couple of thousand would get the contractors back in twenty-four hours. There's no question of long-term difficulty. Any finance house would be keen to advance money once they saw the state of the project. It's just a matter of time.'
'Oh. If that's all . . . well, I'm glad to hear it,' said Dalziel. 'I must have mistaken Mrs Fielding. Would anyone mind if I fried myself an egg?'
He didn't wait for an answer but set about the business with the expertise of a man long used to living alone. There was some bacon in the fridge, nice thick-cut rashers which looked as if the pig had seen the light of day in the recent past. He kept his mind off the contents of the foil wrapped package which he had found here yesterday.
'Anyone else?' he called.
‘I’ll try one,' Louisa said, joining him at the stove. 'I can't cook for toffee.'
'I bet your mam can,' said Dalziel.
'When she wants,' said the girl. She lowered her voice. 'Don't take any notice of Bertie. He thinks all big businessmen talk like that.'
'Tell lies, you mean?' said Dalziel, cracking another egg one-handed and draining it through his fingers into the pan.
'Don't worry, love,' he went on. 'I know you can't even refund the Bowls Club their money. God knows what else I don't know about! No. If I was a finance house, I wouldn't lend you your bus-fare home.'
'Up you, then,' said Louisa angrily.
'But I am not a finance house. You know what? I'm going to have mine in a sandwich. It can be messy, but what's life without risks?'
There was no need for him to be talking like this. The first hint that he might be interested in the project had been justifiable. Even then you had to pretend there was some kind of case and he was investigating it. But this was just economic prick-teasing. He tried to retrieve his position.
‘If a couple of thousand's all that's needed. I can't see your problem,' he said, carefully organizing his montage of egg and bacon on a slice of thick-cut bread. 'Your grandfather's got this Gumboot thing coming; how much? Fifteen thousand dollars? Won't he chip in?'
'Not bloody likely,' said Louisa, eating her egg more conventionally, albeit straight from the pan. 'He's been against the project right from the start. He's got a little bit of money from his writing, enough to pay his way in the house, and there's not much he can do with the Gumbelow money at his age. But he'd rather flush it down the loo than let Bertie get his hands on it. That's how he sees the business, you see. Always has. Bertie's balls-up. They don't get on, you may have noticed. And now Herrie thinks Conrad would still be alive if it weren't for the business.'
‘Is that right?' said Dalziel.
'So any knight in shining armour willing to take a small risk for a short time would be gratefully received and bounteously recompensed.'
She looked seriously at him and ran her tongue along the prongs of her fork.
‘Is that right?' said Dalziel again. 'Short time.'
He bit into his sandwich. The egg burst, spread, overflowed faster than his mouth could take it in and ran down his chin.
'I said it could be messy,' said Dalziel.
8
Family History
As soon as it was a reasonable working hour, Dalziel rang the garage.
Yes, they remembered talking to Mrs Fielding. Yes they hoped to send someone out for the car that day. No, they didn't think it would take long to put it right, just a drying-out job. In fact if they'd realized it was so urgent, they'd have brought it in yesterday afternoon. Of course (full of rural indignation) their breakdown truck could get through the floods if it had to.
Dalziel arranged to ring them later in the day and replaced the phone thoughtfully. At that rate, he could be on his way by tea-time. In fact it sounded as if he could have been on his way the previous day.
He was in Hereward Fielding's room and as he left the old man met him at the door.
'I was just using the phone,' Dalziel felt constrained to explain.
'There are other phones in
'Oh. If that's all . . . well, I'm glad to hear it,' said Dalziel. 'I must have mistaken Mrs Fielding. Would anyone mind if I fried myself an egg?'
He didn't wait for an answer but set about the business with the expertise of a man long used to living alone. There was some bacon in the fridge, nice thick-cut rashers which looked as if the pig had seen the light of day in the recent past. He kept his mind off the contents of the foil wrapped package which he had found here yesterday.
'Anyone else?' he called.
‘I’ll try one,' Louisa said, joining him at the stove. 'I can't cook for toffee.'
'I bet your mam can,' said Dalziel.
'When she wants,' said the girl. She lowered her voice. 'Don't take any notice of Bertie. He thinks all big businessmen talk like that.'
'Tell lies, you mean?' said Dalziel, cracking another egg one-handed and draining it through his fingers into the pan.
'Don't worry, love,' he went on. 'I know you can't even refund the Bowls Club their money. God knows what else I don't know about! No. If I was a finance house, I wouldn't lend you your bus-fare home.'
'Up you, then,' said Louisa angrily.
'But I am not a finance house. You know what? I'm going to have mine in a sandwich. It can be messy, but what's life without risks?'
There was no need for him to be talking like this. The first hint that he might be interested in the project had been justifiable. Even then you had to pretend there was some kind of case and he was investigating it. But this was just economic prick-teasing. He tried to retrieve his position.
‘If a couple of thousand's all that's needed. I can't see your problem,' he said, carefully organizing his montage of egg and bacon on a slice of thick-cut bread. 'Your grandfather's got this Gumboot thing coming; how much? Fifteen thousand dollars? Won't he chip in?'
'Not bloody likely,' said Louisa, eating her egg more conventionally, albeit straight from the pan. 'He's been against the project right from the start. He's got a little bit of money from his writing, enough to pay his way in the house, and there's not much he can do with the Gumbelow money at his age. But he'd rather flush it down the loo than let Bertie get his hands on it. That's how he sees the business, you see. Always has. Bertie's balls-up. They don't get on, you may have noticed. And now Herrie thinks Conrad would still be alive if it weren't for the business.'
‘Is that right?' said Dalziel.
'So any knight in shining armour willing to take a small risk for a short time would be gratefully received and bounteously recompensed.'
She looked seriously at him and ran her tongue along the prongs of her fork.
‘Is that right?' said Dalziel again. 'Short time.'
He bit into his sandwich. The egg burst, spread, overflowed faster than his mouth could take it in and ran down his chin.
'I said it could be messy,' said Dalziel.
8
Family History
As soon as it was a reasonable working hour, Dalziel rang the garage.
Yes, they remembered talking to Mrs Fielding. Yes they hoped to send someone out for the car that day. No, they didn't think it would take long to put it right, just a drying-out job. In fact if they'd realized it was so urgent, they'd have brought it in yesterday afternoon. Of course (full of rural indignation) their breakdown truck could get through the floods if it had to.
Dalziel arranged to ring them later in the day and replaced the phone thoughtfully. At that rate, he could be on his way by tea-time. In fact it sounded as if he could have been on his way the previous day.
He was in Hereward Fielding's room and as he left the old man met him at the door.
'I was just using the phone,' Dalziel felt constrained to explain.
'There are other phones in
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