There are No Ghosts in the Soviet Union by Reginald Hill

Author:Reginald Hill [Reginald Hill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007370337
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 1987-12-04T16:00:00+00:00

auteur theory

Nothing in this story is what it seems.

You should remember that.

I am standing, sunlit and windswept, in the middle of the lawn of an eighteenth-century country house. To my left is a fat middle-aged woman wearing a twin-set, pearls, and an expression of solemn piety. To my right is a fat middle-aged man wearing an old black suit and a white shirt which must be of some very rough material as his hand is constantly inside it, scratching. At our feet is a hole. Beyond it, is a truck with a crane mounted on the back from which depends the eight-foot-tall bronze statue of a nude woman.

In the hole lies a scatter of human bones.

‘You are in charge here?’ the woman says to me.

‘No, ma’am. Mr Dalziel here, Detective-Superintendent Dalziel’s, in charge.’

She looks in disbelief at the fat man who belches and says, ‘Who are you?’

‘I am Miss Disney, deputy principal,’ she snorts indignantly.

‘Oh aye?’ says Dalziel. ‘You’re the one that passed out, right?’

‘I swooned.’

‘Is that right? Well, Sergeant Pascoe here will take your statement just now. Hold on. Are you the one that shouted, “It’s Miss Girling” before you went down?’

‘I may have said …’

‘What made you say that?’

‘Association of ideas, Superintendent. This statue is – or rather was – a memorial to our late Principal. The bones cannot of course have anything to do with her.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Miss Girling died abroad, sir,’ I interpose. ‘Four years ago. Buried there. An accident. Hence the memorial.’

‘Is that right? Smart lad, my sergeant, Miss Disney. Joins up his letters when he writes. Is there owt more?’

‘Superintendent,’ said Miss Disney, her bosom swelling. ‘When are these bones going to be removed. These premises are occupied by sensitive young people …’

‘I’ll watch out for them,’ says Dalziel. ‘Not many left these days, not like when we were young, eh, love? Why don’t you run across to the kitchen now and make us a cup of tea? We’ll be over in a second.’

Disney retreats in majestic indignation.

‘What makes her tick, do you reckon?’ wonders Dalziel.

‘Sexuality repressed, maternalism diverted, ambition thwarted, I’d say at a guess.’

‘Christ, you should get on well here, Sergeant. You speak the lingo. Start sniffing around, see what the gossip is. I’m sure you can worm your way into the inner circle.’

‘Yes, sir,’ I say hesitantly. ‘In fact there is someone on the staff here I was at university with. I saw her name on the staff list …’

‘Her?’

‘It was a mixed university, sir. They’re catching on fast.’

‘Piss off, Pascoe. You take the young stuff, I’ll go and charm the oldies.’

‘Yes, sir. By the way, this statue …’

‘What about it?’

‘Seems a strange kind of memorial to the Principal of a Teachers Training College?’

Dalziel looks up at the pendant nude.

‘Don’t see why. Perhaps this Miss Girling had big bronze knockers too!’

‘Cut!’ shouted Andy Adamson. ‘We’ll take lunch.’

He came across to us, frowning. The bright sunlight dimmed from the arc-lights, the wind died away from the wind machine and we were back to a dull still spring day.

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