Reginald Hill - Recalled to Life

Before I count three. One… two… three… Shit, thought Dalziel. The telephone rang.

'It has been kept from her, and I hope will always be kept from her. It is known only to myself and to one other who may be trusted.' It was Marilou Bellmain who picked up the receiver. 'Hello?

Look, can you…?' Whoever was ringing clearly couldn't. Beaten back by a superior weight of words, she fell silent, listened, then said to her husband, 'It's Scott Rampling. He says it's imperative he talks with you.' 'In that case…' said Westropp. He took the phone, looked apologetically around as though a pleasant pre-prandial drink had been interrupted, and said, 'Would you mind…?' Waggs looked as if he would very much. Pip too, but Dalziel made for the door, saying, 'OK by me, squire. I'm busting for a pee anyway.

Upstairs, is it, luv?' Without waiting for Marilou's answer, he went out into the hallway and ran lightly up the stairs. The first room he looked in was the toilet. He went on to the next door. A bedroom. By the bed, a telephone. Carefully he picked it up, put his hand over the mouthpiece and pressed the receiver to his ear. A moment passed, then Westropp said, 'All right, Scott. What is it?' 'I gather you've got company,' said Rampling's voice. 'They still there?' 'My guests have kindly stepped outside for a moment,' said Westropp. 'How can I help you, Scott?' 'I want to know what's going on? You know the Kohler woman kept a diary? In code in a Bible, for God's sake! Well, I've got it and it makes interesting reading. She thinks she's been protecting you.' 'So?' 'So nothing. So it's not like they said. So I got to thinking: What is it like?' Westropp said gently, 'Scott, these are old, unhappy far-off things and battles long ago. My advice is, let them rest.' ‘I tried,' protested Rampling. 'I've had my people on it.'

'That girl, you mean?' Westropp laughed. 'Oh Scott, you always wanted things all ways. I can just imagine it. Sempernel or someone like him warning you that trouble was on its way and asking you to clean it up.

You saying, sure thing, but thinking maybe if it's something they want cleared up, it might be interesting to let it run and see what it's all about. Getting poor Mr Dalziel to do your dirty work for you! Oh Scott, you're so devious, you sometimes fool yourself.' 'Dying's making you real sassy, James. I'm in your town at the moment to make some slant-eyed sonofabitch think he's important enough to need protection. I'll call by later to find out what's really been happening. Meanwhile, my advice is, get those people out of there. Guy in your condition shouldn't be entertaining visitors.' 'Your solicitude is almost unbearable,' said Westropp. 'Do try to keep calm, there's a good chap. As the French aristo said on his way to the guillotine, this is no time to be losing your head. Sorry. I realize in your case the image is rather crass, but you know what I mean. A bientot!' He put the phone down. In the bedroom Dalziel replaced his almost simultaneously, went out of the bedroom into the bathroom, pulled the flush and ran lightly down the stairs. The others were standing around like job applicants waiting for one of them to be called back into the interview room. Waggs caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. He at least suspected a non-urinary motive. Dalziel said, 'That's better out than in.' 'Truth, you mean?' 'I'd not bet your pension on it. A word in your ear?' He glanced around. Marilou was standing close to the sitting-room door, staring hard at it as if hoping to penetrate the woodwork by will alone. Philip stood by her, his young face pale and anxious. Cissy Kohler had lit a cigarette and was leaning against the wall, face blank, eyes unblinking, even the smoke from her narrow cigarette hanging still in the air before her.

Dalziel took Waggs's arm and pushed him through a door into the kitchen. 'So where's all this taking us?' he asked. 'That's an odd question for a cop.' 'Oh aye? Why's that?' 'I thought you guys just went along with the facts.' 'There's facts and facts,' said Dalziel.

'How so? I thought a fact was a fact was a fact.' 'Sometimes they're like bits of china. You piece them together and you've got a bowl that'll hold water. Other times they're like bits of chocolate. You chew 'em up, and all you've got is shit.' 'Jee-suss! You know what, Dalziel? Inside you, there's a poet trying to get out. In fact, from the size of you, I'd say a whole anthology. Jee-suss!' The second divine invocation was at suddenly finding himself translated to a higher sphere, which was to say, the top of the electric stove.

Dalziel said, 'I ought to turn this thing on and see if I can boil some sense into you. You want to know if he killed your mother? What good'll that do you? All you do is give Philip a murderer for a father and Marilou a murderer for a husband.'

'And Cissy?' cried Waggs, who didn't lack courage. 'Don't I give her something too? Something she deserves? Listen, she's lost a life because of all this. Nothing that can happen to any of the rest of us can come close to that. She wants to see the guy she gave that life up for before he dies. She wants to hear something from him that might help her think it was even just a fraction worthwhile. She deserves that chance, doesn't she?'

'Why?' said Dalziel. 'She's got three deaths on her hands. In my book, that's at least two too many for second chances. Did they all three deserve to die? Your mother? That little lass? Daphne Bush? So what's that leave her deserving except what she got?'

But he didn't sound all that convincing, not even to himself.

He turned and went back into the hallway. The others were still there. He went towards the sitting-room door, but Marilou Bellmain barred his way.

'He will call us back in when he's finished his phone call,' she said.

'Missus, he finished long since,' said Dalziel, easing her aside.

Philip looked for a moment as if he might get chivalrous, but Dalziel gave him a look that would have stopped a horse, let alone a knight, and opened the door.

Westropp lay back in his rocker, his eyes closed, looking more like something the Egyptologists had just peeled the bandage off than a living being.

Marilou went to him and took his hands. Now the eyes opened like a lizard's on a rock. 'There you all are,' he said. 'I'm sorry, but I don't think I can go on with this just now. Another time, perhaps.

Yes, another time would be nice. But before you go, an apology.

Hopelessly inadequate, but what else can I offer? To you, Pip. To you, John. It was an accident, believe me. I may have sometimes wished your mother harm, but I never purposed it. And to you. Cissy, what can I say? Except that the events of that dreadful weekend, especially Emily's death, deprived me of the power of rational thought and action just as they must have deprived you, otherwise how could either of us have stood aside and let poor dear Mick die? I'm sorry for all the..

. misunderstanding. Aren't words inadequate, particularly when you've had a classical education? Now if you don't mind, I'd like a little time with Marilou.' Cissy Kohler was drawing in huge breaths as if air was going to be rationed. 'Is this it?' she managed to gulp out. ‘Is this all I get?' 'It's all there is,' said Westropp. 'Sometimes it is better to travel hopelessly than arrive. I know that too, believe me.'

She took a step towards him, fumbling with the clasp of her handbag.

Dalziel caught her in his arms, spun her round and pushed her through the doorway. Screened by his own bulk from the others, he dipped his hand into her bag, took out the small revolver he found there and slipped it into his left-hand pocket. He turned and called, 'Mrs Bellmain.' Marilou looked towards him impatiently and he said, 'Cissy's not too well.' It was the first time he had brought himself to call her Cissy. Marilou looked unhappily from Jay Waggs to her husband, who said, 'I'll be all right, dear. Don't be long.' She went out into the hall and Dalziel re-entered the room. Waggs took a step towards the man in the rocking-chair but there was no menace in the move. Rather he seemed to want a closer look. He said, 'I've been around the entertainment industry too long not to recognize the smell of bullshit.' 'You say so?' said Westropp. 'John, believe me, when I say I'm sorry…' 'Yeah, yeah, I gotta see that Cissy's OK. But this isn't the end, stepdaddy. There's a lot of mileage in this yet.'