Midnight Fugue by Reginald Hill Page B

who worked out that all the corruption sackings meant lots of opportunity for quick promotion.’
    ‘And what did you say?’ asked Dalziel.
    ‘I saw him close up. Believe me, he was the real thing, a full-blown zealot! He started in the East End, he was mid-twenties then, just made sergeant, and one of his first jobs was dealing with an allegation of assault against Goldie Gidman. I was not long in the job myself and I worked under him for a bit. Came to nothing, of course. The guy who’d made the accusation died in a fire that gutted his flat. Accident, they reckoned; the electrics were shot, but Owen was convinced Goldie was behind it. Couldn’t prove anything, but never stopped going after Goldie till the end of his career. Got to be a bit of a laugh in the end.’
    ‘So you think he just got it completely wrong?’
    ‘It happens. I heard of this guy up north was convinced that the England selectors had been bribed to keep Yorkshire lads out of the team — come think of it, that was you, wasn’t it? Me, like everyone else down here, I just came to the conclusion that if all them smart lawyers at the CPS and at Tory Party Central Office couldn’t find anything niffy in Goldie’s linen basket, then it wasn’t worth looking.’
    ‘You take notice of lawyers down at the Yard these days? Jesus!’
    ‘I take notice of Gidman’s lawyers, that’s for sure. I tell you, Andy, if this call’s bugged, then I’m in deep shit! Even the papers have had their fingers burned too often to risk more than the obliquest of innuendoes. In fact, they wouldn’t even bother with that if it wasn’t for his beloved son.’
    ‘Oh aye. Dave the Turd MP, the soft crinkly buttock of Conservatism.’
    ‘That’s the one. Andy, why am I telling you all this when obviously you’ve dug it up already? Don’t you have anything better to do on a Sunday?’
    ‘Aye, I’m going out to an intimate lunch with this smart tart. Your fiancée, I believe. That were a surprise.’
    ‘To me too, if I’m honest. But a great one. You won’t want the soppy details, not unless you became a Mills and Boon fan same time as you started digging swinging old Bach. Couldn’t believe it when Gina told me. What were you really doing in that cathedral, Andy?’
    I’m not the only one who’s stayed sharp, thought Dalziel.
    ‘Mebbe I were praying for guidance,’ he said.
    ‘Girl guidance, perhaps,’ said Purdy, laughing. ‘And you’re too old to get one of them. Well, a man’s entitled to his operational secrets.’
    ‘Not you, not if you want my help,’ said Dalziel. ‘Listen, you don’t sound like you’ve changed your mind about Wolfe being dead. So what about this photo? Gina says it’s definitely him.’
    ‘That don’t stop it being a fake. You checked it out yet?’
    ‘No,’ admitted Dalziel. ‘It looks fine to me.’
    ‘Andy, they could give you tits like Jordan and they’d look so real, you’d be shopping for a cantilevered bra. No, I’ll bet you’ll find it’s a fake.’
    ‘OK. And if I do, what then?’
    ‘Listen, I think this is more about me than Gina. My money’s on the whole thing being set up by someone down here who doesn’t like me and has heard about me and Gina getting it together, so he decided to stir things up and jerk us about a bit.’
    ‘Hard to believe with someone as lovable as you, Mick.’
    ‘Ha ha. You know we have to deal with some pretty sick fucks, Andy. In fact, one or two of the bastards we even have to work with! My first guv’nor warned me, keep your eyes wide open, especially in the office. Working in the Met’s like having your drink spiked with roofies. Doze off and you can be pretty sure someone’s fucking you.’
    ‘So why’d you not just tell Gina this when she rang?’
    ‘If she’d been able to get hold of me when she got the photo, I probably would have done. But I was on this op, mobiles off, security silence, all that crap.’
    ‘Sod’s law, eh?’ said Dalziel.
    ‘Maybe