He sounded like a second-rate actor in a third-rate soap.
Oh dear. What a pity. Cress, Im sorry. Ive got to go. Perils of domesticity, eh?
Cressida was standing behind her, looking like she didnt believe a word of it. Dont blame her, thought Ellie. If Peter had sounded stilted, she sounded like a parody of provincial rep. All she lacked was a French window and a tennis racket.
But no time to hang about for the reviews.
She grabbed her coat, gave her friend a quick hug and followed Peter down the steps of the narrow Edwardian terrace house to his car.
The police radio crackled into life as he opened the door.
Ellie, used to the background when she travelled with her husband, didnt pay any attention till he grabbed the mike, identified himself and asked for details.
Shit, thought Ellie. How often did it happen that your lying excuses turned true? Hed said he was tied up with something and now God was making sure he was, which was a shame as, whether in reaction from or reaction to her friends probing tongue she didnt care to know, she wouldnt have minded getting home full of wine for an early night
She felt herself pushed aside as Cressida came bounding down the steps and thrust her head into the car.
What was that about Moscow House? she demanded.
Pascoe looked at her in amazement then tried to ease her backwards.
Nothing to bother yourself with, just a routine call
Theyre talking about ambulances, arent they? Thats Moscow House in the Avenue, right? Jesus! Ask them what the hells going on. Ellie, thats our house. Dont you understand-thats our house!
And as she looked appealingly at her friend, her name, Maciver, was spoken quite distinctly on the radio.
Pascoe switched it off.
Your house? he said.
Its the family house, where I grew up It belongs to us now, the three of us, only Whats going on there? Has this got anything to do with Pal going missing?
Pascoe looked at Ellie, who said, Pals Cresss brother. He didnt turn up for a squash match this evening and no one knows where he is
Pascoe said, Probably some simple explanation. Ellie, Ill have to call by there, check whats going off. Maybe its best if you hang on here till I see how long Im going to be. You can always get a taxi.
He sounded very relaxed about things and it all came over much more convincing than before, but Ellie got the real message. Hed heard something that suggested to him it might be a good idea if she stuck with Cressida for a while longer.
But that wasnt an option.
Cressida said, Im coming with you.
Im afraid thats not possible, said Pascoe firmly. Against regulations, you see
Sod regulations. OK, if you wont take me, Ill drive myself.
Pete, said Ellie urgently. I dont think that would be wise weve drunk quite a bit of wine, and with this mist
Pascoe shook his head and gave her his another-fine-mess-youve-got-me-into look, then said, All right, Cress, get in. But when we get there, you stay inside the car till I check whats happening, OK?
Yeah yeah, anything, said Cressida, tumbling into the back seat.
Fat chance, thought Ellie.
She went back up the steps and closed the door, wondered too late if Cress had her keys with her, thought Thats her problem! and got into the other rear seat.
Cressida was looking at her suspiciously. She might be tipsy and she might be worried but her brain was still working.
She said, So whats happening about your baby-sitter emergency?
Oh hell, thought Ellie. In her experience lies always got you into trouble.
She said, Dont worry, Ill think of something.
Im sure you will, said Cressida.
9
It was almost a dead heat at Moscow House with Pascoes ancient Golf just pipping Sue-Lynns Alfa Romeo Spider, closely followed by Jason Dunns Volvo estate.
PC Jennison had been stationed as custodian of the gate by Sergeant Bonnick with the uncalled-for comment that here at last was a task suited to his excessive girth.
No one gets past, right?
Not even Mr Dalziel, say? said Jennison uneasily. Or the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? his restless imagination added.
No one unofficial, idiot! Do I have to spell it out? Our lot you wave through. Anyone else, you block their passage, which shouldnt be difficult with your gut, then you contact me in the house. And keep a log of names and times in your notebook. You got that?
Yes, Sarge, said Jennison.
So far all that had turned up had been Inspector Ireland, an ambulance and the duty Medical Examiner, plus one of the working girls whose curiosity had been strong enough to keep her from joining the general migration to other beats once the flashing blue lights had signalled the end of trade in the Avenue for the night. When first she appeared, Jennison had experienced a pang of bowel-loosening terror. With long black hair and a face as pale as death, she looked as if shed just stepped out of a Transylvanian tomb. But when she smiled at him without revealing fangs and spoke to him in a friendly and indeed rather flattering way, he quickly relaxed. Any remaining suspicion that she might be one of the Undead faded when his expert gaze took in the substantial and shapely body beneath the short leather dress, a judgment he was able to confirm tactilely when he put his hands on her buttocks and pushed her out of sight behind the gate column when a car approached.
This turned out to be Pascoe. On recognizing the DCI, Jennison stood aside and waved him through, only realizing as the car went by that there were two women in the back.
So what? he thought. Bonkers could hardly blame him if the DCI brought his friends and family along. But even as the disclaimer formed in his mind, the Volvo and the Spider loomed out of the mist and went sweeping by before he could re-interpose his large frame.
He took out his radio, weighed the pros and cons of contacting the sergeant, decided that a plea of misunderstanding was better than a confession of inefficiency, and put it away again.
In his notebook he noted the time, then added, in his old-fashioned round schoolboys hand, Mr Pascoe and party.
OK, Dolores, he said, and watched with a classical appreciation as the young tart slipped like a shy nymph from behind the sheltering column.
Heading up the drive, Pascoe was aware of headlights blooming behind, but thought nothing of it. As some of his civilian acquaintance liked to point out, if you got burgled and wanted a cop while the clues were still hot, it could be twenty-four hours before you saw one; but if you moved beyond the reach of human help by getting yourself killed, then every police vehicle in the county would be rushing to your door.
He saw an ambulance parked before the house alongside an Audi A6 Avant. In the passenger seat of the ambulance a paramedic was carefully puffing cigarette smoke out of his open window. By his side, the driver was talking into his radio mike.
Pascoe read the scene clearly. It wasnt good news. Their disposition meant there was nothing for them here except body recovery. The driver would be talking to his Control, asking for instructions. Which were most likely to be, dont hang around waiting for the cops to tell you theyve finished with the corpse, which could take forever. Get back here, plenty of other work to do.
He applied the handbrake, turned to the women in the rear and said, Stay in the car, please, until Ive checked things out.
Perhaps he should have applied the rear-door child-locks, but locking Ellie in wasnt something a man did lightly. Anyway he couldnt see how this situation could prove more problematic than many others hed dealt with over the years.
He soon found out.
Alongside them the ambulance had started up and begun to move away. Cressida flung her door open and ran after it, beating her fist against its rear doors. An Alfa Spider slewed to a halt across the drive, forcing the ambulance to stop, and another woman half fell out and began shouting at the paramedic through his open window. Behind the Spider, a Volvo estate came to rest rather more sedately. Its male driver emerged with athletic grace, a blond young man, lovely to look at, the perfect type of the Handsome Sailor. He looked ready to join the assault on the emergency vehicle but was called to order by a scream from the rear of his car and, with evident reluctance, turned to assist a pregnant woman out of the back seat.
From the opposite door a tall slim woman slipped out and stood assessing the scene with a calm unblinking gaze. The woman from the Spider was demanding to know who was being taken to hospital and insisting if it was her husband that she should be admitted to ride with him. The paramedic was trying without much success to convince her the vehicle was empty and theyd been called away on another emergency. Cressida was wrestling with the rear door handle. The pregnant woman, magnified by a trick of the headlights and mist so that she could have modelled for Gaea, heavy with Titans, was now advancing with majestic instancy. By her side the Handsome Sailor seemed divided between wanting to guide her ponderous steps and wanting to get to the ambulance, presumably to add his vote to the demand for information. The driver out of frustration leaned on his horn. Sergeant Bonnick, attracted by the noise, appeared in the open doorway of Moscow House. The paramedic, realizing that nothing but proof ocular was going to convince the women that the ambulance was empty, climbed out of the cab and went round to the rear doors. Another set of headlights came swimming up the drive.
Peter, said Ellie, who was standing alongside her husband viewing the activity, I think its time to exercise your authority.
Not to worry, said Pascoe with the calmness of one in no hurry to confront a belligerent drunk, a hysterical wife (widow?), and a woman who looked as if a good sneeze could send her into epeirogenic contractions. When they realize the cupboards bare, theyll settle down.
Wimp, said Ellie.
The paramedic pushed Cressida to one side and pulled open the doors.
Everyone, including the trio from the Volvo, peered inside.
For a moment it looked as if Pascoe was right.
There was a moment of complete and blessed silence.
Then it was broken by the slamming of a car door, presumably belonging to the newly arrived vehicle invisible behind the Volvos dazzling headlights.