'There's some jobs shouldn't need it. Doctors, dentists, scout-masters, vicars - when any of that lot start needing titillation, watch out for trouble.'
'And policemen?'
Dalziel bellowed a laugh.
'That's all right. Didn't you know we'd been made immune by Act of Parliament? They've got a council, these dentists? No doubt they'll sort him out if he starts bothering his patients. I'd keep off the gas if I were you.'
'He's a married man,' protested Pascoe, though he knew silence was a marginally better policy.
'So are wife-beaters,' said Dalziel. 'Talking of which, how's yours?'
'Fine, fine,' said Pascoe.
'Good. Still trying to talk you out of the force?'
'Still trying to keep me sane within it,' said Pascoe.
'It's too bloody late for most of us,' said Dalziel. 'I get down on my knees most nights and say, "Thank you, Lord, for another terrible day, and stuff Sir Robert.'"
'Mark?' said Pascoe, puzzled.
'Peel,' said Dalziel.
Chapter 2
Pascoe was surprised at the range of feelings his visit to the Calliope Kinema Club put him through.
He felt furtive, angry, embarrassed, outraged, and, he had to confess, titillated. He was so immersed in self-analysis that he almost missed the teeth scene. It was the full frontal of a pot-bellied man wearing only a helmet and gauntlets that triggered his attention. There was a lot of screaming and scrabbling, all rather jolly in a ghastly kind of way, then suddenly there it was; the mailed fist slamming into the screaming mouth, the girl's face momentarily folding like an empty paper bag, then her naked body falling away from the camera with the slackness of a heavyweight who has run into one punch too many. Cut to the villain, towering in every sense, with sword raised for the coup de grace, then the door bursts open and enter the hero, by some strange quirk also naked and clearly a match for tin-head. The girl, very bloody but no longer bowed, rises to greet him, and the rest is retribution.
When the lights were switched on Pascoe, who had arrived in the dark, looked around and was relieved to see not a single large hat. The audience numbered about fifty, almost filling the room, and were of all ages and both sexes, though men predominated. He recognized several faces and was in turn recognized. There would be some speculation whether his visit was official or personal, he guessed, and he did not follow the others out of the viewing room but sat and waited till word should reach Dr Haggard.
It didn't take long.
'Inspector Pascoe! I didn't realize you were a member.'
He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a powerful head. His hair was touched with grey, his eyes deep set in a noble forehead, his rather overfull lips arranged in an ironic smile. Only a pugilist twist of the nose broke the fine Roman symmetry of that face. In short, it seemed to Pascoe to display those qualities of authoritarian, intellectual, sensuous brutality which were once universally acknowledged as the cardinal humours of a good headmaster.
'Dr Haggard? I didn't realize we were acquainted.'
'Nor I. Did you enjoy the show?'
'In parts.'
'Parts are what it's all about,' murmured Haggard.
'Tell me, are you here in any kind of official capacity?'
'Why do you ask?' said Pascoe.
'Simply to help me decide where to offer you a drink. Our members usually foregather in what used to be the staff room to discuss the evening's entertainment.'
'I think I'd rather talk in private,' said Pascoe.
'So it is official.'
'In part,' said Pascoe, conscious that this was indeed only a very small part of the truth. Shorter's story had interested him, Dalziel's lack of interest the previous day had piqued him, Ellie was representing her union at a meeting that night, television was lousy on Thursdays, and Sergeant Wield had been very happy to supply him with a membership card.
'Then let us drink in my quarters.'
They went out of the viewing room, which Pascoe guessed had once been two rooms joined together to
'And policemen?'
Dalziel bellowed a laugh.
'That's all right. Didn't you know we'd been made immune by Act of Parliament? They've got a council, these dentists? No doubt they'll sort him out if he starts bothering his patients. I'd keep off the gas if I were you.'
'He's a married man,' protested Pascoe, though he knew silence was a marginally better policy.
'So are wife-beaters,' said Dalziel. 'Talking of which, how's yours?'
'Fine, fine,' said Pascoe.
'Good. Still trying to talk you out of the force?'
'Still trying to keep me sane within it,' said Pascoe.
'It's too bloody late for most of us,' said Dalziel. 'I get down on my knees most nights and say, "Thank you, Lord, for another terrible day, and stuff Sir Robert.'"
'Mark?' said Pascoe, puzzled.
'Peel,' said Dalziel.
Chapter 2
Pascoe was surprised at the range of feelings his visit to the Calliope Kinema Club put him through.
He felt furtive, angry, embarrassed, outraged, and, he had to confess, titillated. He was so immersed in self-analysis that he almost missed the teeth scene. It was the full frontal of a pot-bellied man wearing only a helmet and gauntlets that triggered his attention. There was a lot of screaming and scrabbling, all rather jolly in a ghastly kind of way, then suddenly there it was; the mailed fist slamming into the screaming mouth, the girl's face momentarily folding like an empty paper bag, then her naked body falling away from the camera with the slackness of a heavyweight who has run into one punch too many. Cut to the villain, towering in every sense, with sword raised for the coup de grace, then the door bursts open and enter the hero, by some strange quirk also naked and clearly a match for tin-head. The girl, very bloody but no longer bowed, rises to greet him, and the rest is retribution.
When the lights were switched on Pascoe, who had arrived in the dark, looked around and was relieved to see not a single large hat. The audience numbered about fifty, almost filling the room, and were of all ages and both sexes, though men predominated. He recognized several faces and was in turn recognized. There would be some speculation whether his visit was official or personal, he guessed, and he did not follow the others out of the viewing room but sat and waited till word should reach Dr Haggard.
It didn't take long.
'Inspector Pascoe! I didn't realize you were a member.'
He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a powerful head. His hair was touched with grey, his eyes deep set in a noble forehead, his rather overfull lips arranged in an ironic smile. Only a pugilist twist of the nose broke the fine Roman symmetry of that face. In short, it seemed to Pascoe to display those qualities of authoritarian, intellectual, sensuous brutality which were once universally acknowledged as the cardinal humours of a good headmaster.
'Dr Haggard? I didn't realize we were acquainted.'
'Nor I. Did you enjoy the show?'
'In parts.'
'Parts are what it's all about,' murmured Haggard.
'Tell me, are you here in any kind of official capacity?'
'Why do you ask?' said Pascoe.
'Simply to help me decide where to offer you a drink. Our members usually foregather in what used to be the staff room to discuss the evening's entertainment.'
'I think I'd rather talk in private,' said Pascoe.
'So it is official.'
'In part,' said Pascoe, conscious that this was indeed only a very small part of the truth. Shorter's story had interested him, Dalziel's lack of interest the previous day had piqued him, Ellie was representing her union at a meeting that night, television was lousy on Thursdays, and Sergeant Wield had been very happy to supply him with a membership card.
'Then let us drink in my quarters.'
They went out of the viewing room, which Pascoe guessed had once been two rooms joined together to
Similar Books
The Warrior Returns - Anteros 04
Allan Cole
Century of Jihad
John Mannion
The Drowning Of A Goldfish
Lidmila; Sováková
Spurs and Heels
Heather Rainier
The Bone Wall
D. Wallace Peach
Burned
Dean Murray
Frosted
Allison Brennan, Laura Griffin
I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell
Tucker Max
Predator
Terri Blackstock
The Warlord Claims His Bride
Jenika Snow