don't know,' she replied and, leaning forward to tap Bonnie on the shoulder, asked, 'He wants to know why you didn't bury Conrad in Low Fold?'
Dalziel shook his head reprovingly at the girl but Bonnie seemed happy to answer.
'Lake House dead have always been buried in High Fold churchyard. You see, Low Fold's high and High Fold's low, if you follow me. Mike, my first husband's, there as well, so it's convenient for all the family.'
Dalziel glanced surreptitiously at his companion but no one seemed to find the comment either amusing or odd. He scratched his left armpit thoughtfully and the rest of the journey was completed in silence.
Orburn appeared to him as a town he'd visited many years ago in his youth rather than one he had left just the previous morning. The main street widened into a kind of square, or rather an ovoid, as if someone had pressed his thumb on the narrow thoroughfares which ran out of it and the street had blebbed to four times its normal width. At one end of the bleb was the Lady Hamilton. Bonnie parked a little farther along, next to a marble statue which age or modesty seemed to have rendered anonymous.
'There's a chemist's over there,' said Bonnie. 'I'll make for the supermarket first, I think. What are you two going to do? Labour for me or your own thing?'
Tillotson and Mavis seemed uncertain of their respective plans and in the end Bonnie said to Dalziel, 'See that baker's over the road? There's a little cafe behind it. We'll have a coffee there in about forty-five minutes. All right?'
She strode away, long firm strides stretching her simple denim skirt taut against her thighs. Tillotson hesitated a moment before following. One thing about your posh upbringing, thought Dalziel. Properly done, it instilled good manners. Their fatal weakness.
'What about you?' he said to Mavis.
'I never go into shops if I can help it,' she replied. 'Especially supermarkets. I'll show you the sights if you like.'
'That's kind,' said Dalziel, which it was. It was also a bloody nuisance. Time was short and he didn't want the girl hanging around.
'But it's shopping I'm after, too,' he went on. 'Just bits and pieces, but the sights'll have to wait till another time.'
'You are staying long enough for another time then?' she asked. 'Should I welcome you to the club?'
'We'll see. Thanks for your offer anyway.'
'That's all right. I'll go and brood on nature.'
She smiled at him and walked slowly away. He crossed the road and went into the chemist's where he watched Mavis out of sight while the assistant wrapped a bottle of aspirin.
'Anything else, sir?' asked the girl.
'Yes,' said Dalziel. 'Where's the police station?'
Fortunately it turned out to be in the direction opposite to that taken by Mavis and with the other two trapped in the canyons of the supermarket, Dalziel was able to enter the single-storied building which was the local station with minimum furtiveness.
'Yes, sir?' said the uniformed constable seated at a typewriter resting on a paper-littered desk.
'Always stand up for the public, son,' said Dalziel, producing his warrant card. 'Who's the boss here?'
‘Inspector Grantley, but he's not in just now, sir,' said the constable standing at a curious semi-attention occasioned by the fact that he had eased one foot out of its boot and was unable to fully re-insert it.
‘CID?'
'That's Detective-Sergeant Cross. He's in his office. Shall I ring him?'
'No, it can't be far in a place this size. Which one? Second on the left. Thanks. You haven't got a rupture, have you, son?'
'No, sir!'
‘If you stand like that much longer, you'll likely get one.'
Dalziel rapped sharply on the indicated door and entered.
The sole occupant of the room was not a pretty sight. He looked as if in the best of circumstances he would have been unprepossessing; unshaven, haggard from fatigue, his shirt collar open, feet on his desk, a still steaming mug of coffee propped perilously on his belly, he was quite revolting.
Dalziel shook his head reprovingly at the girl but Bonnie seemed happy to answer.
'Lake House dead have always been buried in High Fold churchyard. You see, Low Fold's high and High Fold's low, if you follow me. Mike, my first husband's, there as well, so it's convenient for all the family.'
Dalziel glanced surreptitiously at his companion but no one seemed to find the comment either amusing or odd. He scratched his left armpit thoughtfully and the rest of the journey was completed in silence.
Orburn appeared to him as a town he'd visited many years ago in his youth rather than one he had left just the previous morning. The main street widened into a kind of square, or rather an ovoid, as if someone had pressed his thumb on the narrow thoroughfares which ran out of it and the street had blebbed to four times its normal width. At one end of the bleb was the Lady Hamilton. Bonnie parked a little farther along, next to a marble statue which age or modesty seemed to have rendered anonymous.
'There's a chemist's over there,' said Bonnie. 'I'll make for the supermarket first, I think. What are you two going to do? Labour for me or your own thing?'
Tillotson and Mavis seemed uncertain of their respective plans and in the end Bonnie said to Dalziel, 'See that baker's over the road? There's a little cafe behind it. We'll have a coffee there in about forty-five minutes. All right?'
She strode away, long firm strides stretching her simple denim skirt taut against her thighs. Tillotson hesitated a moment before following. One thing about your posh upbringing, thought Dalziel. Properly done, it instilled good manners. Their fatal weakness.
'What about you?' he said to Mavis.
'I never go into shops if I can help it,' she replied. 'Especially supermarkets. I'll show you the sights if you like.'
'That's kind,' said Dalziel, which it was. It was also a bloody nuisance. Time was short and he didn't want the girl hanging around.
'But it's shopping I'm after, too,' he went on. 'Just bits and pieces, but the sights'll have to wait till another time.'
'You are staying long enough for another time then?' she asked. 'Should I welcome you to the club?'
'We'll see. Thanks for your offer anyway.'
'That's all right. I'll go and brood on nature.'
She smiled at him and walked slowly away. He crossed the road and went into the chemist's where he watched Mavis out of sight while the assistant wrapped a bottle of aspirin.
'Anything else, sir?' asked the girl.
'Yes,' said Dalziel. 'Where's the police station?'
Fortunately it turned out to be in the direction opposite to that taken by Mavis and with the other two trapped in the canyons of the supermarket, Dalziel was able to enter the single-storied building which was the local station with minimum furtiveness.
'Yes, sir?' said the uniformed constable seated at a typewriter resting on a paper-littered desk.
'Always stand up for the public, son,' said Dalziel, producing his warrant card. 'Who's the boss here?'
‘Inspector Grantley, but he's not in just now, sir,' said the constable standing at a curious semi-attention occasioned by the fact that he had eased one foot out of its boot and was unable to fully re-insert it.
‘CID?'
'That's Detective-Sergeant Cross. He's in his office. Shall I ring him?'
'No, it can't be far in a place this size. Which one? Second on the left. Thanks. You haven't got a rupture, have you, son?'
'No, sir!'
‘If you stand like that much longer, you'll likely get one.'
Dalziel rapped sharply on the indicated door and entered.
The sole occupant of the room was not a pretty sight. He looked as if in the best of circumstances he would have been unprepossessing; unshaven, haggard from fatigue, his shirt collar open, feet on his desk, a still steaming mug of coffee propped perilously on his belly, he was quite revolting.
Similar Books
