Midnight Fugue (dalziel and pascoe)

by Reginald Hill

  ‘Nothing important,’ snapped the DCI. ‘Just that Novello’s out of danger, if that’s of any interest to you.’

  He was immediately sorry for his shortness as the Fat Man sank on to the bed as if his legs had lost the strength to hold him.

  ‘Thank Christ for that!’ he said with a religious fervour that could hardly have been matched by an archbishop. ‘I were starting to think…thank Christ for that.’

  It was only now that Pascoe realized just how heavily the sense of his responsibility for Novello’s plight had been weighing on his boss.

  ‘So what have you found?’ he said, trying to turn the subject.

  ‘Bugger all, so far,’ said Dalziel.

  The phone rang.

  He picked it up, listened, said, ‘You’re a star,’ and dropped the receiver back on its rest.

  ‘That were that bonny lass on reception. Think she fancies me. I got her to check if these Delays were in. Aye, don’t look surprised, did you think I was going to smash the door down single-handed? When no one replied I asked her to check the car-park video, see if she could spot the Delays going out. I just missed the bastards!’ He smashed his left fist into his right palm in frustration. ‘They must have gone out of the car park minutes afore I turned in. They were likely around when we were here before, Pete. If only I hadn’t waited till I were sure…’

  He stood up, his strength restored.

  ‘We’ll need to put out a call,’ he said. ‘Nowt yet on Gina’s car, is there?’

  ‘No. Sorry,’ said Pascoe. ‘She could be halfway back to London by now.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Dalziel. ‘Them two didn’t take off out of here to go for a little sightseeing run.’

  ‘Sir, I think you should look at this,’ said Seymour from the doorway.

  They went through into the next room.

  ‘Found this laptop stuck under the bed,’ said Seymour. ‘Thought it was just plugged in to recharge the batteries. But there’s this…’

  He turned it so they could see a map-diagram with a pulsing green spot.

  ‘That what I think it is?’ said Dalziel.

  ‘It looks like a tracking bug,’ said Pascoe.

  ‘And it’s not moving. Jesus, Pete, I bet it’s in her car, and she’s parked somewhere,’ cried the Fat Man.

  ‘Andy, you’re guessing,’ said Pascoe. ‘Let’s work out where it is and I’ll get a patrol car to take a look…’

  But he might as well have been talking to the trees. Dalziel was peering close at the screen.

  ‘Got it!’ he cried triumphantly. ‘That’s the north road, and yon’s that unclassified road that leads nowhere but a few farms and the Lost Traveller. Was a time when you really needed to be lost to call in there, but it were a good pint last time I was in. So she’s about a quarter mile down the hill beyond. Come on, we can be there in twenty minutes if we move!’

  ‘No, Andy!’ commanded Pascoe with all the stern authority he could muster. ‘Think about it. If your theory is correct-and very possibly it’s not-then there could be an armed and dangerous man out there. I’ve got an ARU on standby, I’ll whistle them up and we’ll all take a look together.’

  ‘You wha’?’ cried the Fat Man. ‘There’s a bastard out there who put my girl in hospital and he’s likely looking to do the same to yon lass Gina who came up here looking for my help, and you want me to sit on my thumbs while you follow procedure? You do what you want; you’ll know where to find me.’

  ‘Listen, Andy,’ said Pascoe seriously, ‘I can’t let you do this. It’s just a matter of minutes…’

  ‘Minutes might be all we’ve got,’ said Dalziel. ‘And, Pete, what’s all this letting business? There’ll likely come a time and place when you can tell me what to do, but it’s not here and it’s not yet. I’m off. You coming or staying?’

  Seymour, who had been watching this confrontation of giants with fascinated interest, mentally noting every phrase and inflexion for the historical record, now focused all his attention on Pascoe. Was this the moment when Spartacus threw off his chains? When Fletcher Christian put Captain Bligh in the longboat and set him adrift?

  In the event the outcome was rather lacking in drama.

  Pascoe shook his head, like a man waking from a dream, smiled wryly, even rather sadly, and said, ‘Oh, all right then. But if you get me killed, I’m not going to be the one who tells Ellie! Dennis, ring Sergeant Wield, tell him what’s going off and where, and get that ARU moving quick!’

  ‘And then,’ as Seymour was later to tell his enthralled audience, ‘they went running off down the corridor like a couple of big kids on their way to a party!’

  18.15-18.30

  Once Gina Wolfe started crying, it felt as if she could never stop.

  Alex Wolfe had made no effort to comfort her, just sat there, watching patiently.

  That told her more than anything he’d said that for him the past was dead. She wasn’t even a ghost, just a complication that threatened to damage his new life. While the barriers she had created between herself and the past had proved paper-thin, he had found a way to turn that pain into part of a process, the first chance which, though ending in disaster, left you better prepared to grasp the second if and when it came along.

  It was this realization that finally dried the physical tears, though inside she felt as if she might be crying forever.

  She began to repair her face in the rear-view mirror, taking her time as she tried to adjust to this new-found perspective. She had to try to match his apparent objectivity. If they could both walk away from this safe and sound, well and good. But if only one of them could survive, then she had to be pragmatic. This stranger and his family were nothing to her.

  She said, ‘Well, Ed, what was this stupid thing you did?’

  Using his new name was a signal to herself of what she felt was their new relationship. He showed no reaction.

  He said, ‘When I went on Gidman’s payroll, I set up an online account for the money to be paid into. Not in my own name, of course, and not using my own PC at home. Funny, as stuff started coming back to me, the details of that account and the passwords and everything, they came back bright and clear while other stuff about my actual life before I became Ed Muir was still hazy and fragmented.’

  ‘Perhaps it says something about your priorities,’ she couldn’t resist saying.

  He took her seriously and replied, ‘Yes, I think so too. The money was for Lucy’s treatment. That was always my priority. That was why I made no effort to use the account other than to establish it was still active. Spending Lucy’s money on clothes, or booze, or living expenses, it didn’t feel right.’

  How could he talk about her so calmly? she asked herself.

  Because, the answer came, he now had Lucinda.

  She thought about what he’d been willing to do for the sake of his first daughter. What lengths might he now be willing to go to in the interests of his second?

  ‘Then we had Lucinda. Naturally we got to talking about the christening. Ali didn’t really want to go over the top…’

  ‘Ali?’

  ‘My partner. Doesn’t earn a fortune. She’s a clarinettist with the Mid-Yorkshire Sinfonietta, and does a bit of tutoring too.’

  ‘A music teacher. Like me.’

  He looked surprised, as if the correspondence hadn’t previously struck him.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Don’t make anything of it. She’s very different. Small, talks a lot, quite bouncy.’

  ‘That’s supposed to make me feel better, that she’s different?’

  ‘No. I wasn’t trying to make you feel anything. Just telling you. I mean, I know all about Mick, and I’m not going to get my head in a knot because, apart from being a cop, he’s completely different from me.’

  He was right, she thought. Mick was older and in physical build, in taste, in outlook, in everything very different from Alex. Was that significant?

  She put it aside for later examination and s
aid, ‘You were saying about the christening…’

  ‘Was I? Oh yes. Me, I get a decent screw, but nowhere near enough to push the boat out the way I wanted to. Like I said earlier, it just seemed important somehow to make the christening an occasion to remember. And then I thought of that account. The way I saw things, it seemed perfectly fitting to use it to celebrate Lucinda’s day. I wouldn’t take a penny more than I needed for the christening, I thought. I had my heart set on the Keldale, they do these things so well. I got a price from them and paid in advance by transferring the exact sum direct from this account. It did cross my mind that activity after seven years lying dormant might attract attention, but it seemed a very small risk. It wasn’t as if I was clearing the account out, and the money wasn’t coming direct to me, it was going straight to the Keldale. Anyway, I was old news, who’d be interested in me after all this time?’

  He shook his head as if in disbelief at his own naivety.

  ‘And who is interested in you, Ed?’

  He said, ‘Goldie Gidman, of course. He’s the one who knew about the account. The rat pack never got anywhere near it, I’m sure. I knew enough about the way these things are investigated to make sure I covered all my tracks. But Gidman must have put a watch on that account the day I disappeared. And he’d leave an alarm set. He always was a very careful man, Goldie. Hated loose ends. That’s why it was so hard to lay a finger on him. He didn’t really need to have me on his payroll. It was just an extra precaution.’

  ‘A precaution that became a liability when the rat pack started investigating you.’

  ‘That’s right. Then after all these years suddenly the account becomes active. All he’s got is a payment to the Keldale Hotel. So what does he do? My guess is he’d send someone up here to see if they could pick up my trail. There was an attempt to break into the Keldale office last weekend. I read about it in the paper. The manager going on about how pleased he was with their new state-of-the-art security system, installed on police advice. Wouldn’t surprise me if that was down to Goldie, seeing if he could find what the payment was for. And when it failed, he thought, What do you need to lure a hunted animal out of hiding? Answer, a tethered goat.’

  She said, ‘Is that what I am? A tethered goat?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. His people would have to be careful. The way Goldie would see it, if I got the slightest whiff he was on my trail, I’d be over the hill and far away. On the other hand, I’d probably react very differently to the appearance of my wife on the scene. Incidentally, are you still my wife?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Mainly because for a long time I was hoping you’d come back,’ she said. ‘And then when I stopped believing that was a possibility, it seemed less complicated to hang on till I could become an official widow.’

  ‘Of course. Seven years, presumption of death, then you’d be entitled to everything, not just a divorcee’s share. Good thinking. Mick help you there, did he?’

  ‘No. Mick’s not mercenary, he would have preferred me divorced so we could marry straight away,’ she retorted defensively.

  For some reason this made him smile momentarily.

  She went on, ‘So you’re saying Gidman arranged to have your face put into that photo and have it sent to me? Meaning he had a photo of you. Why didn’t his people just flash it round the hotel?’

  ‘Two reasons,’ he said promptly. ‘One was it would be an old photo. I doubt if anyone would recognize me.’

  ‘I recognized you,’ she said.

  ‘Gidman’s people have never been my lover,’ he said.

  There was no regret, no vestige of affection in his tone, confirming her sense that nothing remained of their old relationship.

  ‘The other reason?’ she said.

  ‘Because they wouldn’t want to draw attention to themselves by making overt enquiries in case they couldn’t get rid of me quietly and they triggered a murder investigation. You, on the other hand, could flash the photo wherever you wanted. Stick it on lampposts, get it in the paper. They hoped someone might put you on to me. Or better still that I’d see it and make contact, and you’d lead them to me.’

  ‘That’s why you kept me sitting halfway up the hill so long,’ she said. ‘So you could make sure I wasn’t being followed.’

  ‘You’ve got it,’ he said.

  ‘And if they had followed me…you said murder investigation. You don’t really think they’d try to kill you?’ she said incredulously. ‘For God’s sake, this is Yorkshire, not New York!’

  He laughed and said, ‘You don’t imagine Goldie has gone to all this trouble because he’s been missing my lively conversation, do you? He sees me as a real danger.’

  ‘But why? What could you do? Stand up in court and allege that seven years ago you were taking bribes to keep Gidman informed of the progress of a police investigation? Could you even prove that the money in this account came from him?’

  He shrugged and said, ‘Money always leaves a trail, as I’m finding out. But that’s not the point. There’s a big bag of shit with Goldie’s name on it sitting around at the Yard. It’s mainly rumours and allegations and the CPS won’t touch it with a bargepole. But once get him in the dock, and anything goes. That was what Macavity was all about, putting together a case, any kind of case, that would get Gidman on the sharp end of a prosecution. And we might even have got there if I hadn’t kept him ahead of the game.’

  ‘That was seven years ago. He’s had another seven years to make himself safe.’

  ‘Of course he has. And I’m sure the kind of lawyers he can afford would tear my evidence to shreds. So not much chance of a conviction. But that bag of shit would have been emptied on the courtroom floor and the stink would stick to him for ever. Once he wouldn’t have cared. But from what I read, another ten years or so, and Goldie could be visiting Downing Street to see my son, the Prime Minister. I could put an end to all that. The Tories would never forgive someone who’d tracked stinking estuary mud across their lovely royal blue carpet.’

  Listening to him she was reminded of the bright, sharp-minded young cop he’d been before their daughter’s illness began to darken all aspects of their life. He could sum up situations in a flash, analyse possibilities, assess odds.

  And he was passionate for justice.

  Had that changed?

  ‘So what are you going to do? Come forward and offer to testify?’

  He exploded a laugh that was more like a bark, and not a friendly one.

  ‘Don’t be silly. I told you, I’ve got a second chance, a new life. Do you think I’m going to put it at risk by stepping back into the old one? You too, Gina. You’ve moved on, put all that dark stuff behind you. You wouldn’t want to put your new life at risk either, would you?’

  All that dark stuff… she wanted to scream at him that she knew now that all that dark stuff was part of her being forever. There was no space behind her she could ever put it.

  She said, ‘This isn’t about me. Look, Ed…Alex…I know it would be much harder for you…’

  That laugh again.

  ‘You’re right there. It wouldn’t just be Goldie who ended up on trial. I’m sure they’d promise all kinds of leniency in return for my testimony, but the public don’t like to see a bent cop going free. Trust me, Gina: it would be hard for you too-harder than you think. No, when you leave here, what you have to do is drive home, forget you ever saw me. You just decided what you were doing was pointless, someone’s idea of a joke. You’ll be safe at home.’

  Again the implications of his words took a moment to sink in.

  ‘Safe? Why wouldn’t I be safe here?’

  ‘Because when the tiger comes out of the jungle and the shooting starts, no one gives a fuck about the staked goat. They’d prefer not to involve you, of course. Much better for me to have a fatal accident, or simply vanish without trace. But if the choice was between risking losing me and blowing us both away right here, they wouldn’t thi
nk twice.’

  She stared at him for a long moment then said, ‘I think you’re trying to frighten me. Like Mick when I talked to him earlier.’

  He laughed and said, ‘Good old Mick, he’ll see the big picture. Think about it. If you’re not scared of Gidman, what about the press? I’m sure you had a taste of what those guys can get up to when I went awol. Imagine what a feast they’d make of this lot if they got a sniff of it. They’d tear you to pieces. Just think of the stories they’d make up. Wouldn’t do much for Mick’s career. As for you, I doubt if a parent anywhere would want to let her precious offspring take music lessons from a scarlet woman. So forget all of this, Gina. Go home. This hasn’t happened. I don’t exist any more.’

  ‘You’re right,’ she said quietly. ‘I thought I recognized you. I was wrong.’

  ‘Great,’ he said. ‘Tell that to the fat cop. You made a mistake. That’s your story. Stick to it and you’ll be fine.’

  ‘Even with Mick? You want me to lie to Mick too?’

  ‘Oh no,’ he said, with a smile closely related to his canine laugh. ‘No secrets between lovers. In fact, I may give dear old Mick a ring myself to put him in the picture, so it wouldn’t look good if you kept quiet, would it? You’ll have his mobile number in your phone, I expect.’

  ‘I’ve left it in the car,’ she said. ‘But I can remember the number.’

  She recited it and he copied it into his phone.

  ‘Always a good memory,’ he said admiringly. ‘Ali’s the same. Must be all that music buzzing around in your heads. A real talent, memory. Except sometimes it’s a real pain.’

  He reached over and opened her door. His arm brushed against her breast. After seven years, that’s the nearest we’ve come to intimate contact, she thought.

  ‘Goodbye, Gina,’ he said.

  ‘But what are you going to do? They won’t stop looking, will they?’

  ‘They might. You never know. Things change.’

  ‘For a man who thinks there’s a hitman after him, you don’t sound all that worried.’

  ‘You’re thinking of Alex Wolfe. He’d have been worried. I don’t think I’ve got anything to worry about if you keep your mouth shut. Goodbye.’