Dialogues of the Dead

“Disappointed? If you listen hard, you can probably hear the rain lashing against my bedroom window, and you want me to be disappointed I’m not getting up to spend most of the day dripping wet looking for so-called dumb creatures who have probably got sense enough to stay cosily tucked up in their burrows?”

“Nests. Are you saying you’re still in bed?”

“Certainly. It’s my day off even if it’s not yours. Hello? You still there? You’re not fantasizing about me, I hope?”

“Of course not. I’m a cop. We have our imaginations surgically removed. But we get issued with surveillance equipment instead, so no need for fantasies.”

“You mean you’ve got me under observation? OK, what am I doing now?”

He thought for a while. This was fun, but he didn’t want to ruin things by going too far too fast, even verbally.

“Scratching your nose?” he said cautiously.

She giggled and said huskily, “Nearly right. So how’s the case going? Are we all still suspects?”

It had been Rye who had pointed out the obvious to him on Saturday afternoon when he’d apologized for the time she’d spent being questioned as a possible witness. “And suspect,” she’d added. “Don’t sell us short. Everyone who was at the preview and left before or at the same time as Councillor Steel is a potential suspect. My money’s on Percy Follows.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I understand he’s used to assaulting men with a very small weapon.”

He’d regarded her gravely and said, “You should have joined the police too.”

“Because of my insights?”

“No. Because you know how to avoid letting the nastiness of things get to you by making bad jokes.”

Even as he spoke he thought, You pompous twit! She’s going to love you for coming over all righteous on her.

But her reaction was worse than indignation. Her eyes filled with tears and she said, “I’m sorry …I was only trying not to …”

Which was when he’d put his arms around her and pulled her close and was prevented, or perhaps saved, from discovering whether this was their first embrace or just a comforting hug by Sergeant Wield’s dry cough and drier voice, saying, “When you’ve quite finished with that witness, Detective Constable Bowler …”

Now he said, “Of course you’re all still suspects. Which is why I intend to keep you under close personal surveillance. Listen, I’ll be in touch. Let’s forget the Stangdale trip, maybe we can do a movie or something …”

“Like The Birds, you mean? Sorry. Yes, that would be nice too, but I’m a woman of my word. I said I’d twitch with you and twitch I will. Next week OK?”

“Yes, if you’re sure. I mean, that’s great. And we’ll go back to making it a whole day, OK? I’ll provide a picnic.”

“Don’t get carried away. Fine, that’s fixed. Ring me. Now you get on with keeping society safe for decent folk and I’ll get back to scratching my nose. Bye.”

He switched off his phone, scratched his nose, and smiled. He’d always found the idea of telephone sex a turn-off, but the way he felt now, maybe there was something in it. His relationship with Rye had certainly taken a step forward; though he could see it being knocked a couple of long steps back when she realized he’d kept stumm about the Fourth Dialogue. The temptation to tell her had been strong but, over the phone at least, not as strong as Sergeant Wield’s prohibition on spreading the news.

“Keep this to yourself,” Wield had said. “As far as the world’s concerned, Councillor Steel’s death is an isolated incident until the super decides different. And you want the super to feel you’re reliable, don’t you? Especially around young women.”

Hat had thought of arguing that as Rye Pomona had been instrumental in bringing them into contact with the Wordman, she had a right to know, but it wasn’t an argument he felt he could sustain in face of those louring features.

So instead he said, “Any reason why the super shouldn’t think I’m reliable, Sarge?”

“I think,” said Wield carefully, “he felt you might have got a bit close to Jax Ripley.”

He watched the youngster’s face closely, saw puzzlement bubble to understanding then boil into indignation.

“You mean all that stuff she did about us falling down on the job, Mr. Dalziel thought she was getting inside info from me? Jesus, Sarge, nearly every time I saw her, we got in a row about those programmes. OK, so we stayed friends, sort of, but we both knew we were just using each other. I might have done the odd trade-off with her-I’ll show you mine if you show me yours-but if she had a real Deep-throat in the Force, it certainly wasn’t me!”

Wield noted but did not comment on the sexual imagery used in the denial. Though unsusceptible to such things himself, he was perfectly aware when a woman was turning up the heat in his direction, and he’d got a good warm blast on the couple of occasions he’d met the TV reporter. If, and he tended to believe him, Bowler hadn’t succumbed beyond the point of professional discretion, then it said much for the young man’s self-control.