She banged her hand down on the open exercise book.
'Yeah. Ironic, eh?' said Pascoe. 'Sorry, I'm not doing an I-told-you-so. I've found myself wishing that Ada had done what she felt tempted to do and burnt the whole bloody lot instead of dumping it in my lap.'
'She might as well have done. It's not as if you're going to be able to get beyond the dead end she hit, are you?'
'I don't know. All I know is that somehow I seem to be right in the middle of it. You know what the house was called where Peter was brought up? Wanwood. And the family his mother nursemaided for were the Grindals. And this medical genius Sam Batty, his descendants and the Grindals' still run the company. Look, there's a letter here from Herbert Grindal, commiserating with my great-grandmother. He was an officer in the Wyfies, and when I was looking through the old records at Wanwood this morning I came across his name as a patient there when it was a hospital during the war. I tell you, it's like being out in the Salient with shit coming at you from all sides!'
Ellie hacked a piece out of her lasagne, glad to be back in her role of the voice of reason.
'No shit, just good story lines for a Victorian novel,' she said. 'Where does it get you? Nowhere. Ada hit a barrier. You're going to need more than a bit of creepy coincidence to get you over it.'
'There's always Poll Pollinger.'
'Details of the trial, you mean? Don't build up your hopes. From the sound of it, these things weren't exactly conducted in ideal circumstances with a stenographer making a verbatim record. You know what he was charged with, you know he was found guilty. I suspect that even if Poll manages to wheedle a transcript out of her bent colonel, it'll occupy half a sheet of paper and won't tell you much more. This is personal, Peter. Keep it that way. Read his journals. From what I've seen so far, he sounds the kind of man you can be proud to be descended from. And if the war and the system broke him, then pray that you and yours will never be tested to breaking point. Every day I look at the telly and see things that make me think, that is beyond my endurance. Do that to me, and I would go under. Maybe we can change some of those things. Meanwhile, be proud, be hopeful, and eat your lasagne.'
'Well, bugger me, as our daughter might have said before Miss Martindale waved her magic wand,' said Pascoe. 'I married a philosopher. Here's looking at you, Socrates.'
He raised his glass. The phone rang.
'Shit,' said Pascoe, feeling Miss Martindale would have approved.
He got up and went through into the hallway. Ellie heard his voice distantly but deliberately made no effort to organize sound into sense.
She saw by his face when he returned that she'd been right. This was not something she wanted to know.
'What?' she asked.
'It was Andy,' he said. 'Wendy Walker's died. And they've arrested Cap Marvell.'
xii
By Friday lunch time, Ada's funeral seemed a long, long way away. Presumably Dalziel felt the distance he had travelled in the days between to be just as great if not greater.
Late that Monday night he had set eyes for the very first time on Cap Marvell. During the next couple of days he had, if rumour were right, entered into a meaningful relationship with her.
And on the evening of the third day, he had read her her rights.
The case against her was so far mainly circumstantial. They had found in her Discovery a bicycle clip matching the one found on Wendy Walker's right ankle, plus traces of oil and rust matching those on her cycle. Marvell explained these by claiming that on several occasions she'd given Walker and her bike a lift. In order to fit the machine into the storage area, Walker had removed the front wheel, thus possibly dislodging a considerable amount of rust and oil.
They had also found traces of blood on a rear seat. It was the same group as Walker's. Marvell recalled that one of the group had cut herself on a demo to which they'd been ferried in the Discovery. Tested, this woman proved to be group 'O' also.
There was a fresh scratch on the front bumper of the Discovery, which might have been caused by running over the front wheel of a bicycle, and debris collected from the front tyre treads was being subjected to every test known to Dr Death in an effort to establish a transfer link with either the bike or Ludd Lane.
Cap Marvell's claims to have been at a wedding in Scarborough on the date of the Redcar raid had been substantiated. But closer enquiry had produced the information that a fair proportion of the official guests had been political activists of one sort or another, including Meg Jenkins and Donna Linsey from ANIMA. As for the extra unrecorded guests who turned up for the pub party after the ceremony, it could be assumed though not proven that the proportion here was even higher.
'How far's Scarborough from Redcar? About fifty miles?' said Pascoe.
'Hour's run on a quiet evening in a fast car,' said Wield.
'So someone says, "This party's a bit dead, who fancies a bit of action? Let's head up the coast and liberate a few downtrodden animals.'"
'That would explain the way they acted once they got inside, you know, running riot and wrecking the place. And with the luck of the half-pissed they got away scot-free.'
'After giving poor Mark Shufflebottom a friendly tap on the head to keep him quiet.'
'Only, being half pissed, the tap was a bit harder than intended and the poor sod keels over dead.'
'Not realizing this, they head back down to the party which has picked up again and goes on till the break of day.'
'Which is when they get the news on the radio, after which they split, after taking a vow that everyone in the group can recall seeing everyone else every minute of the party, from the first champagne cork popping till the last piss artist puking.'
The elaboration of lack of intent was for Dalziel's benefit, but the basic scenario had a lot to commend it.
'What about the raid on Wanwood in the summer?' asked Pascoe. 'Same style, lot of vandalism, animals just turned loose to roam the countryside. Does this mean they were pissed again?'
'Why not? Marvell says she had dinner with her son that night. From what you say, sir, that could have seen her well oiled by the time they parted.'
By common consent, they had decided that there was no point in pussyfooting around Dalziel. OK, if they saw a chance to suggest that Marvell's putative fatal assault upon the guard had been accidental rather than premeditated, there was no harm in taking it. But they both knew the Fat Man well enough to guess that any hint on their part that they were marking time on this one would have only served to force him into the painful task of doing the dirty work himself.
He nodded now and said, 'Aye, that's about the strength of it. How about t'others in the group?'
'Alibis for that night? All tight, except for Jenkins and Linsey. The same two as went to the Scarborough wedding. They say they can't really recall so far back, but they think they had a quiet night in.'
'What's one of them when it's at home?' said Dalziel, the tautology coming close to pathos.
Pascoe said brightly, 'OK, so let's look at what we've got. What might or might not have been a dying declaration which fortunately Seymour had the wit to get on tape.'
He pressed the button on the cassette deck on the table before them.
First Ellie's voice.
'Wendy, it's OK, you're in hospital. It's so great to see your eyes open. Wendy, this is Ellie Pascoe. Can you hear me?'
Then Wendy Walker.
'Cap, Cap, Cap … oh why.. why.. why?'
The note of bewilderment was almost unbearable.