When Charley finally introduced me to a woman she said was Parker’s sister, I thought, Thank Christ I’m back with the sane buggers. Some hope! Took all of ten seconds to realize she were dotty as a Frenchman’s jock strap. Woman with her seemed okay, but. Name of Sandy something. Gave me an odd stare when Charley introduced us-or mebbe that’s just how she always looks at big sexy men. I wish!
I’d got one thing right, though. Suddenly the door burst open and buffalo woman charged in.
“Lester,” she declaimed. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
Parker and Festerwhanger were in close confab over by the drinks table. I saw them look at each other, just a glance lasting a split second, but I’d put money on it each on ’em were thinking, You didn’t tell me you’d invited her!
But Parker being a cockeyed optimist and Festerwhanger being a smarmy Yank, neither of ’em had any bother turning on the full beam and coming forward to greet her.
“Lady D! Now we’re complete!” declared Parker.
“Welcome, dear Daphne,” oozed Festerwhanger, offering one of them air kisses, but she moved her head at the last moment and caught him full on the lips so hard it probably bruised his gums.
The bodywork might be a bit rusty but the old internal combustion was still pounding away!
She weren’t slow at lapping up the fizz either, I noted, getting through a couple of glasses at a rate of knots that made me feel like a Methodist and hitting the nibbles like she’d not et since Shrove Tuesday.
“Bet the mean old cow’s brought a doggy bag,” muttered young Heywood.
I said, “Being rude’s okay behind people’s backs then?”
“Just stating the facts,” she said pertly. “Looks like maybe you’re on the menu too.”
Didn’t get her drift till I looked back to Lady D and there was the old bird wiggling her glass at me and giving me a turnip-lantern smile.
What the fuck had I done to turn me from loony patient to dear old chum?
Mebbe it were friendship hour here in Sandytown, for suddenly the young guy I recalled whistling “The Indian Maid” in the pub appeared and gave Heywood a smacking kiss. Opposite effect here. He was definitely aiming at the mouth but a nifty bit of head work diverted him to the cheekbone.
“Charley, here you are,” he said. “What a joy to see you again.”
He sounded like an old-fashioned actor doing sincere. Good-looking young bloke, and he knew it. No harm in that. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, that’s always been my motto.
Didn’t look like it cut much ice with Heywood, but. She said, very accusing, “You told your aunt about the meeting then?”
“Of course,” he said. “But only in the fervent hope that she’d insist on coming, thus giving me another chance of seeing you.”
The lass rolled her eyes a bit, but I could tell she were pleased too. This young cock had learned what all successful young cocks soon work out, that you don’t need to worry about laying on the lard too thick with most women. Seeing what you’re at makes them feel cleverer than you, which is what they all like to feel. But it takes a very clever one indeed not to let some of the lard stick!
She said, “Mr. Dalziel, this is Teddy Denham. Sir Edward, if you like titles.”
“Love ’em,” I said. “Detective Superintendent Andy Dalziel.”
That froze his smile a second as we shook hands.
There’d been two others in the grand lady’s train, a pair of lasses, one I didn’t recognize and t’other the willowy niece, Clara, I’d met in the pub. Didn’t surprise me to see Roote bearing down on her like the wolf on the fold. He came to a stop in front of her, reached out, grabbed a chair and pretty well forced her to sit down so’s she were at his level. Didn’t notice or mebbe didn’t care that he were blocking the passage of t’other lass, who looked like she’d lunched on a radish salad and wished she hadn’t. She could’ve walked round him but she didn’t. She just got hold of the back of the wheelchair and twisted it out of her way, then wandered off to the window at the far end of the room, leaving Roote looking at the wall. Clara looked a bit pissed with the sour-faced woman but I could see Roote grinning as he maneuvered himself back into position. Nowt I could teach that bugger about milking sympathy!
Alongside me, Teddy Denham was still laying it on with a trowel too, this time showing young Heywood how well read he were.
Looking round the room, he declared, “This is precisely the kind of gathering Austen would have described so brilliantly, don’t you think, Charley? Or perhaps you prefer the darker gaze of George Eliot?”
“I’m not sure,” she said.
“What about you, Mr. Dalziel? Aimez-vous George Eliot?”
It was put-down-the-fat-plod time.
I said, “Eh?”
“Do you like George Eliot?” he translated very slowly.
“Oh aye,” I said. “He were my gran’s favorite. Used to play ‘By the Silvery Moon’ all the time. Excuse me.”
I gave Heywood a grin afore I moved off and she grinned back and gave me a big wink. Interesting lass. Not daft, just young. And won’t be bad looking either when she lets herself grow into her body. Reminds me a bit of Cap.
In my experience buggers who want to be alone are either thinking of topping themselves or stealing the silver, so I joined the sour-faced woman by the window to find out which. She was staring across to the convalescent home. From this angle you couldn’t see how it had been extended. Looking out to sea, with its tall chimneys and all that green ivy clinging to mellow red brick, it would have made a grand cover for an English Heritage magazine.
“Must have been a lovely place to live when it were a private house,” I said.
“Yes, it was,” she said softly. “Very lovely. It used to belong to my family. A sort of dower house. My grandmother lived there. I always used to love staying with her…”
I could see her face in the pane and her expression were sort of dreamy. Nice-looking lass. Then she clocked my reflection and suddenly it were back to radish time.
She turned to face me.
I said, “Andy Dalziel,” and stuck out my hand.
Her handshake were like one of them air kisses. Made the healer’s feel like an arm-wrestling session.
“Esther Denham,” she said.
“Oh aye. You related to Lady Denham then?”
Her face screwed up like she’d bit on a lettuce leaf and found a slug.
“By marriage,” she said, making it sound like an operation without anesthetic.
Then Lady D’s voice boomed, “Esther, my dear, there you are. Come and keep me company. You too, Edward.”
It were like watching a kid who’s just been told she can’t have a sweetie realizing it’s because she’s being offered a tutti-frutti instead. As she turned from me, her face lit up like someone had triggered a security light.