Pictures of Perfection

CHAPTER FIVE

Evening was settling over the valley as the three detectives drove out of Enscombe.

‘And what the fuck am I going to tell Desperate Dan?’ asked Dalziel.

It was a rare, indeed almost a unique dilemma. In the past, Dalziel had experienced very little difficulty in telling the Chief Constable anything, from unpleasant truths such as that his flies were open, to downright lies such as that his wish was Dalziel’s command.

‘How about, all’s well that ends well?’ said Pascoe brightly.

‘Oh aye? How about much ado about fucking nothing!’ retorted the Fat Man. ‘Two whole days, and what have we got? Bodies in the morgue, none. Bodies in the cells, none. Policemen resigned, one. Crimes committed, any number. Citizens willing to bring charges, not a single one!’

‘There is a positive side,’ said Pascoe. ‘Schools saved, one. Marriages arranged, two, maybe three. Peace of mind and ways of life preserved, a couple of hundred. And we can still do Guy the ex-Heir for assault.’

‘What? When not a soul in the place except us is willing to give evidence? Even Thomas bloody Wapshare says he’s not bothered by the breaking and entering. No, I may not know much, lad, but I know better than to stand up in court and complain about being showered with pig’s blood. We’d be a laughing-stock!’

‘The Post Office break-in’s still an open case, though,’ said Pascoe. ‘We might still get someone for that?’

He sensed rather than saw Wield stiffen. There was something there … in fact there was a lot going on with the Sergeant that he didn’t quite understand. Ellie would fathom it, he comforted himself.

‘I doubt it,’ said Dalziel disconsolately. ‘It’ll probably turn out to be the Little People, or summat. Aye, that’s it, it’s bloody fairy land back there. I mean, look at yon spot, for God’s sake!’

They were passing Scarletts, its exuberant shapes and colours gift-wrapped in the glow of the setting sun.

‘What the hell’s that got to do with Yorkshire?’ demanded Dalziel. ‘It’s like a tit-show in a monastery!’

‘Even monks need a night off,’ said Pascoe.

‘Nay, lad, being an off-corner yourself, you’d not know what I mean. Wieldy, now, you understand. A tyke’s a tyke even if it primps itself like a poodle. Wieldy, this Enscombe place, how’d it strike you?’

‘Oh, I agree with you, sir,’ said Wield. ‘Definitely fairy land.’

He glanced at Pascoe and winked, causing him almost to drive into the ditch as his mind clouded once more with vain speculation.

Dalziel didn’t seem to notice.

‘There you are,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘I’m glad at least one of you keeps his feet on the ground. A fairy tale, that’s what I’ll tell Dan! I’ll begin Once upon a time, then lay out the facts. He can decide for himself how it works out, earn his overbloated salary for once. How does that sound to you, Wieldy?’

‘Money for old rope,’ said Wield. ‘’Cos if you start Once upon a time, there’s no bother at all deciding how it works out, is there?’

‘Meaning what, clever clogs?’

‘And they all lived happy ever after,’ said Wield. ‘The end.’