Bones & Silence (25 page)

'All right,' he said. 'You're on. No promises but it shouldn't be difficult. I may need to ask your dad about his trip down there in case he can help.'

He saw her expression and laughed. 'Doesn't much like the lad, does he? Not to worry. I won't let on about our arrangement. I'll say it's a social security inquiry or some such thing. Now, what can you tell me?'

'You ask the questions, I'll answer,' she said.

'Fair enough. How do you reckon Mr and Mrs Swain got on?'

She considered then said, 'All right. At first anyway.'

'At first?'

'When I first came to work here after Mr Swain had come in with Dad. I don't think it had dawned on her then how serious he was about running his own business, I mean.'

'And when it did?'

'She got more and more irritated. They had rows, mainly about going to America and money. I could hear them yelling in the house. She thought the business was useless. He said his roots were here, there was no way he was going to give up Moscow Farm to work for a gang of crooks like Delgado.'

'And she didn't show any sympathy?'

'No. She said the way he was going he'd have to give it up anyway when he went bankrupt. She said her family weren't crooks, just good efficient businessmen. She asked him where he got off criticizing her family when all that his had ever been good for was losing money and blowing their brains out.'

'And what did Mr Swain say to that?'

'He said, very quiet, that they'd always been able to get the farm back at no matter what cost. Well, he'd got it back and he wasn't going to let it go.'

'Tell me, lass,' said Dalziel in his friendliest tone. 'If he said this very quiet and they were in the house and you were out here, how come you managed to hear?'

'The outside bog freezes up in winter so sometimes I've got to go inside,' she said, meeting his gaze steadily.

'Fair enough. Do you know a man called Waterson, luv?'

'I wouldn't say I know him. He was a customer.'

'What did you make of him?'

'Fancied himself.'

'Did you fancy him?'

'No way.'

'Why not?'

She considered. 'For a start I could tell he didn't fancy me.'

That makes a difference?'

'Dealing with them that does is bad enough without chasing after them as don't,’ she said grimly.

Dalziel grinned. He liked her more and more.

'What about Mrs Swain. Did he fancy her?'

'I told Mr Pascoe that,' she said. 'He tried it on, but I thought she gave him the brush-off.'

'Would it surprise you if she'd taken up with him later?'

'No. I didn't know her well enough to be surprised.'

This was reasonable but not very helpful. Dalziel picked up another line and asked, 'How did Mr Swain get on with Mr Waterson?'

'Not very well.'

He waited for her to expand, but after a few moments she returned her gaze to her book. It was unnerving. She'd made a bargain to answer his questions, but they had to be asked first.

'How do you know?' he asked.

'I saw them quarrelling in the yard.'

'Could you hear what they were saying?' he asked, looking out of the window.

'No. Anyway, after a bit they went into the house.'

He hesitated, baffled. Every end a blank. What were Swain and Waterson rowing about? Had Swain begun to suspect something earlier than he claimed? And what different light could it throw on the events at Hambleton Road if he had?

He must have somehow contrived to look pathetic, for she took pity on him and said in an exasperated tone, 'Do you not want to know what it was about?'

'You said you couldn't hear.'

'I didn't need to. It was about Mr Waterson's account. It hadn't been settled despite me sending reminders. The last one threatened the court.'

'Was it for much?'

'Enough. Mr Swain were having trouble with his overdraft and needed every penny he could get.'

'So how did it end up?'

'They went into the house and Mr Waterson gave Mr Swain a cheque.'

'How do you know?'

'Because Mr Swain came out to me later and handed over the cheque and told me to pay it into the business account.'

There it was. Not a jealous confrontation but a business squabble. All he had to do was ask.

He said, 'So Mr Swain were really strapped for cash till he got this cheque?'

She laughed, full-throated, musical, a sound to draw a man's eyes back after they'd registered and dismissed the square features, the lifeless hair.

'He were still strapped,' she said. 'It came back a week later. Returned to drawer. No funds.'

'It bounced? What happened then?'

She said, 'I gave it to Mr Swain. He said he'd see to it.'

'And did he?'

'Not that I know of. There was nowt in our last statement.'

It could mean a lot, it could mean nowt. Dalziel stored it away and glanced at his watch. He'd been here too long. If Swain caught him now he might get suspicious of this lovely lass and that'd be a shame. Who knows what other answers she might be able to give if Dalziel could only work out the questions?

He said, 'I'll be off now, luv, but I'll be in touch.'

He meant with more questions but when she replied, 'How long?' he saw she didn't. A bargain was a bargain. He thought and said, 'Week at the outside. If you're sure. Sometimes no news is good news.'

'You reckon?' she said, picking up her book once more. This time he glimpsed its title.
Anna Karenina.
Dalziel's reading was not extensive. Fiction-wise, it was restricted almost entirely to Bulwer Lytton's
Last Days of Pompeii
which he'd stolen from his honeymoon hotel and read circularly as if it were
Finnegans Wake. But Anna Karenina
he knew because of the Garbo movie. He'd been more concerned with copping a feel from the buxom lass by his side than watching the elegant shadow on the screen, but he did remember it hadn't been a bundle of laughs.

He said, 'Careful you don't read your brain into train oil, like my old mam always used to say.'

She didn't look up but said, 'Mine says I'll read my life away. I say, why not?'

'There's no answer to that,' said Dalziel as he left.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

The station seemed full of solicitors on Dalziel's return, all crying police brutality. A headcount revealed that in fact there were only two, but they had enough sound and fury for a Labour Party Conference. Having ascertained that he was not the object of their wrath and that they had no connection with Messrs Thackeray, etc., Dalziel let himself be filled in by Sergeant Broomfield.

Upstairs in CID he found Pascoe eagerly awaiting his return.

'What's going on, Peter?' the fat man demanded. 'Here's me desperate to establish good community relations and you can't even take a witness statement without assault and battery.'

Pascoe didn't even bother to smile but said impatiently, 'I've just had the lab report on the veterinary samples I recovered from Harry Park. Four of the flea powder cartons contained heroin. That's two thousand grams.'

'What? Why didn't you say, lad? Let's go and kick shit out of the bugger!'

'Talking of shit, we searched Govan's shop and guess what we found down among the lentils?'

'Better and better. What have you done?'

'Everything, I think. Photos, prints, etc. are being faxed everywhere. Drug Squad, Customs have all been put in the picture. Everyone's moving at a hundred miles an hour trying to get as far back along Park's trail as possible before news spreads that we've picked him up.'

'And Park himself?'

'Quiet as the grave. He's scared. And not of us.'

'We'll see about that,' said Dalziel, reaching for the phone.

'Sir,' said Pascoe warningly. 'I really think this one's out of our hands. We've just been asked to keep him on ice till the Drug Squad decides how to play it.'

'He's in our cell, isn't he?' said Dalziel. 'All I want to ask him about is our friend, Waterson. Case in hand, possible unlawful killing, no one can complain about that. And you can fill me in while they're bringing him up.'

Pascoe gave a succinct account of everything that had happened that day and ten minutes later they were sitting opposite Harold Park in an interview room.

Pascoe was expecting Dalziel to attempt to be more frightening than the masters Park so clearly feared, and he wondered uneasily how far the fat man would go. But Dalziel, not for the first time, surprised him.

'Harold Park, isn't it?' he said, smiling. 'How are they treating you, Harry? Have you had something to eat? Coffee? Tea? Smoke?'

'Thanks,' said Park, accepting a cigarette.

'Only tobacco, I'm afraid,' said Dalziel as he lit it.

'That's all I take.'

'Oh, you don't practise what you push, then?' laughed Dalziel. 'Wise man. But you do have a problem, though, I can see that. Drugs are big money and big money has long arms and if you start grassing, one of them long arms can reach right inside the nick and tear your balls off, right? I'm sympathetic. That's why I'm not going to ask you to say anything at all about your set-up. There's others coming as'll do that, but not me. All I want from you is one little minnow, and it's nowt to do with drugs. Just tell me all about Gregory Waterson.'

'Waterson? Why's everyone interested in that wanker?' said Park with what sounded like genuine curiosity. Then sudden suspicion darkened his face. 'Was it him who put you on to me?'

'Don't be stupid,' sighed Dalziel. 'I - could lie and say yes so that you'd get mad and spill all you know about him, but that's not the way I play, Harry. Mr Pascoe here was genuine when he came round to ask you about Waterson. It was just bad luck the way things worked out. If Mr Govan had kept his van in better nick . . .'

'That Scotch idiot! I'll see he gets his.'

'Your privilege, Harry. Meanwhile: Mr Waterson . . .?'

'And what do I get out of it?'

'My gratitude, Harry. That's worth a million to anyone in your shoes. It'll be me who'll be there in court when you're asking for bail, remember that, Harry,' Dalziel lied easily.

'Bail? They'd never give me bail,' said Park. But there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

'They might, if the police weren't all that convincing in opposing it,' said Dalziel, tapping the side of his nose significantly.

Pascoe groaned inwardly at this combination of shaky morality and awful acting. Park considered, shrugged and said, 'All right. I'll tell you what I know. But only you.' He cast an unfriendly eye on Pascoe. 'I'm not making any admissions, you understand that? This has all been a complete misunderstanding.'

'Of course it has,' said Dalziel unctuously. 'Mr Pascoe, why not take a little walk, see if you can rustle up some tea for me and Mr Park. With doughnuts. I like a doughnut and Mr Park I'm sure has a lot in common with me.'

Pascoe left, not without relief. Ten minutes later he returned, bearing a tray with two cups of tea and a plateful of doughnuts. Dalziel took one and bit massively. Sugar glistened on his lips and raspberry jam trickled down his chin.

'Lovely,' he said. 'I sometimes think I'd as lief have a doughnut as a woman. One bang's like any other, but every time you sink your teeth into a doughnut's like the very first time. Now I hope you feel the same, Harry, 'cos where you’re going, there's not much choice, and you only get doughnuts every second Sunday.'

Downing a cup of scalding tea, he led the way out.

'Well?' said Pascoe as they walked along the corridor.

'It's like we thought,' said Dalziel. 'Park's a middleman between the big-time dealers and the small-time pushers. It was Govan that Waterson dealt with, very small time to start with, a few ounces of grass now and then, but eventually getting a bit harder, and when he started asking for more than he needed to feed a personal habit, Govan mentioned him to Park. They met and had a chat in the Sally. Park says he was impressed with Waterson at first. Very laid back, and he gave the impression he had lots of well-heeled contacts. Me, I've just seen Waterson as a snivelling wreck but from what everyone else says, when he's on top of things, he can be very impressive. It took our Harry a wee while to suss out that he was just another wanker who liked to talk big in front of his mates and fancy women. He began to get suspicious when Waterson just seemed to want to go on buying little nibbles, to sample the merchandise, he said. When Park told him to put up some real money or back off, Waterson became all indignant and sure enough he came up with an order worth several thou. What's more, he actually produced the money on time and took delivery at the end of January. No wonder the stupid sod couldn't pay Swain's bill!'

'But what about the profit on pushing the stuff? It should have been five times his investment, minimum.'

'Park knows nowt about that. All he knows is when he next saw Waterson only a week later he was ready to treat him as a serious customer till he realized he was back to buying a few fixes at a time. He was in such a state that at first Park reckoned they must be for himself. But it came out they were for some bird. He wanted to pay the wholesale price rather than the street price and he tried to lean on Park a bit by hinting that if his girl didn't get fixed up, she might start talking. Park wasn't explicit but he seems to have made it clear that if this bird started singing, it'd be Greg who got his neck pulled! After that he didn't see him again till last night, and that was by chance, at least on Park's part. He was in the Sally, having a social drink, he says - and I'm to be Queen of the May, I said - when Waterson came wandering over, all smiles, very much man-of-the-world. He'd had a couple of drinks and was talking expansively of doing some real big business with Park. Harry got out of the place as quickly as possible with his chums, before, as he put it, Waterson's gob could drop him in the shite.'

Pascoe frowned and said, 'I'd have thought he'd have wanted to give Waterson a stiff warning, perhaps even a lesson.'

Dalziel smiled and said, 'And so he did, my boy. But not there in front of witnesses, and not straight after, when he and Waterson had been seen leaving the pub together. No, the lesson was planned for this morning, a couple of Park's mates, mebbe the big lads you saw last night, going round to talk to him while Harry was safely chatting to a vet somewhere in Halifax.'