Part 25 (2/2)

Chapter 18.

When Dalziel finally left the Welfare the first thing he saw across the road was Tommy d.i.c.kinson, sitting on the lowest step of the village War Memorial, his head resting on a bronze boot. Beside him sat Wardle.

'Not waiting for me?' asked Dalziel genially.

'You must be joking,' said Wardle. 'Waiting for him. I'm not doing my back lifting him.'

'Very wise.' Dalziel signalled to his car. As it approached his gaze drifted down the list of names on the Memorial.

'I thought mining were a reserved occupation,' he said.

'There were always plenty who thought the Germans gave you a better chance than the bosses,' said Wardle.

'Aye, it helps to know your enemies. Let's get him in, then.'

'What? No, it's all right. Thanks, but I'll manage him.'

'Oh aye? Next copper who comes along will likely arrest him for causing an obstruction. Come on, suns.h.i.+ne.'

He reached down and seized d.i.c.kinson's s.h.i.+rt at the neck, giving him the option of rising or being strangled.

'You coming too?' he said to Wardle after Tommy had opted for life and allowed himself to be bundled into the back seat.

'I best had. He lives with his mam and she might be upset.'

'To see Tommy p.i.s.sed?' said Dalziel incredulously.

'To see the company he got p.i.s.sed in,' said Wardle.'

'You're a puzzle to me, Mr Wardle,' said Dalziel, 'I mean, you try to be like the rest of 'em, knee-jerk reaction to the sodding pigs, that sort of thing. But that's not you really, is it?'

'You'd better not start thinking I love you b.u.g.g.e.rs, mister,' said Wardle.

'No. But you love order, I'd say. I bet you ran around during the Strike kicking people into line, making sure things were done according to the book.'

'You lot could have done with some of that.'

'I dare say. They brought a lot of c.o.c.kneys up from the Stink, but, b.l.o.o.d.y Cossacks, them lot. All they know is pillage and rape. Well, they're back in the compound now and it's sweetness and light time again.'

'You're a f.u.c.king optimist,' said Wardle.

'Not me, friend. But I'd say that you were, Neil, lad. Which makes your att.i.tude . . . disappointing.'

'I'm sorry. I'll try to be nicer. Here we are. Next to the street lamp. Thanks a lot. We'll be OK now.'

'No. No. We'll see him safe inside. h.e.l.lo, la.s.s. Here's your wandering boy come home.'

He helped the semi-conscious miner past the diminutive woman who'd appeared on the front step, and laid him on a sofa in the tiny living-room.

'My advice is leave him here with a bucket by his head. Once he's spewed, kick him up to bed. Lovely place you've got here, la.s.s. And you keep it real nice. I'll just get myself a gla.s.s of water from the kitchen then I'll be on my way.'

He went through to the kitchen. Behind him he heard the woman say, 'Who's that daft b.u.g.g.e.r?' but Wardle was too keen to come after him to reply.

He found Dalziel standing looking out on to the long narrow back garden. A stretch of lawn petered out into a rectangle of vegetables. At the juncture of gra.s.s and earth stood the grey remains of a small bonfire.

'Good for your greens, a bit of ash.' said Dalziel.

'I'd not know, I'm not a gardener,' said Wardle.

'No? People's more your line, eh? Planting them, feeding them, helping them to grow. But you ought to know, Neil, you can't make a carnation out of a carrot.'

'What the h.e.l.l are you on about?'

'I'm on about doing the important things yourself. Or was there a committee meeting more important than covering up for a friend? Or was it mebbe less of a cover- up and more of a finger-pointing?'

'You slab-faced b.a.s.t.a.r.d!'

'Thank Christ for a heartfelt insult from you at last,' said Dalziel. 'Now let's go and scatter the ashes, shall we?'

As Wield's motorbike coasted down into Burrthorpe, Peter Pascoe looked at his watch and groaned.

They'd gone far afield in search of a pub out of sight of a pit-head, and drunk too much of the landlord's excellent beer, then had to spoil the taste with pints of his awful coffee. For a while the return journey, with the rain-spotted wind cold on their beer-flushed cheeks, had been exhilarating. He and Wield had opened their hearts to each other in the pub, or at least as much of their hearts as men in their kind of situation, in that kind of place, in those sort of circ.u.mstances, are able to open; but by the time the winding gear of Burrthorpe Main came into sight, Pascoe was already beginning to regret the immediate past and fear the immediate future.

For a while after they re-entered Burrthorpe police station they felt themselves lucky. Dalziel had not yet returned. That was the good news. But Chief Inspector Wishart wanted to see them urgently.

'Where the h.e.l.l have you two been?' he demanded angrily. Three-hour lunches might be OK in never-never land, I bet you have picnics and hay-rides up there. Down here life is getting to be so f.u.c.king real we don't even have time to be earnest.'

'Sorry, Alex,' said Pascoe. 'Trouble with the bike. Sorry. Any developments?'

'No. The mastermind of Mid-Yorks isn't back from his lunch either, so I don't suppose I can blame you two skivers too much. To tell the truth, we don't seem to be getting anywhere. I've got all the men I can spare taking statements from every b.u.g.g.e.r they can lay hands on. And them as can't do that are combing the ditches between here and the Pendragon Arms in search of Farr's pit- black. No sign so far, no weapon, nothing. It's going to be all down to hard graft this one, and that's what I want from you two. None of your pastoral fancies, just some honest to goodness police work.'

'At your service,' said Pascoe. 'Have you had another go at Farr?'

'Not yet. Thought I'd let him relax a bit. I want him somewhere where there's no b.l.o.o.d.y doctor rus.h.i.+ng in every two minutes to say I'm being too rough. His mother's up at the hospital seeing him. And here's an interesting thing, Mycroft's turned up too.'

'What can he want? I thought they didn't get on?'

'So did I. But I told Vessey to let him in if Farr didn't object, then press his ear to the keyhole.'

'You're letting him have visitors without supervision?' said Pascoe doubtfully.

'That's right,' said Wishart defensively. 'Wakefield insisted Mrs Farr was ent.i.tled to some privacy. As for Mycroft, I know these miners. They'll give nothing away if they don't want to. Much more chance of Vessey picking something up if he keeps his ear pressed to the door.'

'Ot.i.tis, most likely,' murmured Pascoe.

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