Palmer-Jones 01 - A Bird in the Hand Read Free Page B

phrase ‘twitching like a long dog,’ which Hardy used and which is still common today in rural counties. A long dog is a greyhound. It could be interpreted as ‘straining at the leash,’ perhaps. So a twitcher is a person who is in that state when he hears the news of a bird which he has never seen before, and remains in it until he has ‘ticked it off’—another bird watching term—derived, I suppose, from the habit of placing a mark by the new species in the field guide.”
    “It never seemed much of a hobby to me,” Anderson Said. “Perhaps I never encouraged him enough. He took no interest in the things I cared about. I thought he did it to spite me. Like the long hair and running away from school. He’s in the local comprehensive now, and doesn’t spend much time there. They tell me he’ll pass his A-levels, but he won’t apply for university. He’s only just eighteen.”
    Then quite suddenly:
    “His mother left, you know, when he was a child. She was a lot younger than me, of course. Things were different then, and because she left, because of the circumstances surrounding the separation, I got custody. I don’t know if it was the right thing. We’ve never been very close. Sometimes I wonder even if he’s my son. He’s always been a weak sort of boy.”
    Palmer-Jones sensed the disappointment of the man whose whole life had been competitive, who had needed to prove that he was fitter, stronger than his friends and whose son would not or could not compete with him at all.
    “I’m sorry. I don’t understand how I can help you.”
    “Adam and I don’t pretend to be very close, but I’m not so insensitive that I can ignore him when he’s distressed. This business in Norfolk has distressed him. I can tell that. I want it cleared up.”
    There was a touch of petulance in his manner. He was used to getting what he wanted.
    “I see,” said Palmer-Jones lightly, “and of course it would be very embarrassing for you, a magistrate, to have Adam involved in a murder inquiry.”
    “Of course it’s embarrassing.” The man’s voice was still flat, reasonable. “I’ve survived more than embarrassment in my career. I’m not asking for your help on my own account, but because of my concern for my son. I seem to have little authority over him, but if you discover any illegal or unsavoury element in this twitching, which wastes all his time and energy, I’ll prevent him from further participation. In my own way I care about Adam. He’s not the sort of boy who can look after himself. You’re an intelligent man. I know the kind of work you were doing in the Home Office. Clear up this matter for me. If you come to the conclusion that no birdwatcher had any part in this young man’s death, I’ll trust your judgement. That’s all I want to know.”
    Despite a residual cynicism about the man’s motives, Palmer-Jones was impressed. It was not easy for Anderson to ask for help. Yet he said:
    “Surely you, of all people, can trust the police not to make a mistake.”
    The magistrate’s quick, almost hysterical response showed, for the first time, the extent of his anxiety.
    “Have you heard these birdwatchers talk to each other? It’s like another language, as if they belong to a secret society. When I listen to Adam talking on the telephone to one of his friends, I can’t understand a word. How could an outsider persuade one of these fanatics to talk to him reasonably and rationally?”
    “And as a fanatic myself, you feel that I may have more success?”
    “I want to know what happened. Because Adam is unhappy and because you appear, in some way, to be a friend of his, I’m asking for your help.”
    He stood up and spoke with stilted formality, as if he were in court. He had already given away too much.
    “If you do agree to act for me in this matter, I will of course pay all your expenses and any fee you consider to be reasonable.”
    In a mocking voice, talking almost to himself,