A pinch of snuff

'Mrs Shorter,' he said.

'Please call me Emma. I don't feel up to formalities at the moment. I'm so grateful to you for coming.'

She gave him a grateful smile and he disliked himself for seeking calculation in it. But there was no denying the reality of the strain she must be under.

'I can only stay a couple of minutes,' said Pascoe. 'I just wanted to say hello. I was a bit worried, you know.'

And not without cause, he thought. Suddenly he saw himself in the witness-box being led on to make broader and broader claims about Shorter's probity and basic decency, while Dalziel glowered at him from behind the prosecutor.

'We have a good life together, you know,' said the woman, turning away abruptly as if he'd somehow disappointed her.

'Yes, yes, I'm sure you do,' agreed Pascoe, looking round the room which, notwithstanding its lack of appeal, had obviously cost a few gold fillings.

'No. I don't just mean money,' she said acidly.

'I mean, every way. Physically we have a good life.'

Pascoe sipped his whisky. He lacked Dalziel's discriminatory nose but it tasted expensive.

'Yes,' he said, seeing that a response was expected and thinking a bare affirmative, ludicrous though it might be, was the least he could offer.

'There would be no need for John to… I'd say so in court if I had to.'

She spoke defiantly.

'Good, good,' said Pascoe. 'Let's hope it doesn't come to that.'

He observed Emma over his glass and wondered cynically if their solicitor had planted these seeds. Dalziel had met her last night and his first impression had been like Pascoe's – a cold, self-contained woman. By lunch-time today she had begun to crack, and now here she was in the evening offering to reveal details of her sex life in her husband's defence.

Shorter re-entered.

'I've left the sprinkler on,' he said. 'It might do some good. Let's stiffen that for you, Peter. What's new from the Inquisition?'

'Just a social call, Jack,' said Pascoe evenly.

'Your man, Dalziel, was round again this afternoon,' said Shorter. 'I saw him this time. Not a social call.'

'I didn't know,' bed Pascoe. 'I mean, I knew someone would be round to talk to you, but I didn't know Mr Dalziel had been again.'

'Oh, I thought you might have cooked something up over your lunch-time beer,' said Shorter.

So Emma had told him about her approach earlier that day. Or perhaps it had all been done by collusion. There were situations where it became important to react as normal ordinary people would react – or rather, would expect you to react.

Whatever the truth, it didn't make Shorter any more or less suspect.

'There are other crimes to investigate, Jack,' said Pascoe.

'No doubt. Glad you could drag yourself away.'

'John!' protested his wife. 'We're very grateful to you for coming, Inspector… Peter. We need friends at a time like this.'

'Yes,' said Pascoe, using the non-committal affirmative again. 'How've things been today? No other trouble?'

'Other?' said Shorter.

'I'd call that mess on your lawn trouble,' said Pascoe. 'You haven't had any phone calls? Either nasty or the Press?'

'Same thing,' said Shorter.

'Not so,' said Pascoe. 'If Burkill's been on to the papers, they'll just be doing some preliminary sniffing. You can't blame them, but they won't – daren't – print mere speculation. I'd be friendly, but say as little as you can, and tell your solicitor. He'll know how to make sure they keep the top screwed on if it's necessary. As for the other kind of approach, well, you've found out already how this kind of case soon works up a fine head of indignation.'

'Are you trying to frighten us?' said Shorter.

'Somebody else might, that's all I'm saying. A phone call, a letter. It's best to be prepared.'

'People are vile!' exclaimed Emma Shorter.

'But not all the time, fortunately,' said Pascoe.

He fell silent now and sipped his drink. He would have liked to be talking to Shorter alone, but was uncertain how to suggest it. Shorter, however, seemed to have reached the same conclusion.

'Would you make us a pot of coffee, love?' he suggested. 'I don't want this business to drive me too deep into drink.'

She rose and left instantly. Whatever their usual relationship, this explosion in their lives had temporarily at least turned them into a team.

'Are you going back to work?' asked Pascoe.

'Do you think I should?'

'If you can manage it.'

'My solicitor said the same,' said Shorter. 'I can't dispute two expert opinions. I thought I'd go in tomorrow.'

He added, with a bitter laugh, 'I'll keep Alison chained to my drill.'

'Do that. I spoke to her this morning.'

'She told me. On the phone. She rang specially.'

'She's a loyal girl,' said Pascoe.

Shorter who all this time had been standing restlessly by the fireplace now sat down in the seat vacated by his wife and peered closely into Pascoe's face.

'It's a funny side-effect,' he said, 'but since this started, I keep reading significance and double meanings into everything anyone says.'

'That's called paranoia,' said Pascoe, 'and is not recommended. I said Alison was loyal. That's what I meant. Simple statement.'

'My country right or wrong, that's loyal,' said Shorter, smiling. 'Are you suggesting Alison's loyal like that?'

He looked and sounded perfectly relaxed and Pascoe felt an urge to give him a jolt.

'I certainly think she fancies you,' he said. 'Has it gone further than that?'

Shorter ran his fingers through his thick black hair and looked boyishly embarrassed.

'A bit of tight hugging at Christmas, birthdays and public holidays, but I haven't been to bed with her, no. I think she's ripe for it, but I don't want to complicate my life. Or hers, for that matter.'

'Big of you,' said Pascoe. 'What did you tell Mr Dalziel?'

'Aren't copies of statements pinned on the canteen wall?' asked Shorter. 'I told him I'd been treating Sandra Burkill for several weeks; to the best of my knowledge I'd never been alone with her for any period longer than two minutes; at no time did I touch her in any way other than that required by the performance of my profession; at no time did she touch any part of me with her hands, nor did I invite her to do so; at no time did I have intercourse with her. That's about it.'

'Succinctly put,' said Pascoe. 'Can you think of any reason why this girl might want to get at you, Jack?'

'Dalziel asked me that too. I suggested that he didn't have to look far to discover that young girls in a professional relationship with older men – pupils and patients in particular – were very prone to sexual fantasizing. Not too infrequently this overflowed into reality in the form of either a declaration or an accusation.'

He sounded as if he were quoting a Reader's Digest article.

'The girl is pregnant,' said Pascoe. 'Some overflow!'

'Dalziel made just the same point. It doesn't negate my point. Someone's put her up the stick. She points the finger at me. It fits in with her adolescent sex fantasies and it takes some of the pressure off her.'

'I don't quite see what you mean,' said Pascoe.

'Well, for God's sake, what's your traditional working-class moron's attitude to the news that his daughter's got one in the oven? He cuffs her round the ear and chucks her out into the street! But not in this case. She gets the whole class thing going for her. Wealthy, educated professional man takes advantage of naive innocent girl. So in this case, instead of thumping his daughter, Burkill comes round and starts thumping me!'

Emma Shorter came in with a tray. Pascoe stood up.

'I'm sorry,’ he said. 'It's very good of you, but I really can't stay.'

'Other crimes, Peter?' said Shorter.

'That's it.'