th?—

  I didnt get the reference but did get the message—I was dealing with a real clever bugger here—a category that ranks just above daft buggers on the HBs hit list!

  He hadnt finished either. He went on—in any case Miss Heywood—why would you think it impossible that a man you find distinctly odd—mad as a hatter was your description I seem to recall—should commit murder?—

  I said—youre right Mr Pascoe—I did find him odd—still do—but if—as I presume—youre trying to impress me with your total recall of what youve read in my private emails—you will also have noticed I modified my first impression considerably as I came to see his oddness was mainly the oddness of goodness & innocence in a corrupt & guilty world—

  There! Let him see he wasnt the only clever bugger around!

  Of course all I was saying—when you dumped the fancy packaging—was—dont know how I know it but I just know Mr Godley couldnt kill anyone!

  He gave me a get-her! kind of look—then said—goodness & innocence can be motives too—but lets not get bogged down in psychology & metaphysics—lets look at the facts. Godley was found by 2 police officers beside Hollis’s body—with his hand on the instrument that killed him. My officer searched the house immediately after the discovery. There was nobody else there—

  —which indicates—if you know your Agatha Christie—I interrupted—that he certainly did not do it!—

  A stupid thing to say—but he nodded as if really pleased—& said—you read Christie do you? I collect her first editions—Ive got one or two rarities—

  —no—I dont read the books—but Ive seen a lot of the movies—I said.

  —yes—like Jane Austen she films surprisingly well—he said—But you will recall that occasionally—as in The Hollow—the character you dismiss from the frame because theyve been caught apparently in flagrante can turn out to be the perpetrator after all—

  —youre suggesting Mr Godley let himself be caught—to divert suspicion!—I mocked.

  —in a way—yes—he said. His story is—he called at Witch Cottage—Miss Lee was out—he let himself in—sat in the living room to await her return—thought he heard a noise—got up—went across the hall into the consulting room—discovered Ollie Hollis on the treatment table—realized there was something wrong & was just on the point of trying to remove the fatal needle when interrupted by two of my officers—

  —its a good story—I said—but I expect youve got a better one—

  —an alternative certainly—he said—Mr Godley enters the cottage—discovers Hollis on the table—kills him with a needle—then hears my officers car pull up outside. The house has no rear exit. He could of course have let himself be discovered in the living room & claim he knew nothing of the body in the consulting room—but he knows what forensic science can do & he has not had time to reassure himself he has left no traces of his presence on or near the corpse. So he grasps the nettle—& the needle—& lets himself be discovered allegedly trying to pull it out of Hollis’s back—

  —this is Mr Godley youre talking about—not Professor Moriarty—I said—why on earth do you imagine he would want to kill Ollie?—

  —perhaps because of something Mr Hollis saw at the hog roast?—he suggested.

  I was gobsmacked.

  —you mean you think Gordon had something to do with Lady Denhams murder?—I cried—now youre being really crazy!—what the hell could put a stupid idea like that into your head?—

  —well—for a start—you—he said—shuffling the email printouts—first you mention seeing Godley & the victim having an argument—an incident confirmed by several other witnesses. Then—after the discovery of the body—you describe how you found yourself being comforted by Godley—& he was dripping wet—

  —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 unimaginative 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…

  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 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!—