The Price of Butcher's Meat (31 page)

“Let's look hard at these Parkers,” he said. “Lots of connections with the victim, with some suggestion of tensions in the Sandytown consortium between its two leading members, Tom Parker and Daphne Denham.”

Seems Seymour had interviewed dotty Diana and her chum. Dennis had been sitting there, playing with his laptop, not getting involved as the younger DCs bickered about who were king of the castle. Pete asked rather sarcastic if he had owt to add to the “somewhat pithy” statements he'd taken. It didn't faze the lad. He just gave his big friendly grin and said, “Not really. Struck me Miss Parker were a flush short of a toilet, but harmless with it.”

“Well, thank you for your always helpful analysis, Dennis,” says Pete, and I saw Novello and Bowler glance at each other, this time in harmony, agreeing that old Dennis weren't a threat in their private little Olympics.

Then Seymour said, “One thing, though, sir, this animal rights angle…”

“Yes?” said Pete.

“I were looking through the case file earlier and I noticed that stuff about Lady Denham having a record…”

I could see this were news to most of them there.

Wield said, “Hit a hunt protester with her riding crop, got bound over to keep the peace. This were thirty years ago, don't see how it can be relevant now, unless you can tell us different, Dennis?”

With Pete, that would've sounded sarcastic, but with Wieldy you never can tell.

“Just thought I'd check it out,” said Seymour. “The protester were a sixteen-year-old lass, Alexandra Lambe. She were squirting some spray stuff up the hounds' noses to put them off the scent when Lady Denham
hit her. Back then she'd likely have got off, case dismissed, except the girl turned up in court with a severely blackened left eye.”

“Dennis, I'm losing the will to live,” said Pascoe. “Get to whatever point there is to your tale, will you?”

Seymour said, “Thing is, sir, this Mrs. Griffiths I talked to at Seaview Terrace, her first name's Sandy.”

He paused and gave us his smile, like he were expecting a kiss on both cheeks and a medal.

“The point,” said Pete wearily.

“I got a niece called Alexandra, she always gets Sandy,” said Seymour.

“And your niece is relevant how? Convictions for murder? An urban terrorist, perhaps?” said Pete.

I saw Novello and Bowler grinning like a pair of chimps.

“No, sir. She's only eight,” said Seymour. “It were just that this Mrs. Griffiths had a funny eye. Not funny ha ha, but it didn't move in sync with t'other.”

I thought, Christ, that explains her weird stare. Here's my big ego putting it down to meeting me, while uncomplicated Dennis spots straight off it's her eye! Not only that, he jumps to a connection, 'cos now he was saying, “When I checked out this Lambe girl, it turned out a few years later, she lost the use of the same eye that got blacked. On the record 'cos she wanted to claim compensation and her brief asked for court records of the case and police evidence. Never came to anything. Too much time had passed, and they couldn't find a doc to swear that was the cause anyway.”

Now the DCs had stopped grinning and Pete's voice had lost that sarky edge as he said, “So what you're saying is, maybe this Sandy Griffiths and this Alexandra Lambe are one and the same person?”

“No, sir. Not maybe. Just got confirmation on my laptop. Definitely,” said Seymour. “Got married in 1987, widowed eight years later. Bit more too, sir. She's got a record. Animal rights activities, so she didn't grow out of it. Bound over a couple of times, three fines, four weeks community
service, and six months suspended for harassment. She's a member of some group called ANIMA. So unless it's just a coincidence she's holidaying in Sandytown…”

Got to admire Pete. Not the slightest eye flicker in my direction even though he knew as well as I did that ANIMA were the protest group founded by my Cap!

“Good work, Dennis! The rest of you take notice. You can't make this kind of useful connection unless you've taken onboard all the facts. Let's have her in, see what she has to say for herself. Dennis, it's your shout, you do the honors.”

“Should I go too, sir?” said Ivor Novello. “A woman's touch might come in handy.”

Doesn't want to miss out, I thought.

“No,” said Pete. “I've got another job for you. Okay, people. That's it. Check with Sergeant Wield here if you've any doubts at all about what you're doing. And, like I said, let Dennis be your shining example. I want results! Shirley, a word.”

He gathered his bits of paper together, jerked his head at me, and wandered off through a door behind him. Novello followed. So did I. Must have been the flat's bedroom. No bed now, just a table, couple of chairs, and a recorder. Made our interview rooms back at the Factory look like suites at the Ritz.

Pete registered my presence but said nowt.

To Ivor he said, “I want you to head on up to Kyoto House and invite Miss Heywood down for a chat.”

Ivor said, “Yes, sir. Sir, about the e-mails…”

“No need to mention them, Shirley,” he said. “Off you go.”

The lass left.

“What e-mails?” I said.

“A Miss Heywood, whom I believe you have met, is presently a guest of the Parkers and she has been sending a fairly detailed e-mail account of her time here to her sister. She is, it seems, a psychology student, and Novello, thinking that her outsider's view of the setup
here in Sandytown might be of interest, persuaded her to let her glance at the e-mails. And very interesting they are too, for all kinds of reasons.”

He patted a stack of printouts on the table.

“Let me guess,” I said. “Ivor did the all-girls-together thing and got a hold of those on the understanding they were for her eyes only. No wonder she ain't looking forward to seeing young Heywood again.”

“Shirley's a Catholic, they know how to deal with guilt,” said Pete indifferently. “She is also, I'm glad to say, a very sharp, very ambitious young detective. Anyway, Andy, it's really good to see you here. You're looking a lot more like your old self this morning. You slept well?”

“Yes, I did. And yes, I've been, and yes, I take sugar,” I said. “Nice of you not to worry me poor invalid mind with more bad news afore you took off last night.”

He shrugged and said, “Andy, I'll be glad of any input you can offer, and you're very welcome to sit in on briefings, as you've just done, but I can't be making diversions to bring you up to speed on every new development.”

Me, I didn't rate two steps back into my room as diversion, but I guessed the poor sod were under enough stress without me piling it on. No need to let him off scot-free, but.

I said, “Desperate Dan been in touch, has he?”

He winced and said, “Yes, the chief constable and I spoke briefly early this morning.”

“And how about Sammy Ruddlesdin? He been round for his daily briefing yet?”

I thought I'd pushed him too far, but he's a hard man to topple over the edge.

He said, “No doubt Sammy and I will talk later. Meanwhile, as I say, Andy, I'd be really pleased to have any input you may care to offer.”

He sounded so sincere, I'd have bought a time-share off him.

I said, “You didn't mention Roote out there.”

“I couldn't see how he might be relevant.”

“No? There were a time when we couldn't talk about an outbreak of shoplifting in Woollies without you bringing Roote into it,” I said. “Now we've got him on the scene at a murder and you don't want to talk about him!”

“Wieldy's spoken to him already, as you know,” he said. “And I'll be talking to him myself later. Don't worry, Andy, if I feel that he's involved in any way, I shall know how to do my duty.”

I clapped my hands a couple of times. There's not another bugger I know in the Force could have delivered that line like Pete Pascoe!

“Right, that's that sorted,” I said. “So are you going to let me take a look at Charley Heywood's e-mails then?”

He looked doubtful and said, “Not sure if I should do that, Andy, in view of the personal connection.”

“Eh?” I said.

“You know her father, I believe. And also you are mentioned in the text.”

“Jesus is mentioned in the Gospels, that mean he can't take a look and see what they've been writing about him?”

“A persuasive parallel,” he said. “But we really shouldn't forget the assurance of confidentiality that Novello gave Miss Heywood. Shirley has passed them on to me under the same condition. In other words, they won't be passed around every Tom, Dick, and Harry. Miss Heywood sounds an interesting girl.”

Decided to ignore the Tom, Dick, and Harry crack, but it's not often I get the chance to trip Pete up with this daft PC stuff so I said, “Shouldn't call her a girl, if I were you. She's a bright young woman.”

“Thanks, Andy, I'll try to remember that. Though, like so many these days, despite all that time in our expensive education system, she still can't spell.”

“Pete,” I said, “you're a real tonic to a sick old man. You make me feel young!”

He said, “Always glad to help. But it's not just a grumpy-old-man moan. You recall that letter that Lady Denham got, the one you handed
over to me? In it, the word
receive
was spelt with the
e
and the
i
the wrong way round. And it's that particular error we find in these e-mails.”

“Oh aye?” I said, unimpressed. “But according to you, most of the young buggers nowadays can't spell. Think you'll need a bit more than that to send her down for a lifer.”

“There are other interesting things here as well,” he said, a bit coldly. “I don't see much point in discussing them till I've talked with the girl. I mean young woman.”

Wield came in.

He said, “Shirley's just told me you've sent her to bring Miss Heywood in.”

Hello, I thought. Pete making decisions without consulting Broken Face. The times they are a-changing.

“That's right. Is there a problem?”

“Just wondered who you wanted to deal with first, Miss Heywood or Mrs. Griffiths.”

“Heywood,” said Pete. “Let Griffiths stew. Andy, anything else? As you can see, we're up to our eyes.”

I said, “Nowt, except I'd go easy with the Heywood lass. Like I say, she's bright.”

“Be nice to bright people. I'll note that,” said Pascoe. “Anything else, sir?”

Trying to make me piss off by provoking me! There's folk tried that with cattle prods and failed!

I said, “Aye, and Godley the healer's fallen for her in a big way, only she's too bright to have noticed. So if you really think he's holding something back, mebbe you could use her somehow to get him to open up.”

He said thoughtfully, “Thanks, Andy. I'll make a note of that,” this time sounding like he meant it.

So while I was in credit, I took me chance and said, “Pete, I can see you're up to your neck here. I were thinking: Fester and Pet up at the home are likely feeling a bit out of it 'cos you haven't got round to inter
viewing them yet. I'm on the spot, and I know what makes 'em tick, so why don't I have a chat, get a preliminary statement, like you get from Novello or Bowler, then you can decide whether you need to follow it up yourself.”

I chucked in the last bit about Hat and Ivor 'cos I thought the notion of using me like a DC might appeal, but, give him his due, he didn't hesitate for a second.

He said, “That would be very helpful, Andy. Thank you. But by the book, eh?”

“You mean I can't use the rubber truncheon? Oh shit,” I said. “What about my little friend?”

I pulled out Mildred.

“Oh yes,” he said. “Might be useful. At your discretion.”

Wield gave a sort of snarly grunt that meant, What the fuck's this about?

Pete said, “Forgot to mention in last night's excitements, Wieldy. Andy's gone hi-tech. He's got Lady D recorded in conversation with him. Be good if you two can get together some time and transcribe it. But not now. You've both got better things to do.”

Wieldy and me can both take a hint. He left and I said, “Right. I'll be off. And thank you too.”

“What for?”

“Not mentioning Cap and ANIMA,” I said.

“No need to,” he said. “Like me and Franny Roote, I know you won't let a personal relationship stand in the way of your duty.”

By the cringe! I thought, the bugger's really determined to put me in my place.

Then he grinned like a schoolboy and produced this green plastic file.

“Here you are,” he said. “I'll be interested to hear what you make of them.”

“What?”