Did he think he was unique? Dr Pottle his tame shrink, had asked him. Or did he believe that everyone felt like this?
Neither, he replied. Im sure many people dont feel like this, but Im equally sure Im not unique.
Bang goes religion and politics, said Pottle. It could be youre in the right job, after all.
But it didnt feel like it. Curious how, as Ellie seemed (outwardly at least) increasingly resigned to the ambiguities of his work, he himself (inwardly at least) was finding them more and more troublesome.
A lost child. A dead child, that was how Dalziel saw it, he could tell. He felt the agony of her parents. And through his climb to the rim of the Neb, and his reading of the Dendale file, he felt the agony of all those other parents whod seen their children go out and never saw them return.
But his empathy didnt make him want to toil tirelessly at the task of catching this man, this monster, who was responsible for these disappearings. No, all he wanted was to go home and stay home and hold eternal vigil over his own child. The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Cultivate your own garden. There is no such thing as society.
Which, he told himself sternly, was like rubbing away the solid stonework and leaving the red letters dancing in the empty air.
His introspective musings had got him through Danby on autopilot and he found he was outside St Michaels Hall. Near the main door was an empty parking space marked DCI. He smiled. As anticipated, Wield had things under control.
Inside he found a scene of well-ordered activity. The detective sergeant, regimental in front of the troops, stood up and said, Good morning, sir.
Morning, said Pascoe, thinking that probably even machines in a factory ran more smoothly when Wieldy showed his face. Not that his face was smooth. In fact it was possible to theorize that his penchant for organization was a reaction to having features that looked like creation a parsec after the Big Bang.
Nice to see a hive of industry, he went on. Got everything we need?
Except the fridge, and thats coming, said Wield.
Fridge? You expecting samples?
For cold drinks, said the sergeant. I can do you a coffee, but. And theres a note for you from Nobby Clark. I saw him when I arrived. He were very insistent I gave it to you direct. Think youve made a conquest there.
This was said with a straight face, or in Wields case a crooked one, which in terms of inscrutability came to the same thing. But it also came as close to a bit of gay badinage as Pascoe had ever detected in the sergeant.
He opened the envelope. It contained a piece of paper bearing the name JED HARDCASTLE.
That it? said Pascoe. No message?
He said something about paint, said Wield, handing over a mug of coffee. I got the feeling he wanted to give you something you could pull out of your hat.
God save me from the gratitude of the simple-hearted, said Pascoe. What am I expected to do? Tell Andy Ive worked out the graffiti artist is called Jed Hardcastle, only I dont know who he is or where he lives or anything about him?
Son of Cedric and Molly Hardcastle, said Wield. Brother of Jenny, first lass to go missing in Dendale. Present address, Stirps End Farm, Danby.
Oh, that Jed Hardcastle, said Pascoe with slight irritation, mainly at himself for not having made the link even though hed just read the Dendale file a couple of hours earlier. God, his mind was really refusing to engage with the facts.
He sipped his coffee and said, So, another link with last time.
Last time?
Dendale.
Oh aye. Thats official is it? Dendale was last time?
The Fat Man seems to think so. Hes had me reading the file. He even marched me up to the top of the Corpse Road last night.
Did he now? That sounds pretty official.
You dont sound like it makes you happy.
I think its a bit soon to be talking of this time and last time, thats all.
What about this fellow Lightfoot? insisted Pascoe. You must have met him. What did you reckon? I gather some folk thought he was the village idiot, but Ive heard that in fact he was pretty bright.
Oh, he was bright enough, said Wield. But there was something about him. Like he came from another world.
This was untypically imprecise for the sergeant.
Pascoe said, What do you mean, other world? Heaven? Hell? Jupiter? Wales?
Not as far removed as that, said Wield. No, his other world was Dendale.
I dont get you, said Pascoe. OK, thats where he lived, and I know that he was so upset when his mother decided to emigrate that he ran off to his grans. But lots of people like where they are so much it would take dynamite to shift them.
It did take dynamite to shift them out of Dendale, remember? said Wield. OK, for most of them, it was an uprooting, but the roots would take again in similar soil. The majority of them resettled over here around Danby and from all accounts theyve settled in very well. But the odd one well, since Ive been living in Enscombe, Ive got a different perspective on how folk relate to the place they call home. Theres none of us there would want to leave. I feel like that and Ive not been living there long enough to shit my own weight, as they say. But Ive met some people, like the Tokes you recall the Tokes? that I reckon you couldnt uproot, only break off at ground level.
The Tokes were a mother and son living in Enscombe whod figured in the case which brought Wield and Edwin Digweed together.
Yes, I remember the Tokes, said Pascoe. Lightfoot was like that?
To some extent. You know how folk say, I belong to such a place. Just a figure of speech usually, but with Lightfoot, like with Toke, it really means what it says. The place owns them. For better or worse. For good or evil.
Hold on, Wieldy, said Pascoe. Youre stealing my lines. Im the one who goes all metaphysical, right? Youre Mr Microchip, the man with the pointy ears.
Wield scratched one of the organs which, though certainly irregular, were hardly pointed.
Just goes to show what country life can do to you, doesnt it? he said.
Like Shirley Novello earlier, Pascoe found it hard to tell if the sergeant was altogether joking, but he laughed anyway. There were enough uncertainties in life without admitting the possibility that your Rock of Ages might after all turn out to be soft-centred.
He said, But I agree with you about sticking to this time. Lets work with what weve got. There were some car sightings unaccounted for
Ive got Novello working on them, said Wield. In fact, this came through for her a couple of minutes ago. Presumably its to do with the sightings, but shes not around to tell me what.
Yes, she is, said Pascoe, whod just seen Novello come through the door. He glanced at the sheet of paper Wield had handed him as she approached. It was a list of green Land Rover Discoverys registered locally in the past year.
Morning, Shirley, he said.
Dalziel called her Ivor. Pascoe had made sure no one else did. Eccentric leaders were for following not imitating, else the Victory would have been full of one-eyed sailors.
Morning, sir, she said, looking a touch anxiously at the list in his hand. Pascoe guessed shed have liked to get to it before Wield so she could have presented it with her interpretation all ready. Like Clark, she was still at the stage where she thought rabbits plucked from hats impressed the brass. Unlike Clark, shed probably grow out of it. Her face, while not conventionally good-looking, was full of character and intelligence. Shed settled down well since joining the department a few months back, but she was still on guard. Perhaps that was a permanent condition of service for women in the police force, thought Pascoe. Or was that too easy? Was there something more he could be doing to assure her that here in Mid-Yorkshire at least there wasnt anyone lurking in the shadows, waiting for the chance to chop her off at the knees?
So youre making progress, he said, handing her the list.
Glancing at it as she spoke, she explained how she had got the information, then went on to the Saab cabriolet, and finally to the moving car on the Highcross Moor road.
She led them to the wall map to illustrate her findings here.
Geoff Draycott, thirty-two, married, tenant at Wornock Farm, thats here. He was out in this field, here, about half eight, quarter to nine, when he saw this car heading up the road away from town. It was moving very fast, which was what drew his attention. Mind you, he seems to think everything that uses that road moves too fast. It seems its been improved considerably in the last ten years as the Science and Business Park developed and a lot of the people there began to use it as a quick way of heading north to join up with the arterial here, instead of heading south and east. But improvement hasnt extended to fencing, and Draycott reckons he loses a couple of sheep a year because of speeding cars and lorries.
Must have been pretty powerful if it was speeding, said Wield, looking at the contours.
He says it was a big estate, blue, but he couldnt identify the make and was at the wrong angle to get any numbers. He did say he thought that it might have stopped up here.
She pointed to a high bend of the road marked on the map with the viewpoint symbol.
Theres a bit of hardstanding. Its a popular place for picnics. He caught the flash of sun on a glass up there just a little later, but he cant be sure it was the same car.
Bit early for a picnic, said Wield. Owt else?
Not on any of these. But when I caught up with Draycott, he was driving a red Ford pick-up. Popular vehicle with farmers, I spotted another three as I drove around. And I got to wondering if some of the folk round here who got asked about car sightings mightnt have bothered to mention these, or other farm vehicles, because theyre so familiar theyre almost invisible. Like the postman in the Chesterton story.
One for me? thought Pascoe, amused. He hoped she was bright enough not to have tried it out on Andy Dalziel, whose response would probably have been
Postman? On a Sunday? Now that is odd.
They turned. There he was. Sometimes he came roaring in like a steam locomotive, sometimes he rolled up, soft as a hearse, which, today, clad in a suit black enough to please an undertaker and a shirt white enough to make a shroud, he might have been following.