Devices & Desires

'An Indian peasant would have less problem in keeping warm. The winters must be trying.'

'A hard winter is, indeed, a discipline in endurance. Not that I complain. I am always healthiest in winter. And matches are cheap. I have never learned those boy scout tricks with a magnifying glass and rubbed sticks. Happily I know half a dozen farmers who are willing to let me sleep in their barns. They know that I don't smoke, that I am tidy, that I shall be gone by the morning. But one should never trespass on kindness. Human kindness is like a defective tap, the first gush may be impressive but the stream soon dries up. I have my annual routine and that, too, reassures them. In a farmhouse twenty miles north of here they will be saying soon, "Isn't this the time of year that Jonah drops in?" They greet me with relief rather than tolerance. If I am still alive then so are they. And I never beg. An offer to pay is far more efficacious. "Could you sell me a couple of eggs and half a pint of milk", spoken at the farm door – provided the cash is proffered -will usually produce six eggs and a full pint. Not necessarily of the freshest, but one must not expect too much of human generosity.'

Dalgliesh said: 'What about books?'

'Ah there, sir, you have hit on a difficulty. Classics I can read in public libraries, although it is sometimes a little irritating to have to break off when it is time to move on. Otherwise I rely on second-hand paperbacks from market stalls. One or two stall-holders allow you to exchange the book or get your money back at the second visit. It is a remarkably cheap form of public lending library. As for clothes, there are jumble sales, Oxfam and those useful shops that deal in army surplus. I save from my allowance for a new ex-army winter coat every three years.'

Dalgliesh said: 'How long have you been living this life?'

'Nearly twenty years now, sir. Most tramps are pitiful because they are the slaves of their own passions, usually drink. A man who is free of all human desires except to eat, sleep and walk is truly free.'

Dalgliesh said: 'Not entirely. You have a bank account apparently, and you rely on that thousand pounds.'

'True. You think I would be freer if I didn't take it?'

'More independent, perhaps. You might have to work.'

'I cannot work, to beg I am ashamed. Luckily the Lord has tempered the wind to his shorn lamb. I should be sorry to do my brother out of the satisfaction of his benevolence. True, I have a bank account to receive my annual subsidy and to that extent I conform. But since my income depends on my separation from my brother it would hardly be possible to receive the money personally and my cheque book and accompanying plastic card have a most gratifying effect on the police when, as occasionally happens, they take a presumptuous interest in my doings. I had no idea that a plastic card was such a guarantee of respectability.'

Dalgliesh asked: 'No luxuries? No other needs? Drink? Women?'

'If by women you mean sex then the answer is no. I am escaping, sir, from drink and sex.'

'Then you are on the run from something. I could argue that a man on the run is never entirely free.'

'And I could ask you, sir, from what you are escaping on this isolated headland. If from the violence of your job you have been singularly unlucky.'

'And now that same violence has touched your life. I'm sorry.'

'You needn't be. A man who lives with nature is used to violence and is companionable with death. There is more violence in an English hedgerow than in the meanest streets of a great city.'

When they reached the mill Dalgliesh telephoned Rickards. He wasn't at the incident room but Oliphant was and said that he would immediately drive over. Then Dalgliesh took Jonah upstairs to look over the half-dozen pairs of shoes he had with him at the mill. There was no problem over fit but Jonah tried them all on and examined each shoe minutely before making his choice. Dalgliesh was tempted to say that a life of simplicity and self-abnegation hadn't spoilt his guest's eye for good leather. He saw, with some regret, his favourite and most expensive pair chosen.

Jonah walked up and down the bedroom looking down at his feet with complacency. He said: 'I seem to have the best of the bargain. The Bumbles came at an opportune time but they were hardly suitable for serious walking and I intended to replace them as opportunity offered. The rules of the road are few and simple but they are imperative. I commend them to you. Keep your bowels open; bath once a week; wear wool or cotton next to the skin and leather on the feet.'

Fifteen minutes later his guest was ensconced in an armchair, a mug of coffee in hand, still regarding his feet with satisfaction. Oliphant was prompt in arriving. Apart from his driver he was alone. He came into the sitting room bringing with him an aura of masculine menace and authority. Even before Dalgliesh had made the introduction he said to Jonah: 'You must have known you'd no right to those trainers. They're new. Ever heard of stealing by finding?'

Dalgliesh said: 'A moment, Sergeant.' Drawing Oliphant aside he said in a low voice: 'You'll treat Mr Jonah with courtesy.' And before Oliphant could protest, he added, 'All right, I'll save you the trouble of saying it. This isn't my case. But he is a guest in my house. If your men had searched the headland more thoroughly on Monday all three of us might have been saved some embarrassment.'

'He has to be a serious suspect, sir. He's got the shoes.'

Dalgliesh said: 'He also has a knife and he admits to having been on the headland on Sunday night. Treat him as a serious suspect by all means if you can find a motive or proof that he knew how the Whistler killed or even knew that he existed. But why not listen to his story before you jump to conclusions about his guilt?'

Oliphant said: 'Guilty or not, Mr Dalgliesh, he's an important witness. I don't see how we can allow him to go wandering off.'

'And I don't see how, legally, you can prevent him. But that's your problem, Sergeant.'

A few minutes later Oliphant was leading Jonah towards the car. Dalgliesh went out to see him off. Before climbing in at the back, Jonah turned to him.

'It was an ill day for me when I met you, Adam Dalgliesh.'

'But a good day, perhaps, for justice.'

'Oh, justice. Is that the business you're in? I think you may have left it rather late. This planet earth is hurtling now to its destruction. That concrete bastion on the edge of a polluted sea may bring about the final darkness. If not it will be by some other folly of man. There comes a time when every scientist, even God, has to write off an experiment. Ah, I see a certain relief on your face. You are thinking, So he is mad after all, this peculiar tramp. I need no longer take him seriously.'

Dalgliesh said: 'My mind agrees with you. My genes are more optimistic'

'You know it. We all know it. How else can one explain the modern sickness of man. And when the final darkness falls I shall die as I have lived, in the nearest dry ditch.' And then he gave a singularly sweet smile and added: 'Wearing your shoes, Adam Dalgliesh.'

The encounter with Jonah had left Dalgliesh curiously restless. There were plenty of jobs to be done in the mill but he felt disinclined to tackle any of them. His instinct was to get into the Jaguar and drive very fast and very far. But he had tried that expedient too often to have any faith in its efficacy. The mill would still be standing when he returned, the problems still unsolved. He had no difficulty in recognizing the basis of his discontent; the frustrating involvement with a case which would never be his yet from which it was impossible to distance himself. He remembered some words of Rickards spoken before they had finally parted on the night of the murder.

'You may not want to be involved, Mr Dalgliesh, but you are involved. You may wish that you had never been near the body, but you were there.'

He seemed to remember using much the same words to a suspect in one of his own cases. He was beginning to understand why they had been so ill received. On an impulse he unlocked the mill and climbed up the ladders to the top storey. Here, he suspected, his aunt had found her peace. Perhaps some of that lost contentment might seep into him. But any hope of being left undisturbed was due to be frustrated.