No accounting for tastes, sir, said Jennison. Sorry. No, all I wanted to say was, I reckon it was more than just female nebbiness that kept her talking to me.
Certainly wasnt your magnetic personality, muttered Novello.
Pascoe frowned at her and said, Youre getting within lunar orbit distance of interesting, Joker. Try for a landing, eh?
Well, it were nowt really. She just kept on asking for details, like wanting a description of the fellow whod topped himself, and she were dead keen to know if any of the girls were involved.
You got this womans details, I take it?
Jennison looked uncomfortable.
No, sir. Sorry.
Jesus. Why not?
It werent till I got to thinking about it later that it struck me as odd enough to mention. And in any case Mr Dalziels car turned up while we were talking and I pushed her out of sight behind a tree and when the Super had gone up the drive, shed disappeared.
She shouldnt be hard to find, said Pascoe. Im sure the girls will be back tonight once the dust has settled. Pick her up and bring her in, will you? And thanks for bringing it to my notice, Joker.
He went into the house. Jennison gave a modestly self-deprecating shrug and a big wink to Novello, who said, Yes, thank you, Jerker, and followed.
Think it means anything, sir? she asked.
You never know.
Pity the plonker didnt mention it last night then.
Pascoe said gently, The plonker neednt have mentioned it at all, Shirley. And you wont get far in CID unless youve got an efficient working relationship with your uniformed colleagues.
The only efficient working relationship most of that lot want involves their only efficiently working part, thought Novello.
Yes, sir, she said, looking around the entrance hall, taking in the high ceilings and counting the doors. Big place.
Yes, said Pascoe. They knew the meaning of spacious living in those days.
Living! thought Novello. Spacious, maybe. Like a pyramid.
How longs it been up for sale? she asked.
A few months, I gather, he said.
So the estate agent will have a key and there could have been any number of people wandering round at one time or other?
I suppose. Why do you say that?
Never hesitate to point out the obvious, she said in a tone of voice at once precise and diffident which it took him a second to recognize as a parody of his own. The words too he recognized as one of his maxims for trainee tecs.
Someones certainly been using one of the bedrooms from time to time, he said.
Yeah? Maybe one of Jennisons lady friends decided it would be a lot more comfortable than getting shagged up against a tree or in the back of a Fiesta, said Novello. Easy enough to get hold of a key.
You think so? How?
Make an appointment with the agent and find a chance to make an impression of the key in a bit of putty. Or give the sod a freebie and get one that way. Shall I talk to the agent, sir?
Pascoe smiled at her indulgently and said, Not until we have reason enough to satisfy Mr Dalziel that would be a proper use of police time. The use of the bedroom is interesting but so far not of any apparent relevance. Lets take a look at the locus in quo, shall we?
She smiled back at him. Mention of something basic like shagging to Pascoe often sent him running to his fancy phrases, but it took more than a bit of Latin to impress a good Roman Catholic girl.
She followed Pascoe up the stairs.
On the landing he paused before an oaken door that showed signs of having been assaulted with a battering ram.
SOCO had clearly done a thorough job up here, leaving their print-indicating marks all over the place, including some on the doors lower panel about thirty inches from the ground.
Now why would anyone need to touch that part of a door? wondered Pascoe.
A child? suggested Novello. Or, more likely, whoever it was got here first knelt to look through the keyhole and rested his hand on the panel.
Good thinking, said Pascoe, checking the fingerprint report. Constable Maycock and Sergeant Bonnick, who had their prints taken for elimination. But also theres a full palm-print from someone else not known. Meaning?
I dont know, sir.
Me neither. Heres something else. On the doorknob they found prints from Sergeant Bonnick and Constables Maycock and Jennison. No one else.
He looked at Novello expectantly.
What about Maciver? she said. He must have turned the knob to get in.
Youd think so, said Pascoe. Though I suppose with three other people touching the knob, his prints could have got covered over. But how to explain that on the key theres only one partial, not Macivers?
Keys are crap to dust, said Novello. Partial could have been there for years. And maybe Jennison wiped it clean for a laugh.
Shaking his head reprovingly, Pascoe pushed the door open.
The study was full of light. The previous night on his command the shutters had been fully opened to check that they were as secure as they looked. They were. In fact the shutter catches were almost melded together by corrosion, and the sash windows were stiff from long disuse, making Pascoe wonder if theyd remained shut ever since the death of Pal Maciver Senior ten years earlier. Hed instructed that they be left open to let some air into the room to waft away the smell of smoke, cordite and death.
Novello found herself staring fixedly at the bespattered desk, trying to imagine what it was that could bring a man to this level of despair or self-hate. She forced her gaze away and tried to get a feel for the rest of the room. Two tall cabinets packed with books, most of them backed with that posh leather that tells the world, Were so awfully dull, no one ever reads us; picture of some guy on the wall dressed like a tramp, not bad looking if he lightened up a bit; on one side a coil of rope and on the other an ice axe whose function she recognized from a short but entertaining relationship shed had with a rock climber whod almost got her interested in the sport by doing something very ingenious with her on the sports centre climbing wall one night after everyone else had gone. But not even the prospect of a reprise had persuaded her it was worth submitting herself to the violence of wind, weather, vegetation and insect life by joining him on expeditions to godforsaken places like Wales or the Lake District.
Shirley, said Pascoe in a tone which suggested that this wasnt the first time hed said it. Still with me? Good. Youve just read the file on the previous case. Take me through the sequence of events then.
Novello refocused.
They worked out he put a record on the turntable, set it playing, sat down, started to write a note to his wife
How do we know it was to his wife? interrupted Pascoe.
Because hed addressed an envelope to her. But he must have changed his mind about the note. Perhaps he decided the poetry book would do just as well. So he set fire to the note, dropped it in the bin, took his shoe and sock off, put his big toe through a loop of twine, the other end of which was tied round the trigger of a shotgun, placed the trigger under his jaw, and blew his head off.
Interesting. Why did he set fire to the note? Any speculation there?
Nothing in the file, but I presume because he wrote something which didnt sound right when he read it back to himself. Maybe it was something nasty, like he was blaming her. Sir, why are you bothering yourself about what the father did ten years ago? Surely we should be concentrating on what the son did last night?
But we know why the son did things the way he did, said Pascoe. Because he was imitating his dad. The question is, why did he want to imitate his dad? And what precisely was it about his dads death he thought he was imitating? Was it more than just the method and sequence? Was he perhaps trying to tell us he had the same motives? And if thats the case, weve got to be sure we understand why he thought his father killed himself.
Novello considered this then said, According to the tape
What tape? said Pascoe, raising his eyebrows at her.
Sorry. According to rumour, he thought his father was driven to suicide by a combination of things, but mainly by the behaviour and attitudes of his wife. So perhaps it was the same for Pal Junior.
You mean his own wife, Sue-Lynn, not Kay Kafka?
The envelope was addressed to Sue-Lynn.
But was the poem addressed to her as well, or was that just straight forward imitation of his dads bad example? And why did he want to imitate his father anyway? What did he hope to achieve by doing that? Better still, perhaps we should ask ourselves, what has he achieved by doing that?
Novello half hid a yawn and said, Not a lot, Id say, except make us spend a lot of time trawling through the old case.
Shed been going to say waste, but thought that on top of the yawn this might be an implied criticism too far.
But Pascoe was looking at her as if shed come close to saying something profound.
You may have something there, Shirley. Would you care to expand?
She was spared this trial (why did she always feel so tested in Pascoes company?) by Jennisons voice calling, Sir? Sir? from the hall below.
Pascoe went out on to the landing and looked down. Jennison was leaning his bulk against the closed front door as if anticipating an attempt to force it open.
Pascoe went out on to the landing and looked down. Jennison was leaning his bulk against the closed front door as if anticipating an attempt to force it open.
Yes?
Got some people outside would like to speak with you, sir. Two ladies. The sisters, I think they said.
Cressida. Now sober, he hoped.
So, one ladys the sister. And the other?
No, sir. I think both ladies said they was the sister.
Helen? Risen so soon from her maternity ward bed? Not likely.
Someone started thumping very hard on the door.
Pascoe said, Better let them in, and started descending the stairs.
Jennison opened the door and Cressida Maciver almost fell in, her face flushed with, he hoped, anger rather than booze. She was followed less precipitately by a woman in her late fifties, leaning, though not too heavily, on a knobbly oak walking stick.
There you are! Cressida cried accusingly. Was it on your instructions that this fat oaf shut me out of my own house?
Miss Maciver, said Pascoe, deciding to keep it formal for the time being. I understand what a trying time this must be for you, but being personally offensive to my officer isnt going to make things easier for anyone. Lets go through here.