Dialogues of the Dead

It was a show-stopper for everyone but Pascoe, who knew that this volume was a pretty well permanent feature of Dalziel’s bedside table. His knowledge did not come from any personal acquaintance with the Fat Man’s sleeping arrangements but because on one of the rare occasions Ellie had been in his house, she had “inadvertently” wandered into the bedroom when looking for the bathroom, an “error” she repeated on the next two rare occasions. The book remained in place, but the bookmark she noticed in it had changed places, suggesting either a very slow or a cyclic reading.

She’d also noted that the volume was stamped Property of the Longboat Hotel, Scarborough and the bookmark was a folded copy of a bill for a week’s stay directed to the account of Mr. and Mrs. A.H. Dalziel. Little was known, or perhaps self-preservation ensured little was said, about Dalziel’s ex-wife. But Ellie, noting the date on the bill, declared, “This must have been their honeymoon! And he’s kept the book he stole by his bed all these years. How romantic!” and immediately went out and bought a second-hand copy. Pascoe had tried to read it but gave up after a couple of chapters so had to be content with his wife’s psychological exegesis.

All this flitted across his mind, plus an epiphanic revelation of the significance of that second initial which he’d never known the Fat Man use anywhere else as he heard Urquhart say, “Don’t know it, Hamish. What’s it about?”

“About the eruption of Vesuvius that destroyed the city way back in Roman times.”

“Well, that fits with all that stuff about lava later on. And the Julius Caesar quote might suggest that a tyrant is about to be overthrown …”

“Hang on,” said Pascoe. “These aren’t the Wordman’s words but what Follows and Bird said to each other.”

“We only have the Wordman’s word for that,” said Urquhart. “And I did say might suggest. I’m just trying to strike a few ideas here. On a bit. ‘Middle step, lava,’ done that. Ah yes, the para about them getting down to it in the water. Bit of excitement here. No moral disapproval, I’d agree with Pottle there, but I think the Wordman got a wee bittie titillation here, maybe. ‘Like a full-acorned boar, a German one …’”

He looked invitingly at Dalziel who said, “Nay, lad. Tha’s had all the help tha’s going to get from me. I don’t keep pups and yap.”

“Shakespeare again. Cymbeline. Posthumus imagines the suppositious coupling of his wife, Imogen, with her alleged lover, Iachimo.”

“Like a full-acorned boar, eh?” savoured Dalziel. “Not bad. So what do you make of that, dominie?”

Urquhart grinned at the appellation and said, “Fuck all. On we go. Para starting ‘Like a surgeon,’ note the little play on hand and foot. This cunt really lives in a world where words and their relationships mean more than people and theirs. ‘Questing vole’ is a bit odd …”

“Evelyn Waugh,” said Pascoe.

“Oh, her,” said Dalziel.

“Feather-footed through the plashy fen passes the questing vole. Scoop,” said Pascoe.

“Significant?” wondered Urquhart.

“It’s parodic. And of course comic. I suppose it reinforces what you said about the Wordman’s preference of words to people. Yet wasn’t there in the first couple of Dialogues anyway some sense of genuine, I don’t know, almost affection for Mr. Ainstable and young Pitman?”

They all considered for a moment then Novello said, “Maybe the difference was, he didn’t know them. Not personally.”

This was her first contribution. She really didn’t look well, thought Pascoe, determined that she was going to be dispatched home the minute this lot was over.

Hat Bowler checked out his colleague’s pallor with less sympathetic eyes. What the fuck was she doing here anyway? he asked himself. This case was his big chance to establish himself firmly as a player in the Holy Trinity’s game and he didn’t care to see an old favourite coming up on the rails.

But you don’t shoot old favourites down, not in public anyway.

He said brightly, “That’s right. He seems to have got started on this by chance. But after those two, all the others seem to be connected in some way, either with the investigation or with the library. How about if he knew the others and had reasons for not caring about them?”

“Or reasons for not letting his acquaintance with them get in the way of killing them. Word-play, jokes, quotation can be useful distancing devices,” said Pottle.

Dalziel made a noise like an old iron pier undermined by the suck of the sea and said wistfully, “Are we near done?”

“Not quite. The best is still to be,” said Urquhart. “Last prose para. Thought you might have had something to say about this, Pozzo.”