Reginald Hill: The Death of Dalziel: A Dalziel and Pascoe Novel

A Dalziel and Pascoe novel

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Harper

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain

by HarperCollinsPublishers 2007

Copyright © Reginald Hill 2007

Reginald Hill asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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Source ISBN: 9780007313228

Ebook Edition © JULY 2015 ISBN: 9780007353590

Version: 2015-06-25

For the peacemakerswhichever god’s children they are

What, old acquaintance? Could not all this flesh Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell…Death hath not struck so fat a deer today.

Shakespeare Henry IV Part 1, Act V scene iv

A Knight of the Temple who kills an evil man should not be condemned for killing the man but praised for killing the evil.

St Bernard of Clairvaux,

Liber ad milites Templi

Cover Page

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Part One

1 mill street

2 two mutton pasties and an almond slice

3 intimations

4 dust and ashes

5 the two Geoffreys

6 blue smartie

7 dancing with death

8 blame

Part Two

1 a tidy desk

2 show business

3 walking the dog

4 dead men don’t fart!

5 age of wonders

Part Three

1 Lubyanka

2 a pale horse

3 kaffee-klatsch

4 burglary

5 all the way home

6 an urban fox

7 Sauron’s eye

8 now it’s safe

Part Four

1 the shock of recognition

2 Rule Five

3 Hectoring

4 Troy

5 fiddle-de-dee

6 Kilda

7 in the mood

8 without fear or favour

9 the decisive moment

10 queen of the fête

11 forgotten dreams

12 the man of my dreams

13 no change

14 the tangle o’ the Isles

15 a shot in the dark

16 the word of an Englishman

Part Five

1 a free lunch

2 promotion

3 melodious twang

4 red mite and greenfly

5 no-name

6 wake-up call

7 safe house

8 to the castle

9 armour

10 mother love

11 a change of direction

12 prison

13 girls and boys

14 a wee deoch an doris

15 a call in the night

16 the full English

17 one last decision

Part Six

1 the very worst

2 wheel of fire

3 singles

4 snapshots

5 wedding gifts

6 hi-yo, Silver!

7 gatecrashers

8 it is written

Part Seven

1 the end

2 really the end

Keep Reading

About Reginald Hill

Acclaim for The Death of Dalziel

By Reginald Hill

About the Publisher

Some talk of ALEXANDERAnd some of HERCULES;Of HECTOR…

Anon, ‘The British Grenadiers’

never much of a street

west—the old wool mill a prison block in dry blood brick its staring windows now blinded by boards its clatter and chatter a distant echo through white haired heads

east—six narrow houses under one weary roof huddling against the high embankment that arrows southern trains into the city’s northern heart

few passengers ever notice Mill Street

never much of a street

in winter’s depth a cold crevassespring and autumn much the same

but occasionallyon a still summer day

with sun soaring high in a cloudless skyMill Street becomesdesert canyon overbrimming with heat

At least it gives me an excuse for sweating, thought Peter Pascoe as he scuttled towards the shelter of the first of the two cars parked across the road from Number 3.

‘You hurt your back?’ asked Detective Superintendent Andy Dalziel as his DCI slumped to the pavement beside him.

‘Sorry?’ panted Pascoe.

‘You were moving funny.’

‘I was taking precautions.’

‘Oh aye? I’d stick to the tablets. What the hell are you doing here anyway? Bank Holiday’s been cancelled, has it? Or are you just bunking off from weeding the garden?’

‘In fact I was sunbathing in it. Then Paddy Ireland rang and said there was a siege situation and you were a bit short on specialist manpower so could I help.’

‘Specialist? Didn’t know you were a marksman.’

Pascoe took a deep breath and wondered what kind of grinning God defied His own laws by allowing Dalziel’s fleshy folds, swaddled in a three-piece suit, to look so cool, while his own spare frame, clad in cotton jeans and a Leeds United T-shirt, was generating more heat than PM’s Question Time.

‘I’ve been on a Negotiator’s Course, remember?’ he said.

‘Thought that were to help you talk to Ellie. What did yon fusspot really say?’

The Fat Man was no great fan of Inspector Ireland, who he averred put the three effs in officious. If you took your cue and pointed out that the word only contained two, he’d tell you what the third one stood for.

If you didn’t take your cue, he usually told you anyway.

Pascoe on the other hand was a master of diplomatic reticence.

‘Not a lot,’ he said.

What Ireland had actually said was, ‘Sorry to interrupt your day off, Pete, but I thought you should know. Report of an armed man on premises in Mill Street. Number 3.’

Then a pause as if anticipating a response.

The only response Pascoe felt like giving was, Why the hell have I been dragged off my hammock for this?

He said, ‘Paddy, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m off duty today. Bank Holiday, remember? And Andy drew the short straw. Not his idea you rang, is it?’

‘Definitely not. It’s just that Number 3’s a video rental, Oroc Video, Asian and Arab stuff mainly…’

A faint bell began to ring in Pascoe’s mind.

‘Hang on. Isn’t it CAT flagged?’

‘Hooray. There is someone in CID who actually reads directives,’ said Ireland with heavy sarcasm.

CAT was the Combined Anti-Terrorism unit in which Special Branch officers worked alongside MI5 operatives. They flagged people and places on a sliding scale, the lowest level being premises not meriting formal surveillance but around which any unusual activity should be noted and notified.