?8i for a week's stay directed to the account of Mr and Mrs A.H. Dalziel. Little was known, or perhaps self-preservation ensured little was said, about Dalziel's ex-wife. But Ellie, noting the date on the bill, declared, 'This must have been their honeymoon! And he's kept the book he stole by his bed all these years. How romantic!' and immediately went out and bought a second-hand copy. Pascoe had tried to read it but gave up after a couple of chapters so had to be content with his wife's psychological exegesis. All this flitted across his mind, plus an epiphanic revelation of the significance of that second initial which he'd never known the Fat Man use anywhere else as he heard Urquhart say, 'Don't know it, Hamish. What's it about?' 'About the eruption of Vesuvius that destroyed the city way back in Roman times.' 'Well, that fits with all that stuff about lava later on. And the Julius Caesar quote might suggest that a tyrant is about to be overthrown .. .' 'Hang on,' said Pascoe. 'These aren't the Wordman's words but what Follows and Bird said to each other.' 'We only have the Wordman's word for that,' said Urquhart. 'And I did say might suggest. I'm just trying to strike a few ideas here. On a bit. "Middle step, lava", done that. Ah yes, the para about them getting down to it in the water. Bit of excitement here. No moral disapproval, I'd agree with Pottle there, but I think the Wordman got a wee bittie titillation here, maybe. "Like a full-acorned boar, a German one . .."' He looked invitingly at Dalziel who said, 'Nay, lad. Tha's had all the help tha's going to get from me. I don't keep pups and yap.' 'Shakespeare again. Cymbeline. Posthumus imagines the suppositious coupling of his wife, Imogen, with her alleged lover, lachimo.' 'Like a mll-acorned boar, eh?' savoured Dalziel. 'Not bad. So what do you make of that, dominie?' Urquhart grinned at the appellation and said, 'Fuck all. On we go. Para starting "Like a surgeon", note the little play on hand and foot. This cunt really lives in a world where words and their relationships mean more than people and theirs. "Questing vole" is a bit odd ...' 'Evelyn Waugh,' said Pascoe. 'Oh, her,' said Dalziel. 'Feather-footed through the plashy fen passes the questing vole. Scoop,' said Pascoe. 'Significant?' wondered Urquhart. 'It's parodic. And of course comic. I suppose it reinforces what you said about the Wordman's preference of words to people. Yet wasn't there in the first couple of Dialogues anyway some sense of genuine, I don't know, almost affection for Mr Ainstable and young Pitman?' They all considered for a moment then Novello said, 'Maybe the difference was, he didn't know them. Not personally.' This was her first contribution. She really didn't look well, thought Pascoe, determined that she was going to be dispatched home the minute this lot was over. Hat Bowler checked out his colleague's pallor with less sympathetic eyes. What the ruck was she doing here anyway? he asked himself. This case was his big chance to establish himself firmly as a player in the Holy Trinity's game and he didn't care to see an old favourite coming up on the rails. But you don't shoot old favourites down, not in public anyway.
He said brightly, 'That's right. He seems to have got started on this by chance. But after those two, all the others seem to be connected in some way, either with the investigation or with the library. How about if he knew the others and had reasons for not caring about them?' 'Or reasons for not letting his acquaintance with them get in the way of killing them. Word-play, jokes, quotation can be useful distancing devices,' said Pottle. Dalziel made a noise like an old iron pier undermined by the suck of the sea and said wistfully, 'Are we near done?' 'Not quite. The best is still to be,' said Urquhart. 'Last prose para. Thought you might have had something to say about this, Pozzo.' 'His sense of peace, you mean? His belief that he is invulnerable, invincible? I hardly feel it necessary to point out the obvious. As I've said before, eventually it is this belief that he can tell us anything about himself and his purposes with no risk of either
383 prevention or detection that will be his downfall. But of course we need your linguistic skills, Dr Urquhart, to interpret these nods and winks.' 'Well, thank you kindly. OK, the wee bit of verse at the end, it's a riddle of course. Right wee Jimmy riddler, this guy. And when you find answers, they usually just ask more questions.' 'Which is what the press out there are waiting to do,' said Trimble sourly. Poor old Clan, thought Pascoe. He came along hoping that rabbits were going to plucked from hats by the burrowload. Instead, the end of the expert evidence is in sight and he doesn't feel he's even glimpsed a vanishing rump! 'Aye, well, if the guid Lord had gi'en us the airt to see the morn today, we'd all be farting through silk, as my auld Kirkcaldy grannie used to say. But dinna despair. Pozzo's right, he's giving us clues and I'm the boy to grasp 'em. Anything strike you about this wee doggerel?' They all looked at their copies of the Dialogue, then Bowler and Novello said simultaneously, 'The print,' and looked at each other speculatively. 'That's right. The print. All them capitals. Could they mean something, I asked myself,' said Urquhart. 'Like he's a lousy typist,' said Dalziel. 'Not anywhere else, he's not,' said Urquhart. 'No, I reckon this is a chronogram.' He looked around triumphantly. The returned gazes were blank. 'A chronogram,' he explained, 'is a piece of writing in which certain letters are made to stand out to express a relevant date or epoch. Mostly it used Roman numerals because of course they , are expressed in letters. For example, Gustavus Adolphus, the ; Swedish king killed during the Thirty Years War, had a medal ; struck to commemorate a victory in 1632 with this inscription.' He went to the drywipe board and wrote:
ChrIstVs DVX: ergo trIVMphVs :i
'Which of course means .. .' '' He paused expectantly, playing up to the dominie role that ; Dalziel had mocked him with. 'With Christ in charge, we'd solve this in no time,' said Novello pertly. They all laughed, even Trimble, and Urquhart flashed her the louche smile which probably pulled any number of female students, thought Hat maliciously. 'That'll do nicely,' said the linguist. 'Now, think Roman numerals and check out the upper case letters. In Latin inscriptions, U's are normally printed as V's of course. Which gives us ' he wrote 100+1+5+500+5+10+1+5+1000+5 - 'which equals 1632. This also works in English. A famous example is ...' He wrote again.
LorD haVe MerCIe Vpon Vs
'Add this up and you will see we get 1666. The reference incidentally isn't to the Great Fire but to the^other great event which Dryden celebrates in his Annus Mirabilis, the naval warfare between Britain and Holland.' It was interesting, thought Pascoe. The more he got into his teaching mode, the less marked his Scots accent became. 'This one uses U's as V's too, though it's not in Latin,' said Wield. 'A licence carried over from the craft of lapidary inscription,' said Urquhart. 'Before they got power tools, it was a lot easier for masons to carve straight lines and angles than curves. Our Wordman, however, is a purist. In his triplet, only Vs count numerically. And you will note that as in all the best chronograms every numerically significant letter is capitalized and therefore counts. It's much easier if you just pick out those that add up to the sum you want. Anyway, let's see what we have.' He wrote:
1+5+1+1+5+50+1+500+500+1+1+1+500+1+5+1+1+1 = 1576
'Well, there you go,' he said complacently, returning to his seat. They all sat looking at the board like Belshazaar's courtiers staring at the wall. 'And that's it?' said Andy Dalziel. 'Unless my arithmetic's wrong.' 'But what the fuck does it mean?'
385 'Hey, man, I'm just the language man, you're the fucking detectives. But when he says "a date I have", I take that to mean with his next victim, so 1576 has got to be some kind of pointer.' 'I'm sorry, my history's pretty lousy,' said Peter Pascoe. 'Did anything significant happen in 1576?' 'I expect shit happened, it usually does,' said Urquhart indiffer- '| ently. 'Look, that's it for me. Unless you've got any questions I ' can answer, I've got a lecture to give.' I 'I too have promises to keep,' said Pottle. 'So unless there islj anything else . ..' 'Else!7 echoed Dalziel under his breath but not that far. Pascoe looked around the room then said, 'No that looks like it for now. Again, many many thanks, both. I'll be in touch. And' of course, if anything occurs to you, don't hesitate to contact me at any time.' The two academics left. After an uncomfortable moment, the Chief Constable s
aid, 'Well, that solves at least one problem,, Andy. Now we can get down to all those details of advanced investigative techniques and likely suspects you didn't want to share with civilians.' 'Right,' said the Fat Man. 'Peter?' Well, thanks a bunch, thought Pascoe. He said, 'Sir, we're throwing everything at this. Forensic, com-'i puter records, plus all the manpower we can muster interviewing 8 everyone who got within half a mile of the library yesterday'; evening. All the library security tapes and all the tapes from every- . where else in the shopping precinct are being gone over inch by], inch. And as you've seen with Dr Pottle and Dr Urquhart, we're i drawing on every kind of outside help we can think of.' ; 'Suspects?' said Trimble. ;| 'Yes, sir. Immediately upon establishing that a crime had been committed last night, we sent officers to ascertain the whereabouts and movements of the three men we have in the frame.' I 'Who are...?' | Pascoe drew a deep breath and said, 'Charley Penn, Franny: Roote, Dick Dee.' j The Chief Constable had to know there were no others, yet' he still managed to look disappointed. 'I see,' he said. 'So after eight deaths your thinking doesn't take;
j86 you past this trio whom I understand you have already looked very closely at. Charley Penn, the nearest thing we have in the area to a media celebrity. And Franny Roote, in whom I gather you have a strong personal interest, Mr Pascoe. And Dick Dee, the man who was instrumental in getting us to take this matter seriously in the first place.' He raised his eyebrows at Pascoe who felt like saying, 'Well, thank you kindly, sir, for pointing out the sodding obvious to us poor dumb detectives. Now why don't you piss off back to your big office and leave us to get on with our underpaid jobs?' Instead he said mildly, 'The Wordman too is a media celebrity. And I have a strong professional interest in Mr Roote. As for Dee, fire investigators advise taking a close look at the guy who reports the fire, also the main man on the spot when you arrive.' Trimble considered this, seemed to spot the subtext, smiled faintly and said, 'I do hope we're not anticipating arson attacks too. Any joy when you checked them out?' 'Nothing positive. But none of them had a firm alibi for the early part of the evening.' 'Well, that's something, I suppose. Though, come to think of it, I don't think I've got a firm alibi either.' Trimble stood up suddenly and the others rose too. 'I won't keep you back from your work any longer. I don't need to impress on any of you how urgent it is we bring this business to a rapid and satisfactory conclusion, just as I didn't need our local Member of Parliament impressing it on me this morning. Andy, be sure to keep me up to speed on progress, won't you?' 'Anything happens, you'll be the first to know,' assured the Fat Man. As the door closed behind the Chief, they all slumped back into their chairs and studied the floor and/or ceiling as if in hope that someone else was going to burst forth with an inspired insight. Finally Dalziel said, 'Nowt for it, we're going to have to arrest Clan. You heard him say he hadn't got an alibi. Unless young Bowler can help us out.' 'Sir?' 'Well, you're sitting there pursing your lips like a cat's arsehole. It's either wind or words that are trying to get out. So do we listen or duck?'
387 'Sorry, sir. I was just looking at that date he wrote on the board - 1576. Seems it ought to mean something to me.' 'Oh aye? You got 0-level history?' 'I took it,' said Hat evasively. 'Good enough. You bugger off down to the library and check out everything that happened in that year. If you do nowt else, you'll be letting Dee and likely Charley Penn too know we've got the message.' Doing his best to conceal his delight at being given an excuse to see Rye, Hat made for the door. But his joy was pricked a little when Dalziel called after him, 'And make sure that's the only date that's on your mind in yon library. Young women can seriously damage a young detective's career.' The Fat Man winked at Pascoe then said, 'How about you, Ivor? Owt strike you?' 'Sorry, sir, were you talking to me?' said Novello with a histri onic little start. It had taken her some time to find out why Dalziel called her Ivor and when she did, she affected an isn't-it-sad indifference to yet another example of male infantilism. But secretly, particularly after the correct Pascoe's injunction to all others against using this sobriquet left the Fat Man as its sole source, she had to admit a certain pleasure in being so singled out. After all, when Samuel heard God calling him in the Temple, he didn't retort sourly, 'It's Mr Samuel to you.' 'That bullet sent you deaf as well? Christ, you look terrible. Time you went home.' It occurred to her to suggest that if looking terrible were reason for sending people home, Dalziel and Wield would never leave the house, but of course she didn't. Truth was she didn't feel too clever but admitting it in this company wasn't an option. 'There was something,' she said. 'The coin in Bird's mouth. But there wasn't one in Follows. Maybe the Wordman didn't mind Bird getting over the Styx to heaven, but disliked Follows so much, he wanted to keep on hurting him beyond the grave.' Pascoe nodded approvingly. The smart bastard's been there already, thought Novello, but doesn't reckon there's much in it. The smart bastard said, 'It's a thought, though of course we should be careful not to confuse the classical underworld with a Christian heaven. And it still leaves us with the problem of the dollar sign.' 'The almighty dollar, maybe?' suggested Novello. 'Could be the Wordman thinks that hell is something like America.' Pascoe grinned, showing real amusement. Made a nice change from the patronizing encouragement of his smile, thought Novello. Though, paradoxically, she felt encouraged enough to add, 'I've got this feeling that while the coin might somehow represent the middle step he refers to, the dollar sign has got a significance to do with the choice of victim. I read through all the Dialogues and there was that other instance of scratching something on the head, Councillor Steel, wasn't it? Only one step there, so far as we can make out, so what did the scratching mean?' 'RIP in Cyrillic script, wasn't it?' said Pascoe. 'A joke, it looked like, given he was called Cyril. The Wordman likes a joke, particularly if it's to do with words.' 'Yes, sir. That's something we shouldn't forget, isn't it? We should never lose sight of the words, any words, when we're dealing with the Wordman. I mean, words aren't just useful labels. Like in religion, when you speak certain words, things happen or are supposed to happen. Magic too. Or in some cultures, you don't tell people your special name because names are more than labels, they are actually you in a special way. I'm sorry, I'm not putting this very well. What I'm saying is that words, maybe a special arrangement of words, seem to have a special significance to the Wordman, each word marks a step forward, and sometimes he can link separate words to individuals and then they get killed, but maybe sometimes he links more than one word to an individual and then we get only one corpse but a trinity of steps, like he says in the Dialogue where he describes killing Lord PykeStrengler.'
She paused, wondering, Am I babbling? Dalziel was certainly looking at her as if he reckoned she was delirious. She got help from an unexpected source. Wield said, 'You mean his reason for chopping the Hon.'s head off could be something to do with words, with these steps you're talking about, rather than with the Wordman's state of mind. External, not internal?'
389 a 'That's right,' she said. 'Like he thought, all right, I've got a body, that's a step. Now if I do this and this with it, that would be another two steps. He's eager to be moving forward along this path he keeps talking about and when something like this occurs, whatever it was, of course he puts it down to divine intervention or something.' 'So what are you suggesting?' asked Pascoe. 'Maybe instead of concentrating on clues in the conventional sense, we should start collecting words. Listing them in every way, we can until one of the lists makes some kind of sense.' , 'Examples, please,' said Pascoe encouragingly. | Dalziel would have growled, 'Money where your mouth is, luv; | else keep it zipped.' She felt that she would have preferred that, then glanced at him, saw his expression, and changed her mind; 'Well, Pyke-Strengler's body was found in the stream, right,; and his head in a fishing basket in his boat. So words like stream, '"i water, beck, brook, river, and boat, basket .. . wickerwork ..., creel. ..' She was starting to feel very tired and these swirling ideas which i had seemed on the verge of coalescing into something solid were j beginning to dissipate like
morning mist, but she pressed on. ,' 'And this latest, Bird and ... whatsisname . . . words like coin i .. . and dollar .. . and money ...' / She felt something like a sob gathering in her throat and tailed i off into silence because it seemed a better alternative. ' Dalziel and Pascoe exchanged glances then the Fat Man said, i 'Ivor, that's grand. You keep working on that, eh? I really appreci ate you coming in like this, and the Chief'11 have noted it too. Now I reckon it's time you headed off home for a bit of a rest.' Cue to say, No, I feel fine, but speech felt even more treacherous in face of this lumbering sympathy, so instead she stood up, nodded curtly, and made it out of the door without a wobble. Dalziel said, 'Wieldy, see she's all right. Don't know what you were thinking of, Pete, pressing her like that when she's still convalescing.' ' 'Hang about,' said Pascoe indignantly. 'It wasn't my idea having her here.' 'Wasn't it? All right. Back to the case. What other ideas are ;j| you not having?' 'Keep banging away at Penn, Roote and Dee, I suppose.' 'Sound like a firm of dodgy solicitors. That it?' 'Yup. Sorry. How about you, sir?' The?' Dalziel yawned widely and scratched his crotch like it had offended him. 'Think I'll go home and read a good book.' And I can guess which one it's likely to be, Hamish, thought Pascoe. But being a sensitive man, with a wife, child, child's dog, and mortgage to support, he didn't say it.
Dialogues of the Dead Page 38