But before she could nerve herself to put this to the test, she had discovered by distant observation that if the group consisted of the Trinity alone, it was usually Wield who did the fetching and carrying, while if the three became a pair, it was Pascoe.
So now right reason asked, if a male sergeant and a male chief inspector could accept this as the natural order of things, was it reasonable for a female constable to cry discrimination?
Or, to put it another way, what should a woman do who fought for equal treatment and then found that the equal treatment she fought for was in fact unequal?
These were the speculations thronging her mind as she returned from the bar at eleven o’clock on the morning after the attempted kidnapping of Ellie Pascoe, bearing a tray loaded with a pint of best, a half of the same, a fizzy mineral water and a Coke.
Pascoe’s request for the mineral water had emboldened her to buy the Coke.
They were in the Black Bull to discuss possible ramifications of yesterday’s events. The chief inspector had arrived late at the station, having spent the morning ensuring that his house and Edengrove School were being watched over to his satisfaction. He looked worn out, and it was this wanness which the Fat Man had used as an excuse to retire instantly to the pub where, he averred, he had his best thoughts, and they would be free from interruption. Novello’s inclusion had had all the appearance of a throwaway afterthought, coming as Dalziel led the trio out of the CID room. But Novello had long since concluded that most of the Fat Man’s apparent afterthoughts were carefully planned. The wise thing was to be neither flattered by his attention nor offended by the lack of it.
She placed the tray on the table, noting with some satisfaction that she’d managed to slop a little beer over Dalziel’s change (the seriousness of the occasion was marked by the fact that Dalziel had actually bought a round), and then put all personal and philosophical considerations out of her mind to focus on the debate in progress.
The on-the-table theory was that the attempted abduction had something to do with Pascoe’s work.
‘Wieldy, you were trawling that mind of thine for folk Pete’s put away who were nutty enough to take it personally.’
Dalziel’s natural Luddism was expressed in his boast, ‘Who needs great ugly lumps of hi-tech equipment cluttering the place when we’ve got Wieldy who’s twice as efficient and three times as ugly?’ but Novello had noticed that the sergeant’s computer skills were state of the art.
Whatever its source, the list of perps who’d gone down threatening the DCI with personal injury was impressively long. For a nice quiet guy, Pascoe seemed to have got up a lot of criminal noses.
But Wield’s conclusion was that in most cases the threats had just been empty, if over-heated, air.
‘You need a special kind of twist to nurse a grievance and plan revenge,’ said Wield.
‘Is that right, Sigmund?’ said Dalziel. ‘So what you’re saying is, you’ve dug deep and ended up with nowt but an empty hole?’
‘No,’ said Wield. ‘In fact, I struck a root. Franny Roote.’
Dalziel looked blank for a moment, then let his jaw drop in the mock-amazement he had taken to affecting if Wield essayed a joke.
‘You mean that weird student at yon college? My memory serves me right, we couldn’t do him for owt but being an accessory.’
‘That’s right,’ said Wield. ‘But after listening to what had gone on there, the judge ordered a psycho-evaluation before sentencing. And after getting an earful of that, he decided best place for Roote was a secure hospital. To start with the lad refused all treatment, and during this period he seems to have fixed on the DCI, or sergeant as he was then, as the man responsible for putting him there. He seemed to think you had something personal against him.’
‘I know it’s silly, but I do tend to feel strongly about people who try to kill me,’ said Pascoe. ‘I recall I got a weird letter from him while he was waiting trial. I passed it on to the court, so in a way he was right about me helping to get him certified. But there’s been nothing since. I haven’t thought about him for years.’
‘Doesn’t mean he’s not been thinking about you,’ said Dalziel. ‘Wieldy, I take it there’s summat else.’
‘Only that he finally accepted the treatment and settled down to being a model patient-cum-prisoner. Did an OU degree in English Literature, and went on to start a research course for a Ph.D. or some such thing. Finally he convinced them he wasn’t a menace to society any more and got himself discharged. Last month.’
There was a moment’s silence, then the Fat Man said, ‘That it?’
‘Except…’
‘What?’
‘He’d know Ellie, she was teaching at the college then, wasn’t she? When you met her.’
Pascoe nodded.
‘So?’ said Dalziel.
‘Nothing. Just a connection,’ said Wield. ‘Also, probably means nowt, but this research he’s doing. His topic is, I made a note of it, aye, here it is… Revenge and Retribution in English Drama.’
Another silence, then Dalziel said, ‘Beats sewing mailbags and breaking rocks, I suppose. Got an address?’
‘Aye. Sheffield.’
‘Not so far, then. Set up liaison with South Yorkshire, then pop down there in the morning and check him out.’
‘Can’t do it tomorrow, sir. Day off.’
‘Oh aye? And what are you doing that’s more important than finding out who’s threatening your colleague’s family, Sergeant?’ demanded Dalziel in that tone of high moral dudgeon he saved for underlings who dared suggest they had a private life.
Wield glanced at Pascoe, who said, ‘Actually, Wieldy is very kindly entertaining that same colleague’s family. He’s invited Ellie and Rosie out to Enscombe to look round the Children’s Zoo at the Hall.’
‘Oh,’ said Dalziel, slightly flummoxed. ‘Right. That’s fine. Only don’t try putting it down as overtime. Best go to check Roote out yourself then, Pete. If you feel up to it.’
‘It’ll be a pleasure,’ said Pascoe. ‘I’m in court with Kelly Cornelius at twelve, but that should give me plenty of time.’
Shirley Novello listened and learned. These three had a pretty cosy relationship, she thought. Though perhaps cosy was not a word that fitted well on anything to do with Andy Dalziel. But they meshed easily together, like well-oiled cog wheels. It was a piece of machinery she’d like to get herself linked up with, but she recognized the dangers in trying to poke yourself too brutally among moving cogs.
She’d noted with interest the reference to Ellie Pascoe’s job way back in the dark ages when they’d met. A college lecturer. Queen of the kids in never-never land. That figured.
‘Right,’ said Dalziel. ‘That’s revenge took care of. Let’s move on. Cases in progress where your involvement in the prosecution could make it seem worthwhile to some no-brain wanker to get you by the goolies. How’s that look?’
Pascoe winced at the language, then sent an irritatingly apologetic glance to Novello, who winced, less obviously, in her turn. Hadn’t marriage to the Nutcracker Fairy taught him anything ?
Wield shrugged and said, ‘Nothing obvious. Any road, I’d have thought they saved threats for civilians. Cops they’d offer a bung.’
‘Yeah, you and me, mebbe, Wieldy. But every sod knows fancy pants here’s incorruptible. So, tell us, Mother Teresa, is there owt you’re working on that gives you that funny feeling you’re famous for?’
Pascoe, with more than his customary diffidence, said, ‘Well, it is just a feeling, but for some reason I keep on thinking Kelly Cornelius.’
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