Dialogues of the Dead

“Oh yes. Most of the coins in the tourist bags like the one Follows was carrying are replicas, but for authenticity they decided to include a few examples of the real thing, well-used Roman coins too worn to have any value to a collector. Did the Wordman select it deliberately because he wanted the real thing, I wonder. And perhaps too we should recall that the classical Greeks used to place an obolus or small coin in the mouth of the dead so that they could pay Charon to ferry them over the Styx.”

“Karen?” said Dalziel. “Over the sticks? Grand National’s not been the same since they invented women jockeys.”

Pascoe, who’d heard it all before, ignored this provocative philistinism and concluded, “Anyway there we have it, a dollar sign and a Roman coin. I suppose it could be some kind of statement about money being the root of all evil?”

He looked hopefully towards the two doctors.

Pottle shook his head.

“I doubt it. As I say, I find little evidence of any warped moral schema here. He’s not killing people because they are prostitutes, or black, or Arsenal supporters. No, I’d guess that the coin and the sign are riddle elements rather than psychological indices. Perhaps our semiotic expert can help.”

He blew a wraith of smoke towards Drew Urquhart who had apparently overcome all the gymnastic problems inherent in going to sleep on a hard office chair.

The linguist opened his eyes, yawned, and scratched his stubbly face.

“Thought about it,” he said. “Not a fucking clue what they mean.”

Dalziel rolled his eyes like ten-pin bowls but before he could knock the Scot over, he continued, “But there is a couple of wee things that did strike me. I’ll go through the Dialogue bit by bit if that’s OK, Mr. Trimble?”

He looked deferentially towards the Chief Constable. The sly sod’s sending Andy up! thought Pascoe. With an embarrassed glance at his Head of CID, Trimble nodded.

“First para takes the form of a question, establishing a dialogue between him and us. Second starts biblically, ‘me of little faith,’ version of Matthew 14.31. Then note ‘a quarter of the way.’ Eight deaths so far, implying another twenty-four to go, though not necessarily, as I shall explain later.”

“Can’t wait,” said Dalziel.

“Cross your legs and think of Jesus, my old gran used to say,” said Urquhart. “Something else here, same para, you must have noticed it with your guid Scots ancestry, Mr. Dalziel. ‘Braggart step.’ Now how does it go?”

He started humming a tune, then interpolated the odd word as though having difficulty remembering, the whiles looking imploringly at Dalziel who suddenly amazed them all by breaking forth in a not unpleasing baritone and singing, “If you’re thinking in your inner hairt the braggart’s in my step, ye’ve never smelt the tangle o’ the Isles!”

“Bravo,” said Urquhart. “Guid to see you’ve not gone completely native.”

“So the Wordman knows the song. So what?”

“By heather paths wi’ heaven in their wiles,” murmured Urquhart. “It all builds a picture. Next para: ‘Happy word.’ Presumably followed because of course he is following Follows. Well, we knew he was a word freak, but more interestingly, note the bit which says that Follows is equally part of the plan, ‘though his time seemed some way removed.’ Question, how so? Presumably it means that Follows wasn’t the next in sequence. The next but one, maybe? Then why say some way removed? Also notice half a dozen paras on, ‘the middle step still not clear.’ As if to say that even with the real next target, which must be Bird, available, there’s still an intermediary step between Bird and Follows.”

“Like last time,” said Pascoe, who’d been listening with intense interest. “He talked about three steps, didn’t he? Even though there was only the one body.”

Urquhart nodded approvingly as though at a favoured pupil and went on, “Makes me wonder if the coin and the dollar sign might not have something to do with this middle step. But fuck knows what. Let’s move on. Next para, nothing. Then they start talking. This felt literary to me. I checked it out with my wee hairie. ‘What a fearful night is this! There’s two or three of us have seen strange sights,’ is Julius Caesar, Act One Scene Three. But Diomed and Glaucus don’t seem to be in Shakespeare.”

“Bulwer Lytton, Last Days of Pompeii, Chapter One,” said Dalziel. “Thought everyone knew that.”