The Price of Butcher's Meat (43 page)

I’m ahead of you there, Superintendent. Knowing the police would
want a statement eventually, and wanting to capture my memories
before they began to fade, I wrote this out not long after my return
yesterday.

Oh aye. Neatly typed, and not a lot of long words either, by the look
of it. Just the job for a country cop. Matter of interest, did you write it
before or after Pet called in to see you?

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Sorry?

Ms. Sheldon, your chief nurse. She came over from the home after
she got back from the hall. I just wondered if you wrote this before or
after you had a chat.

Now listen here, Mr. Dalziel, I don’t know what you’re implying . . .

Implying? You’ve both been to a party where your hostess got lightly
grilled over a barbecue—Jesus, even folk in your line of work can’t be
so used to cadavers you wouldn’t talk about that!

Yes, of course we talked about it. I think I’d started writing my statement when she turned up, and I finished it later, quite unaltered by
anything we may have discussed.

That’s fine then. You didn’t give her a lift to the hog roast? Or her
you?

You know I didn’t. Why do you ask?

Seems odd, that’s all. Both invited, coming from the same place, I’d
have thought you’d likely have tossed for who was going to drive, who
was going to get rat arsed.

Perhaps neither of us looks on such occasions as an opportunity to get
rat arsed, as you so elegantly put it.

No? May be wrong, but Pet strikes me as a lass as can sup her yard of
ale, and from what you just told me about you and poor old Daph,
you’re not averse to tying one on. Mebbe you just didn’t want to be
seen arriving with her in case that rattled Daph’s cage. Got to be careful with a possessive personality like Daph’s. But you’d know all
about that, you’ve got the certifi cates.

Interesting speculation, but I’m sorry to say it was just a matter of
con venience. In our line of work, we are both always on call and either of us could have been summoned away early.

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Fair enough. See much of her at the party?

In fact, yes. We have a lot in common—work and such, you understand. I circulated, the way you do at a party, but once the storm appeared on the horizon and everybody headed into the house, I was
happy to find myself with Nurse Sheldon, sheltering in the conservatory. In fact, we were together until we went outside again when the
storm passed and they discovered the body.

Great. That’s that sorted then. Wish it were always as easy as this.

What about dear old Daph, see much of her as you circulated?

A little. We talked, but only in passing. She was very much the gracious hostess, seeing to the needs of all her guests.

Didn’t see to her own needs, or yours mebbe, a bit more privately,
Lest? You know, invite you up to her room? Or mebbe you were a bit
bolder, nowt like a good shag out of doors, long as the mercury’s high
and the midges aren’t biting.

For God’s sake, I’ve told you already. We did not have sex at the hog
roast, indoors or outdoors. What do you think I am?

I’m not sure. A man, certainly. What kind of man, that’s the question. Mebbe I should ask someone who knows you a lot better than
me. Nurse Sheldon, for instance.

What the hell does that mean?

It was you who said you’d a lot in common. Makes sense, I’d be surprised if your head nurse didn’t know you inside out. Like I expect, as
her employer, you’ll know her inside out. Aye, I daresay the pair of
you know each other’s ins and outs very well.

Now listen here, Dalziel, I’m getting just a tad tired of all this innu-endo . . .

Innuendo? That a board game? No, now I recall, it means going
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round the houses to suggest summat. Nay, I’m sorry if you don’t think
I’ve been direct with you. Easily remedied, but. So tell me, Lest, are
you and Pet at it?

At it?

Screwing, shagging, jig-a-jigging, making love, having intercourse,
exchanging bodily juices—you choose the phrase, then answer the
question. Are you at it?

I’ve had enough of this! You may be a policeman, Dalziel, and you
may be a patient, but I don’t have to take this kind of prurient crap
from you under either hat . . .

Now ho’d on there! Fair do’s. I ask if you’ve banged old Daph and you
answer me sort of embarrassed but polite. Now I ask the same about Pet
and you’re all in a lather. Why’s that? Me, I could understand anyone
getting annoyed to be asked if they’d banged some woman old enough to
be their mother, but not a grand lass like Pet! It’s not this doctor-nurse
thing, is it, Lester? Didn’t think you Yanks did snobbery. Shame on you!

Enough! Just two last things I want to say to you, Andy, before I get on
with my work. The first is, I don’t need anyone to tell me what a fine
woman Pet Sheldon is, especially not in the vulgar provocative tone
you have chosen to adopt. Second, from my clinical observation during this so-called interview I’d say that physically your convalescence
is progressing very well, but mentally there are many issues still to
deal with. Don’t worry. We don’t give up on people at the Avalon.

We’ll get there in the end.

Is that right? I’m glad to hear it. Got a lot in common, me and you,
Lester. Reckon that will do for now, then. Won’t keep you from your
work any longer. Thanks for your time. Oh, just one other thing,
you’ll let me know if you’re planning to leave the country in the near
future, won’t you? Catch you later, lad. Cheers!

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. . .

Come on! Come on! Answer . . . ah, there you are, Pet. It’s Lester.

Listen, not a lot of time. Dalziel has just been interviewing me . . .

yes, interviewing, or perhaps interrogating would be a better word. I
think he’s on his way to see you now, I thought I should warn you.

Don’t be taken in if he tries the patient-fl irting-with- nurse approach.

He’s very much back in policeman mode. He talks like he knows
about you and me, but he’s only guessing. Admit nothing. And remember, after the storm started, we were together till they found the
body. Whatever else you do, don’t give an inch on that . . . yes, I
know . . . yes, yes, it’s going to be okay . . . we’ll talk after he’s seen
you . . . No, better leave it till our usual pre- rounds consultation . . .

we have to be careful. He may come across as a fat clown, but believe
me, this guy is really dangerous . . . yeah, me too. Take care. ’Bye.

Lester! Sorry to bother you again, but I think I left me file in here. Be
forgetting me head if it weren’t screwed on. Age, eh? Pity you buggers
couldn’t find a cure for that, other than the obvious one, I mean. Ah,
there it is. I’ll leave you in peace now. Cheers, again!

6

Well now, Mildred, that made interesting listening, didn’t it? So what
are they up to? One thing’s clear, they weren’t together all the time after
the storm started. But who’s alibiing who? Or could they both be in it
together?

Going to be a hard habit to get out of, this thinking-aloud business.

Place like this, no one takes much notice of old fogeys sitting in the sun,
talking to themselves, but if I try it when I get back on the job, I’ll be on
gardening leave afore you can say mesembryanthemums.

Clever bugger, old Fester. Had him going for a bit, but he came back
strong. Liked the way he stuck up for Pet—mebbe he’s not just in there
for his jollies. And that crack about me having mental issues, that were
a clever bit of counterpunching. Like a sharp intake of breath from a car
mechanic, not what you want to hear from a shrink!

And mebbe he’s right. Mebbe I have gone a bit doolally. I mean,
what the fuck am I playing at, sticking my neb into this case? Nowt I
can do that Pete isn’t capable of doing himself. He wanted to keep me
out of it, but no, here I come, swinging through the trees, beating my
chest and yodeling!

But I’ve made my bed—Jesus Christ, how I’d love to be lying on
it!—by myself. Lead us not into temptation. At least what happened
with Pet’s reassured me my bit of bother with Cap ain’t permanent. It’s
a worry, but. Suddenly I could see all them Viagra jokes coming back
to haunt me! It’ll never happen to me, you think, when you’re still getting a hard- on just walking through the lingerie department in Marks
and Sparks. But, like the tax man, it’ll get you in the end. Right in the
end! Women are lucky. Don’t matter how old they are, if they’ve still
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got the itch, all they’ve got to do is fi nd a hard pecker to scratch it with.

Like old Daph. Though it don’t sound like it were Fester that were doing the scratching.

And now she’s dead. That’s all that matters, Dalziel. Get your mind
back on the job. She might have been a right old bruiser, but she didn’t
deserve what happened to her. So let’s take a real close look at Fester
and Pet, and ask what motive could either one of them have strong
enough to make them decide Daph had to go?

Pet’s way ahead here. Combination of jealousy and doing your loved
one a good turn has often done the trick, specially in a strong-willed
passionate woman. No problem physically—she’d know all the right
places to squeeze, and she’ll have had lots of practice lugging bodies
around.

Fester’s different. Unless it turns out Daph’s remembered him in her
will, I can’t see any reason why his fancy should have lightly turned to
thoughts of murder. In the end he could just have walked away from
Daph, shipping out back to the U.S. if necessary. Maybe he’d even
hinted this to Pet. Maybe she’d begun to worry that getting his jollies
from her didn’t include any

long-term plans for their relationship.

Wouldn’t surprise me if she were right. Being keen to hear a luscious
handful like Pet say
yes please!
is a long way off wanting to hear her say
I do!
In fact, if my reading of Fester’s right, I’d say he were the type who
were more likely to use his position and standing to get himself one of
them trophy wives, some nice young juicy bit of tottie as ’ud hang on his
arm in public and flash her tits and make all the other men drool with
jealousy!

Easy to imagine Pet thinking, Walk away from Lady D if you want,
but you’re not going to walk away from me! And a wise woman might
find herself looking for something that ties a tighter knot than slippery
love.

Like shared guilt.

So Pet does the deed, then makes sure Fester gets involved in the
cover- up. Easy enough in the heat of the moment, and she knows
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once Fester has taken a step down that road, there’s no going back. Pet
gets a bit mucked up dragging poor Daph around, so when she sees
Roote’s fallen out of his chair later, she moves right in and picks the
muddy bugger up, and now she’s got a reason for being all wet and
clarty herself.

What about Ollie Hollis, but?

Could be he saw summat, enough to worry him, but not enough to
make him head for the police. Rings up Pet or Fester, tells them he
wants to talk, says he’s going round to Madame Lee’s. One of them takes
off down there, the other stays up here, sets up the mutual alibi again.

If I hadn’t hijacked Pete when he came to take their statements, we’d
have known which one was doing which!

Shit. Don’t expect he’ll be backward about pointing that out to me.

But I’m getting ahead of meself.

Looks like Godly Gordon’s out of the frame. Never did fancy him
myself. I know there’s no art to read and all that, but I just can’t see a
guy who looks like that being a killer! Bet the bugger has a hard time
stomping on a beetle!

So who does clever old Pete see as the front-runner now?

Not Fester and Pet, I’d guess, else he’d not have agreed to turn me
loose on them.

Seems to have serious doubts about the Heywood lass, but I reckon
he’s up the creek there. Spent too many of his formative years with
prancing ponces in education who reckoned bad spelling was a capital
crime! No, I’d put money on Stompy’s lass being okay. My only worry
about her after reading her e-mails is that round Sandytown just now it
might not be too healthy to be so nebby and bright!

Make a note, Dalziel. Have a friendly word.

Back to Pete’s hit list. At the moment I’d guess Hen Hollis and Ted
Denham are neck and neck. Then there’s all them Parkers. Or mebbe
it’s the obvious for once and it were down to that animal rights woman
Seymour spotted. Not likely, in my book, but mebbe I’m prejudiced ’cos
of Cap.