The wood beyond dap-15

by Reginald Hill

  'Yes, that's what I meant. Listen, I reckon it's time I met the famous Cap. Why don't you see if you can make contact with Walker's sister-in-law, the widow in Redcar, see if she'd heard anything recently? Someone ought to tell her the news anyway.'

  'I think mebbe I'll leave that to the locals,' said Wield. 'But I will have a word myself. After I've been back to Wanwood.'

  'Wanwood? Look, forget those files for the time being. We've more important fish to fry.'

  'Not the files. I wanted to have a word with Dr Batty about drug records and staff supervision. He was busy this morning so I didn't like to press.'

  Pascoe grinned and said, 'Meaning you reckon you can keep Jimmy banged up so long as you're still pursuing enquiries. When's his first twenty-four hours up? About tea time? I don't think anyone's going to give you an extension.'

  'Me neither,' said Wield. 'How's Ellie?'

  'Fine. Why?'

  'Walker was a mate, wasn't she? And from what she told us yesterday, it strikes me she could easily start blaming herself.'

  The same thought had occurred to Pascoe the previous night, but there'd been little sign of breast-beating from his wife so he'd thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie. Wield's concern still came as a reproach.

  'She's fine. I'm just going to give her a ring actually.'

  The phone was answered on the second ring as if Ellie had been expecting a call.

  He said, 'Hi, love. How are you?'

  'Pretty well. Anything happening?'

  'Just proceeding with enquiries. Which means that Cap's spent most of the morning with her solicitor while we've been checking everything twice.'

  'And?'

  'And she's still in the frame. Good news is, Andy's out of it. I'm in charge now.'

  'Good God. What did you use? A bulldozer?'

  'He went like a lamb. You sure you're OK?'

  'Yes. Well, still a bit numb. Listen, if you're worried I think it's all my fault, well I do, a bit. But I'm not sure how much till you idle sods find out what really happened. Like the man said, guilt without responsibility is the prerogative of the masochist throughout the ages. And while I don't mind a bit of biting by way of erotic arousal, I draw the line at the whip. But I'm glad you rang. I've just had Poll Pollinger on the line.'

  'Oh yes. Any luck?'

  'Well she's seen the file on the court martial, but says that her pet colonel reckoned the Ministry of D would make whatever she can do to him seem painless if he let her make photocopies. What she did though was make pretty comprehensive notes of the things she thought you'd want to know. Even these are a bit risky and she wanted to make sure that either you or I were around before she faxed them here. Even as we speak the modern marvel which turns your house into a litter bin is starting to talk. Hang on a sec. I'll just check to make sure it is Poll's notes and not some double-glazing hand-out.'

  There was a pause then she resumed. 'Yes, it is. "Field General Court Martial of Sergeant Peter Pascoe convened at Zillebeke November 1917, Officer Presiding-"'

  'Yes, fine,' interrupted Pascoe. 'I'll see it all later. Not sure when. If I'm going to be late, I'll try to let you know…'

  'Hang on, Peter. Before you go. That chap who called the other night, the rather charming military gent with bits missing. What was his name?'

  'Studholme. Major Hilary Studholme. Why?'

  'Well, just a coincidence perhaps, but your great-granddad's Prisoner's Friend, which Poll glosses as untrained defence counsel, is down here as Captain Thomas Hilary Studholme of the West Yorkshire Fusiliers. Interesting, huh?'

  For a moment Pascoe was back in the museum mock-up of the front-line trench with the lifelike dummy reclining on the camp bed, open on his breast a copy of The Wood Beyond the World inscribed To Hillie with love from Mummy.

  'Peter, you still there?'

  'Yes,' he said. 'I am. And you're right. Very interesting indeed.'

  When Wield arrived at Wanwood, Des Patten was waiting for him.

  'What's the word on Jimmy Howard?' he asked.

  'Helping with enquiries,' said Wield.

  'You gonna do him for drugs? No, don't look like that. It's not a guilty secret. Tony Beasley gave the captain a bell.'

  'So much for client confidentiality. Would it bother you if we did?'

  'I'd have to hire a replacement.'

  'So, not personally?'

  Patten shrugged.

  'I hate to see anyone getting into bother, but there's bother and bother. Like in the mob, one of your men gets himself in trouble for nutting some short-changing barman or shagging some local scrubber, you rally round, send him on a course, say he was on guard duty that night. He gets in bother with stealing a mate's dosh, or flogging his ring down the park, then that's it. He's out, and good riddance.'

  'How about a drugs charge?'

  'Out. In both cases. In the mob, no one wants a hop-head backing you up.'

  'And in TecSec?'

  'We're very particular. Get a criminal record and it's goodbye.'

  'Not bothered by driving over the limit though? Or driving without a licence?'

  Patten frowned.

  'Over the limit can happen to anyone,' he said. 'But not having a licence… that's plain stupid. I didn't know. We sometimes do driving jobs. That could have got us in big bother.'

  'He's got himself in it, certainly. But the way it's looking, that might be all he's facing. No way your clever young brief's going to get him off that.'

  'Beasley was the captain's idea. Very paternalistic, the captain. Good quality in an officer, getting close to the men. That's why they have NCOs to make sure they don't take it too far.'

  'Like with Rosso?'

  Dalziel had passed on Piers Pitt-Evenlode's revelations about Buster Sanderson's interesting military career.

  'What's that mean?' said Patten, very alert.

  'Just that he must have been very upset by the accident.'

  'He was,' said Patten. 'Very upset. Dr Batty's waiting for you. I'd tread careful. He's not in a very good mood today.'

  He turned smartly on his heel and marched away.

  Dismissed, thought Wield.

  Batty jumped up from his armchair as Wield entered the staff sitting room. He looked pale and drawn as if he hadn't slept much last night.

  'Sergeant,' he said running his hand through his soft brown hair. 'What's all this about Jane Ambler?'

  'Do you use ketamine hydrochloride in your labs, sir?' said Wield.

  'K? Why yes. Sometimes. What's that got to do with anything?'

  'What do you use it for, sir?'

  'As a relaxant. In certain circumstances as an anaesthetic. It was developed by the Americans for veterinary purposes initially, and because our experimental animals are used in tests which can involve anything from new drugs to surgery we have to have available a wide variety of control techniques so we can be quite sure whatever tests we're conducting on a new drug, say, aren't being affected by an existing drug…'

  'I'm with you,' said Wield. 'So would it be possible for you to check your supplies of K and see if any is missing?'

  'How much are we talking?'

  'Twelve capsules.'

  Batty shook his head in irritation as if Wield had said something stupid.

  Who's been rattling his cage? wondered the sergeant.

  'We make up our own capsules here if we need them, so it's not just a matter of counting. Twelve, you say? Couple of grams tops. Well, we'd know of course how much has been used and where it's been used. But if anyone cared to change the proportions slightly, or if a spillage was reported…’

  'Spillage? What do you mean?'

  'For heaven's sake, don't you speak English?' snapped Batty. 'These are animals we are dealing with here, sergeant. Some of them quite large and strong. They don't all just lie there and take it, you know. Quite often there will be some wastage as we administer a dosage. Of course then we start again from scratch. A spillage will be sluiced away, not swept up and used a
gain.'

  He gave a little shudder as though offended by the thought.

  'Very hygienic, I'm sure,' murmured Wield. 'Can we take a look?'

  They took a look. The records and the amount of the drug remaining checked exactly. There were however three reported spillages involving Jane Ambler.

  'Butterfingers,' said Wield.

  'Even these amounts wouldn't be enough for twelve capsules,' objected Batty.

  'Then mebbe she put a bit aside for herself whenever she used the drug,' said Wield.

  'But that might have had an effect on some of our experiments!' said Batty indignantly.

  'I assume, if it were being used as an anaesthetic, it wouldn't have been very pleasant for the poor animals either,' retorted Wield.

  Batty eyed him narrowly.

  'Sergeant Wield, I assure you we have the very highest regard for the welfare of our animals. Now before we go further I insist you tell me what precise evidence you have against Miss Ambler or any other member of my staff.'

  'Not enough to bring charges, not yet,' Wield replied. 'But enough to make me suggest, sir, that you take a very thorough inventory of the drugs in your care and review your security procedures in respect of them.'

  It sounded pretty neutral to him but Batty was clearly at the end of his short fuse.

  He said harshly, 'I don't need you to tell me how to run my labs, sergeant. Not when you can't organize a piss-up in your own brewery.'

  'Don't follow, sir,' said Wield, conventionally stolid.

  'You're acting like you're one hundred per cent sure that a crime's been committed here but you're telling me there's nothing you can do about it,' he sneered. 'What a way to run a police force! Well, if you can't act, I can. Good day to you, sergeant.'

  He turned and marched away.

  Dismissed again, thought Wield.

  As he unlocked his car, Patten reappeared, smiling.

  'Warned you not to upset the doc, didn't I? He can be really vindictive.'

  'How do you know what I've been doing?'

  'Watching you on closed-circuit of course. It's all right, it's not wired for sound but I could tell you weren't whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Look, I should mebbe have warned you, you could be on a hiding to nothing bad-mouthing Miss Frigidaire. They're very close, know what I mean?'

  He gave an exaggerated pelvic thrust.

  Wield looked at him in surprise. He hadn't got the feeling that Batty felt particularly protective to Jane Ambler. On the contrary.

  'How do you know this?' he asked.

  'The old CCTV again. Like Nixon and them tapes, you get so used to a thing you forget it's still working even when you don't want it. Saw them at it right there where they keep the animals. Makes you wonder who should be in cages, doesn't it?'

  'No competition. This system, was it running the night those women ran wild?'

  'Sure.'

  'Why'd you not mention it?'

  'Why the hell should I? No crime, no damage, no charges, what's to mention? If you'd asked you could have seen it. And don't say you didn't know. The cameras are there for all to see and you've seen the monitors.'

  'Fair point. Like to see it now but if it's not been wiped.'

  'We do a five-day cycle so you should be just in time. Anything in particular?'

  'When you cornered Marvell and she looked set to take a swing with the wire cutters.'

  'You keep on about that. Why so interested? There was no harm done.'

  'Not this time.'

  It was a silly thing to say. The old silent Wield wouldn't have let it slip. The sweet relaxing air of Enscombe wasn't all beneficial.

  He could see Patten's sharp mind working.

  'This time… er, you're never trying to tie that old bird in with that poor devil those bastards topped at Fraser Greenleaf?'

  He laughed his derision out loud.

  'Suppose that old bird had taken a swing,' said Wield. 'And your head had got in the way?'

  Patten considered and his expression became serious.

  'Yeah, well, she's certainly got the upper-body development to get that thing moving… and there was a moment when I thought she was going to have a go for sure… but look, there has to be something else behind all this. I mean, you can piss around with the likes of Jimmy Howard because it suits you, but someone who talks like her. ..'

  It was a crude but not altogether inaccurate analysis of what Pascoe would call the social dynamic of police investigation.

  Wield said carefully, 'We should have checked the TV tapes earlier. That was an oversight. All I'm doing now is covering my back. And I would be particularly interested if you could watch with me and try to recall exactly what was being said.'

  'Always keen to cooperate with the police, sergeant,' said Patten. 'Let's go take a look.' xiv

  'If a condemned man has bad toothache on the eve of his execution, what does he spend the night thinking about?'

  'Sorry, Peter?' said Lionel Harris. 'Is this relevant?'

  'Oh yes,' said Pascoe. Doubly so. First, it dramatized his own dilemma in that ever since his conversation with Ellie, despite being landed with an inquiry which looked like tying in Andy Dalziel with a double killer, all he could think of was Hilary Studholme, junior and senior. He recalled his feeling the night the major called round that the man had had more to say, or not to say. Would he have come running so quickly merely to confirm that the Sergeant Pascoe his father had so unsuccessfully defended was Ada's father if that was all he knew? And why hadn't he mentioned his own family involvement?

  No, there had to be more. There might be a clue in Poll Pollinger's digest, but Pascoe guessed it was going to take another trip to the regimental museum to get to the real bottom of this.

  On a quieter day he might have bunked off, but today he owed it to Dalziel to keep his nose to the grindstone. If only he could keep his mind there too!

  Then he'd been told that Cap Marvell's brief wanted a word and when he saw who it was, he'd known he needed all his wits about him.

  Lionel Harris, familiarly known as 'Bomber', might be greyer round the temples and roomier round the waist than on their first encounter many years ago, but he was still the same sharp little man who'd made Pascoe look a twit (and without him noticing it!) on the young DC's very first appearance in a Mid-Yorkshire court.

  So he chucked his disguised dilemma at the solicitor's head in an effort to wrong-foot him as soon as he came through the door.

  'I've never come across a case of suicide while the balance of the molars was disturbed, so I assume that on the whole the greater fear would dominate the lesser pain.'

  'I wonder,' said Pascoe thoughtfully. 'Still, it's always good to get a legal perspective. So how can I help you, Lionel?'

  They had become friends, or at least, friendly foes over the years. But each knew the other had a different bottom line.

  'I just wanted a word, off the record, about the position of my client, Amanda Marvell. You know how I hate making an official fuss

  …'

  'Oh yes. Printed in block capitals on the file we keep on you,' murmured Pascoe. 'Hates making a fuss.'

  ‘.. but in this case my client has cooperated fully. Nay, in my opinion she has cooperated to excess, making no complaint when she was kept in custody overnight, offering no threat of action for false imprisonment, refusing to let news of her maltreatment be released to the media, quietly answering all your questions, and enduring with restraint and dignity all the indignities heaped upon her. But enough is enough – '

  'There we have no argument,' interrupted Pascoe. 'In fact, I doubt if I've ever heard you say a truer word. Enough is indisputably enough. But as I'm in charge of this case, it would seem a dereliction of my duty if I let Ms Marvell go without personally ascertaining that everything has been done by the book.'

  'I'm sorry?' said Harris, alert. 'You say you're in charge, Peter? I thought Mr Dalziel…'

  'Disqualified himself immediately on the grounds o
f personal involvement,' said Pascoe. 'But because he and Ms Marvell know each other socially, I thought it might make matters less stressful for her if she spoke to the superintendent to start with, under my supervision of course. I hope Ms Marvell hasn't found anything to upset her in this mode of procedure?'

  'Well no,' said Harris who Pascoe guessed had been saving up his complaint about Dalziel's involvement as a final body blow. That he would know about the relationship, Pascoe was sure. From what Ellie had told him there had been too many of Mid-Yorkshire's great and good at the university party for Cap Marvell's escort not to have set their collective imagination reeling.

  'Good. Then let's have the lady in, shall we?'

  He had seen her distantly before, but never spoken to her. Close up, he found her rather heavy features, untouched by make-up after her night in the cell, disappointed any expectation he had of sharing Dalziel's sense of attraction. OK, she had great knockers if your fancy erred towards field sports, but she didn't light his touchpaper.

  'I'm sorry if I'm a disappointment,' she said. 'But at least we neither of us can be accused of concealment, can we?'

  He felt himself blushing. It was as if she'd overheard his pathetically macho thoughts. She'd certainly read his reaction on his face.

  'I do hope not,' he managed in recovery. 'In fact, to make absolutely sure, I'd like to go over one or two things with you once more.'

  Her steady wide-eyed gaze reminded him of someone; Miss Martindale, that was who. No other resemblance of age, figure or colouring, but that same sense of being in the presence of someone whose actions were based on rock hard certainties. Would Miss Martindale take a swing at anyone she felt was in the way of her duty to her pupils? Metaphorically, without doubt. Literally? If the kids were locked in cages and being experimented upon, yes, very probably. But the parallel was inexact. You couldn't compare kids and animals. Like Rosie, he might be tempted to hurl a stone at someone beating a dog, but it would take someone beating Rosie to turn him homicidal.

  'You have a son, Ms Marvell,' he said.

  'Yes.'

  'I don't see what my client's family has to do with this,' said Harris.

  'Really? But you must be aware that Colonel Pitt-Evenlode provides the alibi for one of the dates we're interested in? Surely you don't object to my referring to witnesses?'