Dialogues of the Dead (40 page)

335 who started it, I think. He was one member of staff who wasn't at all fazed by Dee's little games. In fact he joined in, often managing to cap him. And it was him that drew attention to the significance of Dee's initials. O.E.D. And after that Dee started finding E-words for all his collections so they could be OED's too. Like Orson's Erotic Dictionary.' 'But where's the Richard?' enquired Pascoe. 'What? Ah, Dick, you mean? No, that was the English master's joke. He started calling him Dictionary Dee, and it stuck. Dick is short for Dictionary. Gerrit?' 'I see,' said Pascoe. He could also see Dalziel yawning again. He said, 'So it was exit Karl and Orson, enter Charley and Dick, right?' 'And enter Johnny too. No more taking the piss out of Sinjon.' 'So now they belonged?' 'They were accepted rather than belonged,' said Wingate judiciously. 'They never let the rest of us forget how we'd once treated them. They started a magazine called The Skulker, only two copies of each edition, one for themselves, one they rented out. It was real samizdat stuff, so outrageously subversive that everyone wanted to read it, even though it was us as much as the staff who were being subverted.' Pascoe recalled his visit to Penn's flat and said, ' "Lonesome's loblance", that mean anything to you?' Wingate looked at him curiously and said, 'You have been doing your research. Lonesome was Mr Pine, Head of Dacre House. Everyone hated him.' : 'Dacre House ... known as Dog House?' guessed Pascoe. 'And , loblance'? Let me guess. One of Dee's names for the male organ?' 'Don't recall it precisely, but it sounds likely.' 'Simpson? Bland?' 'Head Prefect of Dacre and his second-in-command. Dee and Penn's greatest enemies. They had a running battle with them.' 'Who won?' 'It was no contest by the time they got to the Fifths. Dee and Penn were in pretty well total control. From time to time they; would even call each other Kraut and Whoreson very publicly, ;i though no one else dared, of course. It was like they were saying,,; Just because we condescend to coexist with you lot doesn't mean we've ' really got anything in common. We 're still different, and different means better. Anyone care to argue?' 'And did anyone?' 'Occasionally. But by the time Dee had sorted them out verbally and Penn physically, they realized the error of their ways.' 'And little Johnny Oakeshott, did he stay part of the team?' asked Pascoe. 'Johnny? Sorry, didn't I say? He died.' 'Died? Just like that? Christ, I know they're all stiff upper lip, these places, but I'd have thought they took notice of dead kids!' said Dalziel. 'How did he die?' asked Pascoe. 'Drowned. Don't ask me how. There were all kinds of stories but all that ever came out officially was that he'd been found early one morning in the school swimming pool. Midnight bathing was a favourite rule-breaking sport. It was assumed he'd gone in by himself, or joined some group and got left behind. We don't know. Penn and Dee went ballistic. They brought out a special edition of The Skulker. Front page was all black with J'ACCUSE scrawled across it in white.' 'Who did they accuse?' Wingate shrugged. 'Everyone. The system. Life. They claimed to have got in touch with Johnny through a ouija board and promised that all would be revealed in the next edition.' 'And was it?' 'No. Someone told the Head and he came down hard. Told them what they'd written already was enough to get them expelled. Anything more and they'd be finishing their education in a pair of crummy comprehensives, miles apart. That was a clincher. Together they could survive, even prosper. Apart... who knows?' 'So they caved in and conformed?' 'Caved in? Perhaps. Conformed? No way. From that time on, the pair of them refused to have anything at all to do with the formal structures of the school. They never became prefects, refused to accept prizes, had nothing to do with organized sports or any other extra-mural activities. And as far as I know they've never attended any Old Boys' get-together or responded to any Appeal. They went through the sixth form, got university places,

337 did their exams, walked out after the last one, and were never seen at Unthank again.' 'Did they go to the same university?' 'No. They went their separate ways, which surprised a lot of people. Dee went up to John's, Oxford, to read English and Penn went off to Warwick to do modem languages. I meet them both occasionally through my job. We get on fine. But if I ever refer to our schooldays, they look at me blankly. It's as if they've wiped that part of the slate clean. You won't even find any mention of it in Penn's publicity material.' Now Wingate fell silent as if his memories had stirred up stuff he'd sooner have forgotten. After a while Pascoe asked, 'Anything else you can tell us, John?' B 'No, that's it.' 'You sure?' said Dalziel. 'Not holding owt back, are you?' 'No, I'm not,' retorted Wingate angrily. 'If you say so,' said Dalziel. 'But I can't think why you made such a fuss about talking in the first place if that's all you had to say.' 'Oh, there were several reasons, Superintendent,' said Wingate. 'Let me list them if it will make you feel happier and hasten my departure ... First because what I had to say doesn't show me or my fellows in a particularly good light; secondly, because I see no reason why I should retail personal details of people's lives to the police unless I feel they are truly relevant to some matter of importance; and thirdly, as a journalist, I am in the business of collecting rather than dispensing information, unless I feel there is some positive professional quid pro quo.' 'Seems to me secondly and thirdly must sometimes trip over each other,' said Dalziel. 'Any road, you can run along now - so long as you remember that, while it weren't much of a quo, you've had your quid for it. Any mention of owt about this in any of your little programmes and I'll be asking for a refund. Bye now.' 'Goodbye, Superintendent,' said Wingate. Pascoe, trying for a conciliatory tone, said a touch over effusively, 'Thanks a lot, John. That was really most helpful.' The producer looked at him for a long moment then said, 'And goodbye to you too, Detective Chief Inspector.' Bang goes another nearly friend, thought Pascoe. '

338 \par When the door had closed behind the departing man, he said to Dalziel, 'So, how did you know about Wingate and Ripley?' 'Lucky guess,' said the Fat Man. 'Not mine. Young Bowler here said summat.' 'Is that so?' said Pascoe, giving the DC a not altogether friendly glance. 'Well, I don't think we'll be getting much cooperation from our local TV station from now on.' 'Nay, I think we'll be getting all the co-operation we ever want,' said Dalziel, grinning sharkishly. 'Shouldn't waste your sympathy there, Pete. Married man who can't control his own loblance has to be a right twilly-flew. Question is, was it worthwhile squeezing his goolies? Did we get owt useful? Young Bowler, you looked like you were wetting your knickers to say summat back there.' 'Yes, sir,' said Hat eagerly. 'Two things really. First, this boy Johnny who drowned, in this game Perm and Dee play, even though it's just for two players, they set up a third tile rack and when I saw them playing - when they called each other Kraut and Whoreson - the letters on this rack were J, 0, H, N, N, and Y. Also, they've both got this photo of the three of them at school, at least I presume the third one's the dead boy.' 'They've got a picture of themselves with a dead boy?' said Dalziel, interested. . 'No, sir. I mean, he wasn't dead when the picture was taken.' 'Pity. Go on.' 'And his real name's St John, and that drawing that came with the First Dialogue, didn't Dee say it was from the Gospel according to Stjohn ...?' He felt himself running out of steam. Dalziel said, 'That your first thing finished then? Let's hope you're working upwards. Next?' 'It just struck me, with Dee's real name being Orson, it made me think of what Councillor Steel said before he died which sounded like rosebud - didn't someone say that was the last word that someone said in that film Citizen whatsit which Orson Welles directed and starred in ... isn't that right... ? I never saw it myself. ..' He looked around hopefully, not for applause but at least a shred of interest.

339 Pascoe gave him an encouraging smile, Wield remained as unreadable as ever, and Dalziel said, 'What's your point, lad; 'It's just the association, sir ... I thought it might be significant.. .' 'Oh aye? I suppose if Stuffer Steel were a film buff, which he weren't, and if he were an old Unthinkable, which he weren't, and if he knew Dee's real first name, which I doubt, then it might come in sniffing distance of significant. Don't cry, lad. At least you're trying. What about you two big strong silent types? Wieldy?' 'This thing about the dead boy sounds a bit odd, but I don't see that it adds up to much,' said the sergeant. 'More than just a bit odd, wouldn't you say?' said Pascoe. 'Mebbe. But it's not something Dee and Penn try to keep hidden, is it? Photo's on display, name on the tile rack which anyone can see. It's what folk want to hide that usually means most. And it seems to me we're getting bogged down in words here, not real stuff.' 'The Wordman is all about words, Wieldy,' said Pascoe gently. 'Aye, but about words playing around inside him. Seems to me Dee and Penn in their different ways let their words out, don't trap them inside where they might fester.' Dalziel, in face of this unexpected psycho-linguistic analysis, let out an et to Brute sigh and turned to Pascoe. 'Pete, you think we might be on to something here, do you? Makes a change not to hear you badmouthing Franny Roote, who I hear is like to turn out the next Enid Biyton. But it 'ud be nice to know what's really going on in that mazy mind of thine.' 'I don't know .. . it's just that I can't believe that in Dee's case all these coincidences of place and time and opportunity and interest don't add up to something significant.' 'So let's talk to him again. Not you, but. If he is the Wordman, he's a clever bugger with it and he'll have got you sussed by now. You talk to Charley Penn, see if you can shake him on this lads'-night-in alibi. Me, I'll see how Mr Dee reacts to a bit of basic English. Bowler, you come with me.' The, sir?' said Hat unenthusiastically. 'Aye. Any objection? From what I've heard you spend more time round at that library than you do here, so why so shy all of a sudden?' Then the Fat Man let out a derisive laugh. 'Got it. Your bit of stuff, Miss Ribena, thinks a lot of her boss and you're scared it might queer your pitch if she catches you holding him down while I stamp on his goolies! Test of character, lad. She's going to have to choose between you and him some time, might as well force the issue afore you buy the ring. Now let's get some forward progress on this case, right? We've been running across the pitch far too long, lots of fancy footwork but no territorial gain. If this bugger wants to play games with us, let's at least start playing in his half of the field!' Such a rallying cry, probably even more forcibly expressed, might have had some effect on a bunch of muddied oafs playing rugger, thought Pascoe. But none of those present in the CID room seemed fired by it. He said, 'Chief complaining about lack of progress, was he, sir?' 'He knows better,' said Dalziel. 'Though it's evident Loopy Linda's still banging heads in the Home Office. But Desperate Dan's got things closer to home to worry about.' 'Like what?' Dalziel glanced towards the doorway where Hat and Wield stood in deep confabulation. 'Like who's going to make the presentation at George's farewell tonight, me or him.' 'I should have thought, in the circs, it's got to be top man there,' said Pascoe, surprised. 'Much as George loves you, I think he'll be expecting Mr Trimble's honeyed words and firm handshake to accompany the clock or whatever it is we're giving him.' 'Fishing tackle, they tell me,' said Dalziel. 'Well, we'll see.' Wield and Bowler had stopped talking and were looking to Dalziel expectantly. Pascoe had a sense of something unsaid, but if he were right, it was going to stop unsaid, for the time being anyway. 'Can't hang around here all day,' declared the Fat Man. 'Not when there's goolies to stamp on. Come on, lad. We're off to the

341 library. Where I hope you'll remember the first two rules of good detection.' 'What're they, sir?' said Bowler. 'First's no groping on the job!' chortled Dalziel. 'I'll tell thee the second on the way.' Chapter Thirty-nine

Despite the Fat Man's promise, most of the short journey to the Centre passed in silence, which Dalziel finally broke by saying accusingly, 'Cat got your tongue?' 'Sorry, sir, I didn't want to disturb you.' Hat had decided that on the whole it wasn't a good idea to enquire farther about Mrs Blossom's tattoo. 'It's not talk as disturbs a good cop, lad, it's lack of it,' said the Fat Man significantly. 'Yes, sir. Is that the second rule, sir?' 'Eh?' 'Of good detective work. You said you would tell me the second on the way.' 'The second is don't take the piss out of anyone big enough to cause you grief,' said Dalziel. 'No, I just thought, you and me being together all cosy like, good chance for you to tell me owt you felt I ought to be told.' Oh shit! thought Hat. Even with poorjax dead, he's still going on about me being the leak! The old sod can't bear not to be right. He's convinced I did it, but he won't be happy rill he hears me say it. I could really pull his plonker here, tell him, Yes, sir, I've got something to say about that info that was leaked to Jax the Ripper. And when he's got himself all ready, sitting there all smug and know-it-all, expecting my confession, I'll let him know the leak was his randy old mucker, George Headingley, whose farewell party he's attending this evening, and what's he going to do about it? And what would he do about it? That was the question. Presumably, once he knew something like that, he couldn't just let it go. There'd have to be a proper investigation and instead of sailing into the sunset, poor old Georgie Porgie would be ... well, he'd

343 rehearsed sufficiently already the possible consequences for Headingley. He said, 'Well, there was one thing...' 'Aye?' 'You know Charley Penn writes books? Well, I was thinking about what Dr Urquhart said ...' 'Should watch that, it could send you blind,' said Dalziel. '.. . about the Wordman being so hung up on word games and stuff, he probably regards certain printed texts as a sort of coded gospel, and I wondered if it might be worth taking a close look , at Perm's novels . ..' 'Oh aye? You volunteering to read 'em? We're going to the right place to get a start.' 'No, sir, no way,' said Hal. 'I mean, I don't go in for that sort ' of thing, I thought maybe talk to someone who knows about these things ...' 'You got someone in mind? Not your ladyfriend from the lib rary, by any chance?' Christ, it's like your mind is a goldfish bowl and this big cat dips his paw in whenever he fancies, thought Hat. 'Yes, she might be OK,' he said. Then because this sounded a ' little lukewarm, he added, 'She's been very helpful in getting my ideas sorted already.' And saw his error even as the words came out. ; 'Already? Make a habit of discussing confidential police matters ; with pretty young things, do you?' said the Fat Man. 'I hope not, lad, 'cos that's the second rule I were going to tell you. When someone takes a hold of your bollocks, whether to twist 'em or to stroke 'em, just lie back and think of me. There's not enough pleasure or pain in the world to cover what I'm likely to do to any bugger I catch talking out of school. You with me, lad?' 'Yes, sir. I'm with you,' said Hat, wishing with all his sinking heart he wasn't. But that naturally ebullient organ rose again when as they got ; out of the car the Fat Man said, 'That weren't a bad idea about Charley Penn's books. Have a chat with that lass of thine. From the sound of it, she owes you one. And I don't mean a jump. That you negotiate with your own coin, not mine.' And things got even better when they arrived in the reference library to find Rye alone, looking very fetching in a low-cut sleeveless top and clinging hipsters. 'How do, luv,' said Dalziel. 'Bossman around?' 'Sorry, no. He just popped out,' said Rye. 'Can I help?' 'Not really. Need to talk to him. Any idea where he's gone?' 'I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to give members of the public...' She broke off and looked at Dalziel more closely. 'Oh, it's Mr Dazzle, isn't it? Sorry, I didn't recognize you. Is it police business? Then I'm sure it'll be OK. He's gone along to the Heritage Centre, he shouldn't be long if you'd like to wait.' Behind Dalziel, Hat grinned broadly, especially at Rye's studied mispronunciation of the holy name. But the Fat Man was untroubled by such bird-bolts as this and replied courteously, 'Thank you, Ms Pomona, but I'll just go and find him. Glad to see you so chipper after your nasty experience at the weekend. Lot of lasses these days would have needed a month off work and counselling for life. Thank God there's still some of the old stock around. But if you do need to talk to anyone, DC Bowler's a good listener.' With a hint of a wink at Hat, he wandered off through the door. 'You like living dangerously, do you?' said Hat. Rye smiled and said, 'Not so dangerous, just your normal neanderthal. I caught him clocking my cleavage.' Hat, who had been enjoying an eyemi himself, averted his gaze and said, 'So how're you keeping?' 'I'm OK. Didn't sleep too well, but that'll pass.' 'I'm sure, but look, don't try to be too relaxed about it. That was a nasty shock, you had, the head and all. These things can get to you in unexpected ways.' 'You were there too. You have some kind of immunity?' 'No. That's how I know about how it can hit you.' They regarded each other gravely, then she smiled and reached out and touched his hand and said, 'OK, so let's counsel each other. Like a coffee?' 'If you're not too busy.' She gestured round at the almost empty library. A couple of pallid students were working in the reading bays, a wild-haired