coffee. Join me,' she said.
She led him into her surgery where an electric kettle was jetting steam on to a pile of dental records.
She made their instant coffee swiftly and lay on the patient's couch with Pascoe perched gingerly alongside her on the dentist's stool.
'Are you related to Ellie Pascoe?' she asked.
'In a way,' he said. 'She's my wife. Do you know her?'
'Of her. She sounds interesting. I think we may be friends.'
It was an alliance Pascoe did not much care for the sound of.
'Who's been saying nice things about her?' he wondered.
'My uncle. He says she's an arrogant, loud- mouthed trouble-maker.'
'What?'
'Yes. That's what attracted me.'
'Who is this uncle?' demanded Pascoe hotly.
'Why? Are you going to do the knight-errant bit and thump him? I doubt it. He's Godfrey Blengdale.'
'Oh,' said Pascoe.
'Didn't you know?' she said, smiling up at him sweetly. 'In fact it's Gwen, his wife, that I'm related to. She's my mother's sister. Poor cow. I like her a lot, but she's too stupid to tell Uncle God to go jump. I was there last week when he came home from a meeting that your wife had attended also. That's when he gave her the testimonial. Do you think she'd be interested in WRAG?'
'I doubt if she needs it,' said Pascoe.
'I see,' said Ms Lacewing. 'You make up her mind for her, do you?'
'No,' said Pascoe, suddenly tired of being the second fiddle in someone else's orchestration. 'On the contrary, it's me who lets other people make up my mind. Take this business of Jack Shorter, for instance. You say you're not interested in professional solidarity, so tell me, do you think he did it?'
'What,' she replied, 'is he alleged to have done? Precisely.'
Pascoe was obliged to say he didn't know.
'Then your question's meaningless. ‘Whatever the specifics,' he protested, 'surely the notion of interference is narrow enough in itself to permit an answer.'
'A typically naive masculine point of view,' she said. 'Was she touched? Was he provoked? That's the extent of your thinking, I bet.'
'I'd like more notice of that question,' said Pascoe cautiously. 'But yes, they are important questions.'
'Reverse them. Was he touched? Was she provoked? Have you ever had a case where those questions suggested themselves to you? Suppose a strange woman pinched your bottom in a train, would you feel that a crime had been committed?'
'No. But then the sexual element's not present.'
'How do you know?'
'Well, I don't,' admitted Pascoe. 'But I wouldn't feel sexually assaulted.'
'Suppose she grabbed your privates?'
'It would depend whether the motive was to give me pain or herself pleasure.'
Ms Lacewing laughed.
'For a policeperson,' she said, 'you are not too idiotic.'
'We have mental hygienists. But let's get this straight. You seem to be saying that men are hard done to, that what for a man is a crime, for a woman is nothing at all.'
'Perhaps you are too idiotic,' she said. 'What I'm saying is that whether this poor girl has been interfered with, or imagines she's been interfered with, or wishes she'd been interfered with, or is merely pretending she's been interfered with, a crime's been perpetrated on her mind far graver than any you'll charge Jack Shorter with.'
'Bloody hell,' said Pascoe. 'You know, for a while there I thought we were speaking the same language!'
Before she could answer, Pascoe heard his name bellowed outside.
'It'll have to wait till my next appointment,' he said.
Dalziel was standing by the office door looking as if he'd been waiting for hours. Behind him Pascoe could see Shorter, who looked rather pale and had a couple of pieces of plaster on his forehead.
'There you are,' said Dalziel. 'I'm done here. The doctor's advised Mr Shorter to take things easy for the rest of the day, and I've said the same. I've also advised him in his own interest not to discuss this business with anyone.'
'Except a solicitor,' said Pascoe clearly.
'That's up to him. I don't think Burkill will go running to the
She led him into her surgery where an electric kettle was jetting steam on to a pile of dental records.
She made their instant coffee swiftly and lay on the patient's couch with Pascoe perched gingerly alongside her on the dentist's stool.
'Are you related to Ellie Pascoe?' she asked.
'In a way,' he said. 'She's my wife. Do you know her?'
'Of her. She sounds interesting. I think we may be friends.'
It was an alliance Pascoe did not much care for the sound of.
'Who's been saying nice things about her?' he wondered.
'My uncle. He says she's an arrogant, loud- mouthed trouble-maker.'
'What?'
'Yes. That's what attracted me.'
'Who is this uncle?' demanded Pascoe hotly.
'Why? Are you going to do the knight-errant bit and thump him? I doubt it. He's Godfrey Blengdale.'
'Oh,' said Pascoe.
'Didn't you know?' she said, smiling up at him sweetly. 'In fact it's Gwen, his wife, that I'm related to. She's my mother's sister. Poor cow. I like her a lot, but she's too stupid to tell Uncle God to go jump. I was there last week when he came home from a meeting that your wife had attended also. That's when he gave her the testimonial. Do you think she'd be interested in WRAG?'
'I doubt if she needs it,' said Pascoe.
'I see,' said Ms Lacewing. 'You make up her mind for her, do you?'
'No,' said Pascoe, suddenly tired of being the second fiddle in someone else's orchestration. 'On the contrary, it's me who lets other people make up my mind. Take this business of Jack Shorter, for instance. You say you're not interested in professional solidarity, so tell me, do you think he did it?'
'What,' she replied, 'is he alleged to have done? Precisely.'
Pascoe was obliged to say he didn't know.
'Then your question's meaningless. ‘Whatever the specifics,' he protested, 'surely the notion of interference is narrow enough in itself to permit an answer.'
'A typically naive masculine point of view,' she said. 'Was she touched? Was he provoked? That's the extent of your thinking, I bet.'
'I'd like more notice of that question,' said Pascoe cautiously. 'But yes, they are important questions.'
'Reverse them. Was he touched? Was she provoked? Have you ever had a case where those questions suggested themselves to you? Suppose a strange woman pinched your bottom in a train, would you feel that a crime had been committed?'
'No. But then the sexual element's not present.'
'How do you know?'
'Well, I don't,' admitted Pascoe. 'But I wouldn't feel sexually assaulted.'
'Suppose she grabbed your privates?'
'It would depend whether the motive was to give me pain or herself pleasure.'
Ms Lacewing laughed.
'For a policeperson,' she said, 'you are not too idiotic.'
'We have mental hygienists. But let's get this straight. You seem to be saying that men are hard done to, that what for a man is a crime, for a woman is nothing at all.'
'Perhaps you are too idiotic,' she said. 'What I'm saying is that whether this poor girl has been interfered with, or imagines she's been interfered with, or wishes she'd been interfered with, or is merely pretending she's been interfered with, a crime's been perpetrated on her mind far graver than any you'll charge Jack Shorter with.'
'Bloody hell,' said Pascoe. 'You know, for a while there I thought we were speaking the same language!'
Before she could answer, Pascoe heard his name bellowed outside.
'It'll have to wait till my next appointment,' he said.
Dalziel was standing by the office door looking as if he'd been waiting for hours. Behind him Pascoe could see Shorter, who looked rather pale and had a couple of pieces of plaster on his forehead.
'There you are,' said Dalziel. 'I'm done here. The doctor's advised Mr Shorter to take things easy for the rest of the day, and I've said the same. I've also advised him in his own interest not to discuss this business with anyone.'
'Except a solicitor,' said Pascoe clearly.
'That's up to him. I don't think Burkill will go running to the
Similar Books
