Dialogues of the Dead

Despite the Fat Man's promise, most of the short journey to the Centre passed in silence, which Dalziel finally broke by saying accusingly, 'Cat got your tongue?' 'Sorry, sir, I didn't want to disturb you.' Hat had decided that on the whole it wasn't a good idea to enquire farther about Mrs Blossom's tattoo. 'It's not talk as disturbs a good cop, lad, it's lack of it,' said the Fat Man significantly. 'Yes, sir. Is that the second rule, sir?' 'Eh?' 'Of good detective work. You said you would tell me the second on the way.' 'The second is don't take the piss out of anyone big enough to cause you grief,' said Dalziel. 'No, I just thought, you and me being together all cosy like, good chance for you to tell me owt you felt I ought to be told.' Oh shit! thought Hat. Even with poorjax dead, he's still going on about me being the leak! The old sod can't bear not to be right. He's convinced I did it, but he won't be happy rill he hears me say it. I could really pull his plonker here, tell him, Yes, sir, I've got something to say about that info that was leaked to Jax the Ripper. And when he's got himself all ready, sitting there all smug and know-it-all, expecting my confession, I'll let him know the leak was his randy old mucker, George Headingley, whose farewell party he's attending this evening, and what's he going to do about it? And what would he do about it? That was the question. Presumably, once he knew something like that, he couldn't just let it go. There'd have to be a proper investigation and instead of sailing into the sunset, poor old Georgie Porgie would be ... well, he'd