Come the Dark Night by David Tregarthen

Come the Dark Night by David Tregarthen

Author:David Tregarthen [Tregarthen, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books


If Jonathan had entertained any hopes of Simpson’s extra-curricular interest in him, he was soon disabused of them. After the preliminaries and some good-natured arguing about who was going to buy the beers, they had sat down on some stools next to a small table in the long corridor near the bar. Then Simpson had just come straight out with it.

‘Just so there’s no confusion, Dr R – this is just a friendly drink. In the interests of collegiality. If you’re looking for a date, I can give you my brother’s phone number. You’re exactly his type. But I’m straight.’

Jonathan had immediately flushed beet-red, but the other man seemed completely unfazed by the interaction, moving easily on to a discussion of Nicholas’s account of the scene at the Holywell Music Room, which matched up in all details with the accounts officers had taken. That done, Jonathan had expected Simpson to take his leave, but instead he ordered another round, returning from the bar with a couple of brimming pint glasses and a packet of salted peanuts between his teeth.

‘So,’ he said. ‘I take it you’re into films then?’

‘Er, yes, I suppose so,’ said Jonathan. ‘How did you know?’

‘Psycho,’ came the unexpected response.

‘What?!’

‘You’d been watching Hitchcock’s Psycho when we first interviewed you.’

‘Oh yes – that must have seemed a bit suspicious!’

‘Not really. If everyone who watched a horror film turned into a killer, we’d be inundated at the station. Besides, it’s a classic. Love Hitchcock.’

‘Me too,’ said Jonathan. ‘Psycho’s not my favourite, actually – that’s Rope. But I was trying to make some connections between Psycho and some of the texts I’m working on.’

‘Rope’s your favourite? Really? I mean, it’s interesting technically, with all those long takes and so on, but I’ve always thought it’s a bit stagey. I’d have expected you to like something more literary, like Rebecca.’

‘I mean, that’s great too. You’ve got to love the young Olivier. But there’s something about the way Hitchcock slowly builds the tension in Rope – and you can see poor Farley Granger getting more and more stressed as the dinner party goes along.’ Not to mention the erotic subtext, Jonathan thought.

‘Fair enough. I’m more of a North by Northwest man, myself.’

‘I would have thought you’d like Rope – you know, being based on a real-life murder.’

‘Yeah, Leopold and Loeb. Intellectual superiority and all that. But, funnily enough, we detectives don’t tend to want to spend too much time off-duty thinking about murder.’

‘No, of course. Sorry.’

Simpson brushed it away. ‘It’s fine. I guess it’s like my assuming you’d like literary adaptations.’

‘I do, actually. Though, predictably, I’m not always impressed by what they’ve done with the book.’

After an hour of amiable disagreement about a whole range of films, Simpson left, pleading paperwork. Jonathan elected to stay on in the pub. The termly English Drinks was due to start shortly in St Sebastian’s Lodge, an eighteenth-century former Judge’s Lodgings adjoining the college and used for formal functions and social events. It didn’t make sense to traipse back to his rooms before returning.



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