The Death of Dalziel: A Dalziel and Pascoe Novel

Yet despite all this, perhaps because over the years he and Ellie Pascoe had got very close, and in matters relating to her family she was supersensitive, somehow the grunt had reached her ears telepathically.

‘I said nowt,’ he said.

She said nowt too, which made her point very effectively.

‘All right,’ he said, pushed another step towards honesty. ‘I reckon maybe Mrs Glenister didn’t take Pete with her team just so he could help pursue their investigations over there, she took him to make sure he wasn’t sticking his nose in back here.’

‘But why should she do that? I thought she’d fallen over herself to make sure Mid-York CID were fully involved?’

‘Oh aye, she did,’ agreed Wield. ‘I’m not suggesting owt sinister. It’s just that, once you get into Security, you’ve got to tread very carefully. It were all right long as she were around, but likely she could see Pete were so obsessive, he wasn’t going to stop picking away at things just because the CAT team had moved on.’

Ellie sipped her cappuccino. It left a smudge of creamy brown foam along her lip. She had the kind of strong facial structure which age only improved and the kind of figure which only strong will power in the matter of cream doughnuts and buttered crumpets kept this side of orientally voluptuous. Looking at her, Wield thought of the old gay joke—doesn’t it sometimes make you wish you were a lesbian?

She licked her lip and said, ‘This have anything to do with that bullet Tig found? Pete seemed to think that was a bit of a mystery.’

‘A mystery susceptible of more than two explanations can hardly be deemed mysterious,’ said Wield.

He caught Pascoe’s intonation so perfectly that Ellie laughed out loud.

‘That’s what he decided, was it?’ she said.

‘He certainly got his two explanations,’ evaded Wield. ‘Look, Ellie, I really don’t think there’s owt much to worry yourself about. Give it time. He’ll be back soon—when he rang through yesterday he said he felt he were superfluous to requirements…’

‘Hanging around like a yard of foreskin at a Jewish wedding, was how he put it to me,’ said Ellie.

Wield grinned.

‘Me too. Another one from the wit and wisdom of Fat Andy, I think. Anyway, like I say, he’ll be back in a day or two. And when he is, there’s such a backlog of stuff piling up, he’ll not have time to worry about owt else.’

‘I hope you’re right, Wieldy,’ said Ellie. ‘But all this Templar stuff in the papers today…do you think that it could be connected with the Mill Street explosion?’

The papers had all been running the Mazraani killing on their front pages for a couple of days now. Several of them had used blurry images taken from the video, though none had gone so far as to show the severed head. The Voice had gone as far as showing the moment of first impact, and the same paper had come closest to expressing approval of the killing with the headline NOW IT’S YOUR TURN!

Reaction in the Muslim community, already heated by news of the murders, was brought to boiling point by this and other ultra-nationalist responses. A protest march to the Voice offices in Wapping might have caused a riot if a strong police presence had not prevented right-wing youths from getting closer than shouting distance to the Muslim marchers. Thwarted of its hoped-for images of violence, the Voice had compensated with a front-page photo of the protesters under the headline

RIGHT TO DEMONSTRATE? YES! But where were they when Stan Coker died?

It was only today, however, that the media had made the connection between the cryptic message about the ‘new knighthood’ and the Manchester killing. CAT had kept the lid on the contents of its audio tape, but a second message to the media reading, If the State cannot protect us, then we must look to those who can, signed Hugh de Payens, Grand Master, The Order of the Temple, had let the cat out of the bag, and already there’d been some speculation about a possible connection with the Mill Street bombing.

‘Possible, but far from sure,’ said Wield. ‘But as far as Pete’s coming home’s concerned, I don’t see it making any difference. He’s a man who likes to be useful. If them daft buggers are just letting him tread water, he won’t want to hang around.’

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