Dialogues of the Dead

43 do the job properly if you've got to be looking over your shoulder all the time.' This was a reference to the new climate of accountability. Gone, or at least going, were the good old days when a policeman who made a mistake could slip gratefully into a secure pension 'on medical grounds'. And even those who'd retired in the fullness of rime were no longer secure from retrospective investigation and changed pensionable status. So perhaps it wasn't surprising that someone as cautious as George Headingley entering the final straight of an honourable if not over-distinguished career, should have decided that the best way of not blotting his copybook was to write in it as little as possible. Bowler's suspicion that Wield was saying indirectly that the best place for something as daft as the Dialogues was under the DI's ample buttocks was slightly allayed when he discovered that the case of the AA man's death was there already. When the coroner had adjourned the inquest for the police to make further enquiries, Uniformed had passed it upstairs for CID to take a look at. Headingley had taken a glance, yawned, and was on the point of tossing it back downstairs with the required annotation that CID found no evidence requiring further investigation. 'Now you come along with this,' said the DI accusingly. 'It's a load of nothing. Can't see why you think it's worth bothering with.' 'There has to be some reason why the coroner adjourned,' said Bowler evasively. 'Yeah, well, I suppose so. Silly old buffer's always been terrified of making a mistake so when the family started causing a fuss, he took the easy way out. Anything goes wrong, it'll be our fault.' Takes a one to know a one, thought Bowler as he studied the inquest report. He soon saw there was a bit more to it than Headingley had implied, but not a lot. The question of why Ainstable had stopped in the first place hadn't been satisfactorily answered. Call of nature had been theorized, losing his balance as he relieved himself over the shallow parapet. But his wife had tearfully protested that her Andrew was not the kind of man to pee off a bridge situated on a public highway, the pathologist had pointed out that his bladder was still fairly fall, and PC Dave Insole, first cop on the scene, had confirmed that his flies were fastened. Perhaps then he'd had a dizzy turn before he got started and had fallen? The post mortem hadn't found evidence of any kind of 'dizzy turn', though the pathologist could think of several versions of this syndrome which would have left no sign, and the police report mentioned rather tentatively some scuffs on the parapet of the bridge which might possibly indicate he'd been sitting down and gone over backwards. But the really puzzling thing was his tool box, which had been found resting on the road by the parapet. Headingley didn't think this was significant. 'Clear as daylight,' he said. 'Driving along, feels dizzy, stops to get some air, climbs out, automatically picks up his tool box en route, 'cos that's what he always does and, having a dizzy turn, he's not thinking straight, right? Sits down on the bridge, everything goes black, over he goes, bangs his head on a stone, unconscious, drowns. Pathologist found no signs of foul play, did he?' 'There wouldn't be, would there, guv?' said Hat respectfully. 'Not when the crime's letting someone die without trying to save them.' 'Murder by neglect? On the basis of this?' Headingley waved the Dialogues folder scornfully in the air. 'Get real, son.' 'And the other, guv? Driving straight at that kid on the bike? If the Wordman did that, well, that's not neglect, is it? That's pretty positive, wouldn't you say?' 'What did you call him?' said Headingley, postponing answering the question. 'The Wordman,' said Hat. He explained about the In principle, then explained his joke, and if anything got an even dustier response than he had in the library. Clearly the DI felt that giving the author of the Dialogues a nickname gave him substance, making him harder to ignore, which was what he would have liked to do. But Hat was determined to pursue him to a decision. 'So you think we should just drop it, guv?' he persisted. He watched with hidden amusement as uncertainties chased each other like clouds across Headingley's broad open face. 'Well, I suppose you'd better take a look. Likes his t's crossed