Death of Dalziel - Dalziel & Pascoe 22 by Reginald Hill

Author:Reginald Hill [Hill, Reginald]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Crime, Mystery
ISBN: 9780007313228
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2009-05-27T23:00:00+00:00

The man raised his eyes from his book, said, 'Yes,' and went back to his reading.

This should have been a relief. Why the hell should Hector's subconscious mind be any more reliable than his conscious? And it was a relief insomuch as Pascoe, still smarting from Wield's demolition of his hypothetical construction last night, shuddered at the thought that he might have tried out this latest theory on any of his colleagues.

And yet it was disappointing too. No man likes to see his fantasy, no matter how far-fetched, destroyed.

He began to turn away, then, because he was famous for, as Dalziel put it, liking his eyes crossed and his teas dotted, he said, 'And were you expecting him to visit you today?'

The patient looked at him with irritation.

'Eh?' he said.

'Your friend, the one who was looking for you, were you expecting to see him today?'

'What the fuck are you talking about?'

'This man, the one in the drawing, the one you said you recognized, isn't he your friend?'

'What's up with you, mate? Yes, I recognize him. No, he's not a friend. Hang about. . .'

He leaned over to his locker and pulled a book from the bottom of the pile of paperbacks.

'There,' he said, thrusting it into Pascoe's hand. 'That's the fucker. Now can I get on with my reading?'

The book was called Blood on the Sand and subtitled A Novel of the Iraqi Wars. Its author was John ‘I. Youngman, formerly, so Pascoe discovered when he turned the book over, of the SAS. He also noticed the publisher was Hedley-Case, the same as Ellie's, but what really drew his eye was the photograph of the author beneath the blurb.

It wasn't very big, passport-size at most, but it was undoubtedly a picture of both the man at the door and Hector's charioteer.

13

no change

Pascoe moved fast.

No doubt Wield, and everyone else, would have rational explanations for all this, but he wasn't taking any chances.

He called up Hospital Security and got a man posted outside Hector's room.

'No one in unless they're known to you,' he commanded. 'Especially not this chap.'

He showed the photo on the back of the book which he'd confiscated from the grumpy patient whose name was Mills and who was in the Central for an haemorrhoidectomy, which perhaps explained his grumpiness.

Compared with the jacket photo. Hector's drawing gave a rather clearer picture of the man's features, but Pascoe felt the armour and the jaguar might be a distraction.

'I'll get one of our officers stationed here as soon as possible,' he told the security guard. 'Till then, don't budge.'

Two of the other three Security men on duty he set to checking waiting rooms and public areas just in case Youngman was still on the premises. The third he despatched to the car park to take a note of any Jaguars left there. But Pascoe had a feeling that his man was long gone.

He rang through to the Station and found Paddy Ireland on duty. When he enquired about spare bodies, the

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