The Price of Butcher's Meat (17 page)

My head were really spinning now. Didn't know whether it were from Festerwhanger's bubbles or Roote's babbles. Didn't care either. I pulled my arm free and came close to keeling over, except someone got a hold of my other arm and I heard Pet Sheldon say, “Time to be on our way, I think, Andy.”

Places I normally drink, no bugger calls closing time on me. I forced the world back into focus. Distantly I saw buffalo woman beckoning me like I was a headwaiter. I gave her a smile and a wave and said to Pet, “You're right, luv. Take me to bed.”

The fresh sea air hit me like a flying fish and I leaned heavily on Pet as we tacked toward the old house. There were a din like the clatter of the weaving room in an old wool mill as an ancient motorbike and sidecar went rattling by. The rider had his helmet and visor on, but I recognized Mr. Godley's beard. Funny, it were likely the fresh air, but just the sight of him made me feel better.

“There goes the healer,” I said, managing to straighten up a bit. “Old Festerwhanger takes him on, you could all be out of work.”

“I shan't hold my breath,” she said. “It's nursing gets sick people better, not dosing them with herbs, or sticking them with skewers.”

“Nay, lass, you shouldn't rush to mock what it says in the Bible,” I said.

“Laying on of hands and that stuff?” she said. “We've moved on a bit since then, I hope. Just because that chap looks like Jesus doesn't mean he's going to raise you from the dead. So let's get you to your bed, shall we?”

“That's what I'm talking about, luv,” I said. “Old Testament therapy. Like King David and Abishag the Shummanite. Any chance of fixing that for me?”

She knew her Bible 'cos that made her laugh.

“My old gran always used to say the devil could quote scripture,” she said. “Now shut up or I'll drop you here on the drive and let Lady Denham run you over with that rust bucket of hers. She's a menace, that woman.”

She spoke so vehemently, I thought, There's a bit more than road rage here! What's she done to rattle your cage?

It took me another half dozen paces to work it out. Back afore the big bang, I'd have seen it half an hour ago.

It's old Festerwhanger! Pet's got the hots for him too! It must really get up her nose, seeing the way he fawns on Lady D and she treats him like her personal property.

I said, slurring it a bit to encourage indiscretion, “Time for her to marry again then. Tried it twice, so she must have a taste for it.”

“Woman of her age should know better,” said Pet, very pursed-lips proper. “Do you need to lean on me quite so much? A couple of glasses of wine and you're wobbling like a blancmange. I thought you detectives all had hollow legs.”

I straightened up a bit, but it were hard. Must be all that rubbish the quacks have been pumping into me. That's twice a couple of
glasses have reached parts that it used to take fifteen pints to get close to.

Pet got me back in my room, laid me in my bed, laughed when I invited her to join me for a bit of Platonic dialogue, and buggered off. Soon as she'd gone I got up and checked my sunken treasure in the cistern. Half a bottle of malt and Mildred. Checked no bugger had been interfering with either and took a slug of the Caledonian cream.

Always reckoned that Dr. Scotch was a cure for everything, but this time I'm having me doubts. That's why I'm sitting here on the bog, talking to Mildred. Good spot for meditation. Don't need one of them fancy computers if you've got a comfy bog—soon have this case sorted out.

What the fuck am I talking about!? What fucking case? Am I going doolally? Mebbe being off the job's giving me withdrawal symptoms, so everything starts looking like a case waiting to happen…victim set up…suspects in place…motives well established…great detective on the spot…all waiting for a writer to give them the nod…

For fuck's sake, you daft bugger, you've let yon scrote Roote get inside your mind! All that crap about relearning your part. And it's this place too. The Avalon. Sandytown. The sooner you get off this bog and into your bed, the better.

But I've definitely got this feeling something bad is coming…something very real…

Oh Jesus Christ! and here it is…!

Oh, Mildred, what have I done?

Woke up feeling great, sort of cleansed and purged. No wonder after what came out in the bathroom, and if any bugger don't believe me, I can play them the sound effects, courtesy of Mildred!

Better out than in, they say, and this morning I really did feel better. Put my dressing gown on and went and had breakfast on the terrace. Pet stopped to have a chat, told me I looked like Noël Coward, and we had a laugh together. Then I went back to my room and me and Mildred were just reviewing what I'd said and done at the party when there was a tap at the door. It were Pet, not smiling anymore. She said, “You have a visitor, Mr. Dalziel,” all formal, but afore I could ask her what was amiss, she was bundled aside by buffalo woman who said, “Thank you, Nurse Sheldon, I won't keep you from your duties anymore.” Then she came into the room and shut the door in Pet's face!

I thought, Watch out, lad. Likely it's your lily-white body she's after, and you in your dressing gown! I made sure Mildred were switched on just in case it ever came to court!

Needn't have worried, it were my brains, not my body, she wanted! Or mebbe that should worry me more. I've listened to the recording half a dozen times, don't know whether to take it seriously or not. I mean, a lot of rich old biddies think someone's trying to kill them, don't they?

Any road, I think I reassured her. I were certainly glad to get shut of her. After she'd gone I didn't feel quite as bright as I'd done before so I stripped off and got into the shower. Ten minutes lightly boiled then thirty seconds quick freeze usually gets me fighting fit! The light boiling were working its magic and I were enjoying a bit of a singsong, seeing
how many verses of “The Indian Maid” I could remember when the shower door opened behind me and I felt a pair of arms go round my waist and what felt like a pair of soft pumpkins press into my back.

I thought, “Right first time, Dalziel! It really is your lily-white she's after. Prepare to repel boarders!”

I spun round and put my hands up to the pumpkins to push her away. Plenty to push against, I tell you!

Then the steam cleared a bit, and I realized the pumpkins I had my hands on weren't Lady D's but Pet Sheldon's!

I said, “What's going off, luv?”

She said, “You said you were having trouble scrubbing your back, remember?”

I said, “Then I'd best turn round, hadn't I?”

And she said, “Oh no, I think I can reach from here.”

And somehow as we talked my push had turned into squeeze and she didn't need to reach all that far 'cos I found I were stretching to meet her.

Well, like I've heard a lot of the witnesses say, after that I don't remember much, it all happened so quickly. Seemed no time at all afore I found myself lying on my bed with Pet draped all over me, telling me how great it had been. Already I knew I weren't going to feel good about it, but hearing her piling on the praise eased the pain a lot, till I realized that, mixed up with stroking my ego, not to mention my undercarriage, she were slipping in a lot of questions about what Daph Denham had wanted with me. Even then I were so laid back in every sense, I got as far as having a laugh and saying the silly old biddy thought some bugger were trying to kill her afore it dawned on me that this bit of Q and A were likely the main aim of the exercise.

The thrust of her questions told me her main concern was old Fester. Didn't know how I felt about that, getting a shag from one woman so's she can pump me about another on behalf of the fellow she really fancies! In the end it made my head ache, but, being a man, a little thing like a headache didn't stop Pet's busy fingers from having a reviving effect.

Knew I had to make a decision. At the moment I reckoned that if ever I had to explain myself to Cap (which heaven forfend!), I could just about justify what happened in the shower by pleading surprise attack and long abstinence. This time I'd be going into it with my eyes wide open. So, tho the prospect of seconds weren't unattractive, I surprised myself and Pet by rolling off the bed and saying, “Thanks for that, luv, but I can't lie around all day enjoying myself. Things to do.”

She didn't speak, just got dressed and let herself out, but I could see she were thinking maybe this hadn't been all that good an idea! That made two of us!

I felt like a drink and a bit of quiet to drink it in, so I got dressed, strolled down to the gatehouse, and got Stan to call me a taxi. Told him to take me to the Hope and Anchor, but when we got down there it were all shut up. The taxi driver laughed when he saw my face and said, “Where you from, mate? You don't look French. But you'll not find many pubs here open before ten in the morning.”

I said, “It'll open for me!”

Didn't want to make a scene banging on the front door, so went round the back, where I found the supply hatch open and I could hear someone down in the cellar.

I hollered out, “Hello, the house. That you down there, Alan?”

A moment later his face appeared below me and once again he proved he were my kind of landlord. Just like the first time I showed up, he expressed no surprise but shouted up, “Come on down, Mr. Dalziel. If you don't fancy the ramp, you'll find the back door's open.”

Time was I'd have just rolled straight down, but tempus fuckit, and I went in through the kitchen and down a flight of stairs so narrow and worn, the ramp might have been a better bet. And what I found there made me wish I'd not bothered!

That cellar were like something out of an old Hammer horror flick. Gloomy, cobwebby, full of black beetles and musty smells, and lit by a single bare bulb, it were the best advert for aluminum kegs and plastic pipes I've ever seen.

I said, “Jesus, lad, they don't build 'em like this anymore!”

He said, “Aye, there's been a pub here since good King Charles's golden days, and I don't reckon much has changed since then. I'm trying to persuade Lady D we need a bit of modernization.”

I looked at the racks the beer kegs were lined up on. Hearts of oak mebbe in the seventeenth century, they looked like hearts of wood rot now, and the whole cockley edifice were propped up against the uneven unplastered wall with what looked like a pair of clothes poles.

I said, “Bugger persuasion! Get Health and Safety in, they'll soon get her sorted. Looks to me like this lot could come tumbling down anytime.”

“Likely you're right,” he said. “But her Ladyship don't take kindly to officials or any other bugger telling her what to do. Never fear, I'll get there eventually. Now let's head off upstairs and I'll get you that pint.”

Hadn't mentioned a pint, but like I say, he's a pearl among landlords.

I supped my ale and he had a half to keep me company. I really weren't worried about what Daph had said to me, so it were more just to make conversation that I said, “Lady D a nervous type, is she?”

“You're joking,” he said. “Not a nerve in her body. When she were out with the hunt, she were famous for taking hedges and walls a lot of the men balked at.”

“Gave it up, but, didn't she?”

“Aye, well, I suppose the sight of your husband with his head looking down his spine might seem like a bit of a warning. But it weren't nerves—she just enjoys life too much to want to leave it early.”

“So what's she like to work for then?” I asked.

“Easy enough, so long as you do things her way,” he said. “As you'll likely find out if you stay around long enough. Unless you go over to the other side.”

I thought he meant die, and I said, “I don't look that bad, do I?”

He grinned and said, “No, sorry! What I mean is, one way or another most folk in Sandytown are either working for Lady Denham or they're working for Tom Parker.”

I said, “But they're on the same side, aren't they?”

He said, “I think you'll find Tom's working for the town, but Daphne's only working for herself. Best not to get involved if you can avoid it. Get well soon, and leave! Now I'd best get back down to the spiders. If you fancy another one, draw it yourself, okay?”

A pearl among landlords, did I say? A prince, I meant!

Any road, Mildred, that's been the story of my day so far, that's how I've ended up here at ten of the clock in the morning, talking to thee, with a pint in my belly, a shag on my conscience, and a tale of attempted murder on my mind.

What's the rest of the day got in store?

Nowt! Get well and leave, said Alan Hollis. That's beginning to sound like good advice. Don't get involved, Dalziel. Forget everything that happened this morning, Daph and Pet both. Pet's not going to blab. She may be willing to open her legs for Fester's sake, but she's not going to tell him that! As for Daph, likely she's just another dippy old woman. Best steer well clear. She ended by inviting me to this barbecue she's having tomorrow. Everyone's coming, she said. Well, not me! No, I've learned my lesson. Keep to yourself, eat your greens, do your physio, keep your flies buttoned tight, lock your door at night, and in another week you'll be fit enough to go home.

There you are, Mildred. No need to be ashamed of me.

I'm a changed man!

Now I think it's time for that second pint.