Is that so? You did know she was a member of a gun club, didnt you? said Dalziel.
Of course I did.
And you never noticed any of her weapons about the house? They have to be kept under lock and key, Mr Swain, in a proper cabinet. You mean to tell me that a pro builder like you never noticed this interesting extension to your wifes wardrobe?
Dalziels sneers were as subtle as birdshit down a windscreen. Swain said wearily, The guns werent kept in the house, except on the odd occasion shed been shooting in some competition at another club and needed to store one overnight. Thats the only reason we had the secure cabinet put in. Otherwise they were kept in the club armoury.
Dalziel looked nonplussed for a moment.
When was the last time she had a gun at home, then? he asked.
A couple of years ago, Id say, said Swain. She gave up competition shooting, you see, so there was never any reason to remove them from the club.
And you arent a member of this club?
No. I told you. I hate guns, ever since well, Ive always hated them. And I was right, wasnt I?
His voice rose to something not far short of a shout. Dalziel regarded him speculatively for a while, then he turned on a sympathetic smile, his face lighting up like the Ministry of Love.
Im glad you feel like that about guns, Mr Swain. My sentiments entirely. I gather theres a very different attitude to gun-ownership in the States.
He made the States sound like somewhere beyond Alpha Centauri.
I believe so, said Swain. He put his hand to his brow as if to massage a headache. Then he asked in a low voice, Has my mother-in-law, Mrs Delgado, been told?
I expect so, said Dalziel negligently. Leastways we told the Los Angeles police. Shes sick, you say?
Yes. Shes pretty well bedridden now. The most optimistic prognosis is a year, perhaps eighteen months.
So your missus would be planning a long trip mebbe.
It was open-ended. Naturally, if the end looked imminent, Gail would have stayed.
So thats why she took most of her clothes?
What? Oh yes, of course. Youve been poking around the house.
Not me personally. One of my officers. Routine. But he did say it looked like thered been a good clear-out.
If youd ever seen what Gail packed for a weekend in the country, youd not be surprised at that, Superintendent, said Swain sadly.
Oh aye, I know what you mean, said Dalziel with a rueful shake of his head to express male solidarity. How long do you reckon shed have stayed in Hambleton Road, Mr Swain?
How the hell should I know? Youd better ask Waterson that.
I shall. Make a note to ask Mr Waterson when you see him, Sergeant Wield, said Dalziel.
Pascoe felt Wield wince beneath his totem-pole impassivity. The Sergeant had set all the systems at top pressure to track down Waterson, but so far thered been no trace. Wield had spoken briefly to the wife before leaving the hospital. She had denied any knowledge of her husbands intentions or whereabouts, and agreed to make herself available for a longer interview at the end of her shift.
Dalziel leaned forward and said, Talking of Waterson, what do you reckon to him, Mr Swain? Setting aside the fact he were knocking off your wife.
Swain looked at him in amazement and Pascoe tensed his muscles to intervene. Then Swain shook his head and said, Id heard about you, Dalziel, but no one got close to the reality.
Dalziel looked modestly pleased and said, Well, like they say, only God can make a tree. So? Waterson?
I dont know. He seemed all right. Lively. Pretty bright. Not a good payer, but who is these days?
I hope youll not have any bother when you finish our car park and garages, said Dalziel righteously. Had to twist his arm a bit, did you?
I had to bill him a few times and give him a couple of phone calls.
No solicitors letters delivered by a pair of brickies with a German Shepherd?
Youve been attending too many trials, said Swain. If anything, I went more than usually easy with Waterson. I felt some sympathy with him. He was like me a couple of years back, trying to set up by himself after hed been made redundant, and I know how careful youve got to be with the money then. Also I gather his wife left him. Theres ironic for you! I felt sorry for the bastard because his wife had left him and she probably did it because she found he was screwing around with mine!
Mebbe so. You met her, did you?
Mrs Waterson? Only once. The day the job started. I got the distinct impression that was the first she knew of it. I never saw her again but Im not around all the time. Arnie Stringer, my partner, usually takes care of on-site supervision.
Does he now? Now that is good news, Mr Swain.
What do you mean?
Nowt, except its a comfort to know your men will be able to get on with our garages while weve got you banged up in here, said Dalziel cheerfully.
It was not the worst of his provocations but it was the one that hit the button. Swain shot to his feet and shouted, You great lump of blubber, Ive had enough of this. I dont have to sit here listening to your loutish maunderings. Cant you get it into your thick skull, she was my wife, and shes dead, and I blame myself shes dead, and I blame
As rapidly as he had risen, he slumped in his chair again, pressed his face into his hands and his whole body went into a spasm of almost silent sobbing.
Dalziel viewed the scene with the detachment of a first-night critic, belched, stood up and said, I dont know about you lot, but my belly feels like me throats been slit. Lunch.
Outside he said, Hes good. Best free show since Crippen broke down at his wifes funeral.
Thats a bit hard, protested Pascoe. Hes got good cause to be upset.
You mean, because Im on to his nasty game? growled Dalziel.
Pascoe grimaced and said, Look, sir, with this statement of Watersons in the files I know theres a bit of difference, but with two of them on more or less the same lines
Aye, it is odd, that, said Dalziel deliberately misunderstanding. Wieldy, youve had the rare privilege of seeing both these buggers while theyre compos mentis. How do you read it? Any chance of em being a pair of poofs cooking up this Irish stew between em?
Was the question more or less offensive for being addressed to a gay? And did it make any difference that Wield had received a measure of protection from Dalziel when others were ready to ladle on the persecution with generous hand?
Wield said, Id say no, theyre not gay. Though theyre not always easy to spot, are they? Incidentally, I ran them both through the computer just in case no one else heard your instructions last night, sir.
Is he being cheeky? wondered Dalziel, who was notorious for his distrust of any form of intelligence that couldnt sup ale. Man who lets a key witness go missing should think twice before hes cheeky. All right, lad, what did the Mighty Wurlitzer say?
Nothing known about Swain, said Wield. But Waterson lost his driving licence last week.
Oh, great, mocked Dalziel. That changes everything, that does.
What did he do, Wieldy? asked Pascoe defensively.
Nowt really. Hed totted up penalty points pretty regularly for motor offences, but a couple of weeks back he got flashed because one of his rear lights was on the blink and he took off like a jet. They picked him up later all apologetic, thought hed probably be drunk, but he was well inside the limit. So they did him for speeding and that put him over the top.
For crying out loud! said Dalziel in exasperation. Cant either of you contribute owt useful? Peter, what do you reckon to these two?
Ive not met Waterson, Pascoe pointed out. But he sounds wayward.
Wayward, eh? said Dalziel. Ill make a note. And Swain? Does he sound wayward too?
No, but he sounds a very odd kind of small-time builder.
What? Too educated, you mean? Youd best not let yourself be heard talking like that at home else youll be washing your mouth out with carbolic. But I know what you mean. Hes a very odd kind of fellow all round. Has to be if he thinks he can get the better of me! But were wasting good drinking time. Well have to postpone your celebration, but
Theres still an hour, said Pascoe.
Aye, but Wieldy here wont be with us, will you, Sergeant? Hes got another hospital appointment, if he doesnt manage to lose this one too. You and me though, Peter, well have a jar and go over these two statements with a fine-tooth comb.
Three statements, said Pascoe, crossing his fingers and trying to cross his toes.
Three? What do you mean three?
Wield took a small step towards the window as if contemplating hurling himself through it when hostilities broke out.
Theres Swains, Dalziel went on. And theres Watersons. What other buggers made a statement that needs looking at?
Pascoe wondered if the window were wide enough for a double defenestration.
He took a deep breath and thought that no matter what they paid chief inspectors, it wasnt enough.
Yours, he said. Sir.
CHAPTER FIVE
The nurses annexe at the Infirmary was a nineteen-sixties purpose-built block situated about a furlong from the main building and linked to it by what had once been a pleasant tree-lined walk. Pleasant, that is, in summer and daylight. A series of late-night assaults a decade before had made protection more important than pleasance, and now the pathway was flanked by more lamp standards than trees and corridored in high tensile steel link-fencing.
Wield found Pamela Watersons room on the third floor. When she opened the door she regarded him blankly for a second, then said, Oh, its you, and turned away.
He followed her into the room where she flopped wearily into a chair. Her long blonde hair was loose now, its bright tresses about her face accentuating the dark shadows under her eyes.
Im sorry, he said, I can see youre very tired.
You dont have to be a detective to work that out, she answered bitterly. I was tired when I came off my last shift two hours late because my relief had a car accident. Then I only managed an hours sleep before I was due on again
Why was that? interrupted Wield.
Nothing special, she said, lighting her third cigarette since his arrival. Life goes on, all the ordinary tedious things that take a few minutes when youre on top of them. Shopping, paying bills, washing, ironing
Do you have a family, Mrs Waterson? he interrupted again.
Do I look like I have a family? she said, gesturing around.
Presumably she simply meant that a bedsitter in a nurses block was not a place to bring up a family, but Wield seized the opportunity for an open examination of the room.
There was little to be learned from the mainly institutional furniture. On the wall above the bed there was a little wooden crucifix; on another wall above a small bookcase hung a charcoal sketch of a female head whose laughing vitality delayed identification with the weary woman before him. He let his gaze fall to the books. Pascoe laid great store on books as revealers of personality. Mrs Watersons choice ran mainly to biography and her taste was wide. There were a couple of Royals, Charles and Earl Mountbatten; several showbiz, including Monroe, Garland, the Beatles and Olivier; one political, Lloyd George; and a scattering of literary, ranging from Byron and Shelley through Emily Brontë and Oscar Wilde to Sylvia Plath and Simone de Beauvoir.
Looking for the meaning of her own life in other peoples patterns was the way Pascoe would probably see it. Dalziel on the other hand would say, Sod the books! Poke about behind them, see what shes hiding!
Wield knew all about hiding, knew also that we hide far less than we think. For years he had hidden his true sexual identity behind the dustjacket of a straight, middle-of-the-road, unemotional cop. But when he finally decided to come out, no delicate glowing butterfly emerged. He was still the same old lumpy green caterpillar nibbling systematically at the leaf till the holes joined up and he could see clear to the other side.
He returned now to his nibbling and pointed at the crucifix.
Youre a Catholic, are you, Mrs Waterson?
What? Oh, I see. And that means I should be producing every year like a brood mare?
I didnt say that. But there could be kids who stayed with their dad or went to gran when the bust-up happened.
Well, there werent. And what do you know about my bust-up? Whove you been talking to? Some tittle-tattle at the hospital? God, if they worked as hard as I do, theyd have no time to gossip!
She spoke with a fervour which brought colour to her wan cheeks. Wield, who had been trying to apportion the turmoil he discerned here between concern for her work and other causes possibly linked to his investigation, pushed a large emotional counter towards the job.
Do you like being a nurse? he asked with deliberate fatuity.
Like? You mean, is it a vocation? Or, do I go around the wards singing?
Bit of both, I suppose. I mean, you must be good at it. How old are you, twenty-six, twenty-seven? And youre a ward sister already.
She laughed and lit another cigarette.
Im twenty-four, Sergeant, and when I came here three years ago, they said I looked sixteen. And as for being a sister, Im that because these days nurses are coming in in dribs and leaving in droves. Me, I reckon I didnt have half the experience necessary for it, and sometimes when Im alone on the ward in the middle of the night and its all quiet except for the odd groan and fart, and I can hardly keep my eyes open, I get to thinking that if something happens, some life or death emergency, Im the one wholl be making the decisions till they rouse some poor bloody doctor who can probably hardly keep his eyes open either. Then I start shaking, partly with fear and partly with anger, at the sheer unfairness of expecting me to do the job at all.
How relevant was all this? wondered Wield. It might have something to do with the case in terms of the break-up of the Waterson marriage. Or it might be a deliberate tactic of diversion. But this he doubted. There was too much genuine passion not to mention desperation for this outburst to be tactical.