Dialogues of the Dead

339 Pascoe gave him an encouraging smile, Wield remained as unreadable as ever, and Dalziel said, 'What's your point, lad; 'It's just the association, sir ... I thought it might be significant.. .' 'Oh aye? I suppose if Stuffer Steel were a film buff, which he weren't, and if he were an old Unthinkable, which he weren't, and if he knew Dee's real first name, which I doubt, then it might come in sniffing distance of significant. Don't cry, lad. At least you're trying. What about you two big strong silent types? Wieldy?' 'This thing about the dead boy sounds a bit odd, but I don't see that it adds up to much,' said the sergeant. 'More than just a bit odd, wouldn't you say?' said Pascoe. 'Mebbe. But it's not something Dee and Penn try to keep hidden, is it? Photo's on display, name on the tile rack which anyone can see. It's what folk want to hide that usually means most. And it seems to me we're getting bogged down in words here, not real stuff.' 'The Wordman is all about words, Wieldy,' said Pascoe gently. 'Aye, but about words playing around inside him. Seems to me Dee and Penn in their different ways let their words out, don't trap them inside where they might fester.' Dalziel, in face of this unexpected psycho-linguistic analysis, let out an et to Brute sigh and turned to Pascoe. 'Pete, you think we might be on to something here, do you? Makes a change not to hear you badmouthing Franny Roote, who I hear is like to turn out the next Enid Biyton. But it 'ud be nice to know what's really going on in that mazy mind of thine.' 'I don't know .. . it's just that I can't believe that in Dee's case all these coincidences of place and time and opportunity and interest don't add up to something significant.' 'So let's talk to him again. Not you, but. If he is the Wordman, he's a clever bugger with it and he'll have got you sussed by now. You talk to Charley Penn, see if you can shake him on this lads'-night-in alibi. Me, I'll see how Mr Dee reacts to a bit of basic English. Bowler, you come with me.' The, sir?' said Hat unenthusiastically. 'Aye. Any objection? From what I've heard you spend more time round at that library than you do here, so why so shy all of a sudden?' Then the Fat Man let out a derisive laugh. 'Got it. Your bit of stuff, Miss Ribena, thinks a lot of her boss and you're scared it might queer your pitch if she catches you holding him down while I stamp on his goolies! Test of character, lad. She's going to have to choose between you and him some time, might as well force the issue afore you buy the ring. Now let's get some forward progress on this case, right? We've been running across the pitch far too long, lots of fancy footwork but no territorial gain. If this bugger wants to play games with us, let's at least start playing in his half of the field!' Such a rallying cry, probably even more forcibly expressed, might have had some effect on a bunch of muddied oafs playing rugger, thought Pascoe. But none of those present in the CID room seemed fired by it. He said, 'Chief complaining about lack of progress, was he, sir?' 'He knows better,' said Dalziel. 'Though it's evident Loopy Linda's still banging heads in the Home Office. But Desperate Dan's got things closer to home to worry about.' 'Like what?' Dalziel glanced towards the doorway where Hat and Wield stood in deep confabulation. 'Like who's going to make the presentation at George's farewell tonight, me or him.' 'I should have thought, in the circs, it's got to be top man there,' said Pascoe, surprised. 'Much as George loves you, I think he'll be expecting Mr Trimble's honeyed words and firm handshake to accompany the clock or whatever it is we're giving him.' 'Fishing tackle, they tell me,' said Dalziel. 'Well, we'll see.' Wield and Bowler had stopped talking and were looking to Dalziel expectantly. Pascoe had a sense of something unsaid, but if he were right, it was going to stop unsaid, for the time being anyway. 'Can't hang around here all day,' declared the Fat Man. 'Not when there's goolies to stamp on. Come on, lad. We're off to the

341 library. Where I hope you'll remember the first two rules of good detection.' 'What're they, sir?' said Bowler. 'First's no groping on the job!' chortled Dalziel. 'I'll tell thee the second on the way.' Chapter Thirty-nine