Dialogues of the Dead

281 'Next time it won't be your ankle I kick. Let's have the truth.' 'It's nowt really ... just a notion I got about Charley Penn. He said he were out here visiting his mam last Sunday afternoon when Johnson got topped. Young Bowler checked her out and she seemed to say that Charley were never away. Just thought when I bumped into her that I'd have a little chat, double check. No harm in that, is there?' She considered then said, 'Bollocks again. I don't think you bumped into her because you came to the ball, you came to the ball so that you could bump into her. And that was because you reckoned that with her background when Frau Penck found herself being questioned by the police about her son, she probably clammed up tighter than a virgin's valve. On the other hand, talking to an old chum of Budgie^s who's escorted the colonel's mama to the regimental ball, she could let all her resentment at being neglected by her Anglophile son hang out.' 'Virgin's valve? Don't know where you pick these expressions up from,' said Dalziel reprovingly. 'Sod the expression. What I've said is the truth. Admit it or I'll push that Sahnetorte into your face.' Dalziel looked down at the huge portion of the cream cake he'd just helped himself to and said, 'Funny, but that's just what I were going to do. Nay, hold on there, I'm admitting, I'm admitting. OK, it mebbe helped dp the balance, but I'm bloody glad it did. I'd not have missed this for the world. I'm having the best rime of my life.' 'That's as maybe, but you've used me, Andy.' 'Well,' he said judiciously through a mawful of whipped cream, 'you've never complained before. Any road, it's nearly the sabbath. Good day for forgiving is the sabbath.' 'Oh, I forgive, but I won't forget. You owe me one, Andy Dalziel.' 'Don't worry, luv,' he said. 'Afore the night's out, I intend giving thee one. Hey, listen, they're playing a tango. Let's go and show these tin soldiers how to do it!'

And as Dalziel escorted his lady on to the dance floor, Peter Pascoe escorted Franny Roote out of the police station. 'Let me say again how sorry I am about this misunderstanding, Mr Roote,' he said. 'A simple breakdown in communication, I'm afraid.' 'That's what lies at the root of most human problems, isn't it, Mr Pascoe?' said the man earnestly. 'A simple breakdown in communication. If only words always did what we want them to. Goodnight.' He climbed into the police car provided to take him back to his flat, smiled up at Pascoe through the window and gave a little wave as the vehicle moved off into the darkness. Pascoe watched it go. 'I think words always do exactly what you want them to do, Franny, my boy,' he murmured. 'The root of most human problems. Oh yes, that fits you to a tee. But I shall pull you up out of the earth before I'm finished and consign you to the bonfire like any other noxious weed. I shall. I shall. Believe me, I shall!' He went to his own car, climbed in, and drove home.

283 Chapter Thirty-one