Dialogues of the Dead

“There’s no way,” she mimicked. “Should have thought you heard that all the time from wives, mothers, fathers, brothers, husbands, friends.”

“Yeah, but …” He paused, collected his thoughts, then resumed, “OK, you’re right. I still think there’s no way the DI could be involved in her death-no, wait, not just because I know him, but because there definitely isn’t any way he’s the Wordman and that’s who killed Jax. OK, you’re probably going to say he’s seen the Dialogues and he could have faked one, but the next one refers back to the Ripley murder and surely you’re not going to say he killed Councillor Steel as well?”

Rye, who had been eating a buttery croissant, swallowed and said, “A girl could get fat talking to you. I mean, I don’t need to open my mouth except to put food in, with you telling me all the time what I’m going or not going to say.”

“Sorry,” he said. “But you see what I mean.”

“Maybe. All right, it doesn’t seem very likely, though Steel was in cahoots with Ripley, wasn’t he? And maybe your DI thought Jax had let him in on their little secret. But it doesn’t matter. What I’m saying is you need to get that possibility entirely out of the way so that all you’re left with is the big decision, do you drop this guy in it or not? He’s not a friend, is he?”

“No way.”

“And he didn’t mind letting that Yorkshire yeti you call your boss go on thinking you were the departmental leak, did he?”

“I don’t know if he knew about that,” said Hat.

“There you go, defensive again. Why do you give a toss what happens to this guy? He’s cheated on his wife and he’s cheated on his colleagues. Sounds like just the sort of scumbag who ought to get his comeuppance.”

She looked at him challengingly.

He shook his head and said, “No, he’s not a scumbag. He’s been in the job for thirty years and by all accounts he’s been a good cop. Fat Andy would have seen him down the road a long time back if he hadn’t been that. So he’s coming to the end of his career and probably wondering what it was all about when this good-looking bird half his age makes herself available …”

“Her fault then?”

“No one’s fault, but you read the e-mail. Mid-life crisis, last-chance saloon, call it what you like, but he was a sitting duck. As for the stuff he seems to have told her, well, it wasn’t exactly earth-shaking stuff …”

“It shook Jax Ripley into the earth.”

“She took a risk. And she really egged the mix! All we had then were two doubtful deaths and she made it sound like Hannibal the Cannibal was roaming the streets! Not his fault, though I reckon he blames himself. Anyway, one life gone. Is it worth another, I ask myself.”

“And how do you answer yourself?”

He grinned at her and said, “Well, you’ll be pleased to hear I’m going to take some excellent advice I just received. I’ll check out his alibi for the night of Jax’s death and once I’ve got that sorted, then I’ll make up my mind.”

She grinned back and said, “You know, we might make something of you yet. Is that it? Because I’m running on library time already.”

“Tell them you were dealing with a ratepayer’s research problem. That should ease your conscience. And to ease mine, a little bit of official business-when you were waiting to be interviewed by Sergeant Wield in the gallery, did you chat with anybody?”

“I expect so. There wasn’t a rule of silence, was there? Why are you asking?”

“Well, it was just that when you went back to the library for your things, you didn’t specify anyone you saw, and I wondered if you mentioned that’s where you’d gone to anyone else while you were waiting.”

She was lightning quick.

“So they could give themselves some kind of alibi by mentioning they’d seen me, you mean?”

“That kind of thing.”

And now she was angry and he could see all his good approach work going for nothing.

“Is this about Dick? It is, isn’t it?”

“No,” he protested. “OK, he did say he saw you and you didn’t say you saw him …”

“And that means he’s lying? That he wasn’t there when I was because he was in the lavatory killing Councillor Steel? For God’s sake, when you lot take against someone, you really go all the way, don’t you? No wonder the jails seem to be full of innocent people fitted up by the fuzz!”

She stood up, knocking her coffee mug over, and he jumped up to avoid the flood.

He said quickly, “Right idea, wrong guy. It’s that novelist fellow, Penn, I’m curious about. He mentions seeing both you and Dee. Neither of you mention him.”

He watched as the anger drained from her face and thought, but had the wisdom not to say, that it was fascinating the way her indignation at a possible encroachment on civil liberties didn’t extend to include Charley Penn.

“No,” she said slowly, “I definitely didn’t notice him. And yes, when I chatted to Dick while we were waiting to make our statements Penn was hanging around like he usually does. But you’re not really suggesting …”