Dialogues of the Dead

Christ, it’s like your mind is a goldfish bowl and this big cat dips his paw in whenever he fancies, thought Hat.

“Yes, she might be OK,” he said. Then because this sounded a little lukewarm, he added, “She’s been very helpful in getting my ideas sorted already.”

And saw his error even as the words came out.

“Already? Make a habit of discussing confidential police matters with pretty young things, do you?” said the Fat Man. “I hope not, lad, ’cos that’s the second rule I were going to tell you. When someone takes a hold of your bollocks, whether to twist ’em or to stroke ’em, just lie back and think of me. There’s not enough pleasure or pain in the world to cover what I’m likely to do to any bugger I catch talking out of school. You with me, lad?”

“Yes, sir. I’m with you,” said Hat, wishing with all his sinking heart he wasn’t.

But that naturally ebullient organ rose again when as they got out of the car the Fat Man said, “That weren’t a bad idea about Charley Penn’s books. Have a chat with that lass of thine. From the sound of it, she owes you one. And I don’t mean a jump. That you negotiate with your own coin, not mine.”

And things got even better when they arrived in the reference library to find Rye alone, looking very fetching in a low-cut sleeveless top and clinging hipsters.

“How do, luv,” said Dalziel. “Bossman around?”

“Sorry, no. He just popped out,” said Rye. “Can I

help?”

“Not really. Need to talk to him. Any idea where he’s gone?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to give members of the public …” She broke off and looked at Dalziel more closely. “Oh, it’s Mr. Dazzle, isn’t it? Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. Is it police business? Then I’m sure it’ll be OK. He’s gone along to the Heritage Centre, he shouldn’t be long if you’d like to wait.”

Behind Dalziel, Hat grinned broadly, especially at Rye’s studied mispronunciation of the holy name.

But the Fat Man was untroubled by such bird-bolts as this and replied courteously, “Thank you, Ms. Pomona, but I’ll just go and find him. Glad to see you so chipper after your nasty experience at the weekend. Lot of lasses these days would have needed a month off work and counselling for life. Thank God there’s still some of the old stock around. But if you do need to talk to anyone, DC Bowler’s a good listener.”

With a hint of a wink at Hat, he wandered off through the door.

“You like living dangerously, do you?” said Hat.

Rye smiled and said, “Not so dangerous, just your normal neanderthal. I caught him clocking my cleavage.”

Hat, who had been enjoying an eyeful himself, averted his gaze and said, “So how’re you keeping?”

“I’m OK. Didn’t sleep too well, but that’ll pass.”

“I’m sure, but look, don’t try to be too relaxed about it. That was a nasty shock you had, the head and all. These things can get to you in unexpected ways.”

“You were there too. You have some kind of immunity?”

“No. That’s how I know about how it can hit you.”

They regarded each other gravely, then she smiled and reached out and touched his hand and said, “OK, so let’s counsel each other. Like a coffee?”

“If you’re not too busy.”

She gestured round at the almost empty library. A couple of pallid students were working in the reading bays, a wild-haired woman was sitting at a table behind a wall of the bound Transactions of the Mid-Yorkshire Archaeological Society, there was no sign of Penn or Roote or any of the regulars.

“Not exactly overworked, are you?” he said.

“We do other things than deal with the public,” she said. “And with Dick busy elsewhere, I’m glad things are so quiet.”

“So what’s so important in Heritage?” he asked as she led him into the office.

“It’s the Roman Experience. It’s due to open tomorrow. Councillor Steel’s death tipped the balance and the money was voted through at the next council meeting.”

“They haven’t hung about spending it then.”

“Everything was set up, it just needed the announcement that bills would be paid.”

“And what’s it got to do with Dick?”

“Nothing really. But you know this power struggle I told you about, between Prancing Percy and the Last of the Actor-Managers? Well, they’re both desperately trying to take the credit for the Roman Experience, and as Dick knows infinitely more about classical history than Percy, he’s been commanded along to give gravitas to Percy’s pronouncements. The trouble is, from Percy’s point of view, that Dick is so honest and even handed, Ambrose Bird raises no objection.”

“What about this woman, whatsername, the one who’s been ill? Is she still off the scene?”