Ruling Passion (9 page)

Oh, I am, I am, thought Pascoe.

'Look,' the woman went on, 'I'm terrible sorry  about your friends. I hardly knew them, the Hopkinses I mean, but they seemed very nice  people.'

Everyone speaks as if we've lost them both,  thought Pascoe. Perhaps we have.

'You'll be tired of expressions of sympathy I  know. They become very wearing.' She paused  as though communicating with herself only, then  continued. 'Which brings me to this evening. You  are very welcome indeed to our house, but Hartley and I have got our lines crossed somewhere. I've  asked a couple of friends along to dinner and a few  more people may drop in for drinks later. Please,  it's up to you. If you'd rather duck out, have  your meal early, and generally avoid the madding  crowd, just say so. Don't be silly about it.'

The crossed lines cut both ways, Pascoe mixed  his metaphors. Hartley knew as little of his wife's  evening invitations as she did of his. Or did he?

'I think we'd like to join in,' said Ellie, rather to Pascoe's surprise, though it confirmed his own  reaction. The reasons must be very different, however. 'If we're not going to be spectres at the feast,  that is.'

'Not at all. Good, that's settled. It's just a cold collation on Saturdays, but I'd better go and get  things organized before I change.'

She was wearing slacks and a chunky sweater and looked wind-blown, as if she had just returned  from some fairly active outdoor activity.

'May I help?' asked Ellie.

'Why not?' she said with a smile. 'How are  you at carving? Hartley's a near-vegetarian and doesn't take kindly to sawing up chunks of dead  animals.'

'Are you interested in porcelain?' asked Culpepper when the two men were alone.

'I know little about it,' answered Pascoe cautiously. More therapy? he wondered. From Dalziel's  burglars to Culpepper's culture. I must appear all  things to all men.

'My own knowledge is very limited,’ said Culpepper modestly. 'Come and see my few pieces.'

He rose, led Pascoe across the entrance hall and unlocked a solid-looking oak door. When he  opened it, Pascoe was surprised to see a metal  grille, rather like the expanding doors used in  old-fashioned lifts. Culpepper inserted another key  and the grille slid back of its own accord.

Whether the value of the collection justified  these elaborate precautions Pascoe could not say. The pieces were magnificently displayed. There  were no windows in the room and the walls were  broken by a series of different sized niches which  held the porcelain. Each niche had its own light,  controlled separately so that it was possible to  centre the attention completely on each of the  pieces in turn. The only free-standing pieces were  two large capped urns which occupied plinths in  the middle of the room. They were decorated in  the Chinese style but Culpepper assured Pascoe  that they were late eighteenth-century English  imitations.

'Out of place here, really,' he said. 'But they  were the first things I ever bought when I discovered I had enough money to start buying.'

'How much is it all worth?' was all Pascoe could  find to say.

'Oh, several thousands,' said Culpepper vaguely.  'Much of it is not what the experts might call  first-rate. But to me it is irreplaceable and therefore  invaluable.'

He led the way out, crashing the grille door  locked behind him.

'Valuable or not, I wish more people would take  the precautions you do with their property,' said  Pascoe, thinking of the ease with which his current  burglar had been helping himself to small fortune.  This time last night he had been working on the  case. It seemed barely credible.

Dinner went quite well. Ellie and Marianne  seemed to have taken to each other, though  Pascoe would not have seen either as the other's  'type'. The guests, John and Sandra Bell, were a  pleasant enough couple in their mid-thirties, he  extrovert, outspoken, nearly hearty; she pretty, much quieter but far from subdued. The name  touched a chord in Pascoe's mind. But it was  only when the conversation, carefully vetted  and censored for his and Ellie's benefit, came  round to the local water pollution controversy  that he recalled noticing Bell's name in the  Amenities Committee minutes. He was a staunch  down-streamer, and complained bitterly that the  village brook was being polluted upstream by  careless management of the cesspool drainage which many of the local properties still relied on.  Culpepper, eating an egg mayonnaise with green  salad, pushed his plate away from him with an  expression of distaste.

'John, please,' said Mrs Bell. 'You're making Hartley nauseous and must be boring his visitors stiff.'

'I'm sorry,’ said Bell, grinning at Ellie. 'Forgive  me. It's all right for the idle rich on this side of the village. They can be objective. But that  stream runs at the bottom of my garden and  I've got a young son. He catches enough without  getting typhoid. But never fear. I have a plan. The next Amenities Committee meeting may get  a surprise.'

He winked conspiratorially as Marianne began clearing away the plates.

The first after-dinner guest arrived as they were  drinking their coffee. Marianne let him in. There  was a perceptible interval before she returned  with Angus Pelman. Pascoe assumed the time was spent in warning the man about the strangers in  the house.

Pelman made no attempt to avoid the subject of the killings.

'Any news of Hopkins?' he asked brusquely after  being introduced.

'I think not,' intervened Culpepper diplomatically. 'I wonder, Miss Soper, if you would care to  see my collection of porcelain?'

'Oh, blast your porcelain, Hartley. Miss Soper  isn't a child to have her mind diverted by a bag of sweets.'

Culpepper turned away and busied himself  removing the foil cap from a fresh bottle of scotch. One two-thirds full stood in full view on the  sideboard. Marianne glanced over at him with a  faint pucker of worry between the eyes.

'We're all shocked by what's happened,' Pelman  continued. 'They were nice people, our neighbours, members of our community.'

'Which not everybody made them particularly  welcome to,' murmured Culpepper. 'Let me freshen  your drink, Mr Pascoe.'

'Meaning?' demanded Pelman.

'That business at the Eagle, for a start,' replied  Culpepper.

'That was between JP and the Hopkinses,' intervened Bell. 'Nothing to do with anyone else. They  were well out of it. It's a much better pint at the  Anne, and cheaper too.'

He grinned amiably, the pourer of oil on troubled  waters.

'Who's JP?' asked Ellie.

'Palfrey, the owner of the Eagle and Child,' said Marianne Culpepper.

'Who, blameworthy though he is, should not be allowed all the blame,' said her husband blandly. 'And there were other things besides. Eh, Pelman?'

There was a ring at the front door bell.

'Hartley, would you answer that?' said Marianne,  separating the antagonists. She tried to consolidate  the forced armistice by-changing the conversation  and Pelman seemed much readier to accept this  from her.

'If this weather keeps up, we'll get some good  riding tomorrow. Are you going out, John?'

'No such luck. I haven't reached Hartley's stage of executive elevation yet. I still have to bring my work home with me. Besides, Sandra says riding  gives you a big bum.'

'John!' protested his wife. But she met Marianne's  quizzical gaze with the unruffled smile of one  whose own buttocks were as compact as a boy's.

'What is your job, Mr Bell?' asked Pascoe, trying to sound unlike a policeman. Nowadays he was  never sure when he succeeded.

'I'm sales director of Nuplax, the kitchen utensil  people. In Banbury.'

'That sounds very high-powered.'

'Oh, it'll do. But it's small time compared with Hartley. He's a top finance man with the Nordrill  group.'

Pascoe looked impressed to conceal his ignorance. Nordrill he had heard of. An up-and-coming  oil and mining consortium often in the news. But  just what such a job meant in terms of responsibility and reward he could not conceive.

'That must be worth a few bob,' he said knowingly.

'It keeps him comfortable. Eh, Marianne?'

Bell's gesture included the woman as well as  the unostentatious luxury of the room. Marianne  smiled, but with little humour.

'I didn't realize Nordrill were centred in the  Midlands,' said Ellie.

'Oh, they're not. But London's no distance with a decent car and a
pied-a-terre
if you don't fancy the  drive back.'

Lucky old Hartley, thought Pascoe.

Lucky old Hartley re-entered accompanied by Dr Hardisty who, from the length of time they had taken, must have been giving as well as receiving information. With him was his wife, either younger or better preserved, with the brisk movements and reassuring smile that Pascoe associated  with the nursing profession. It seemed a probable guess.

They hardly had time to express anxiety over  Ellie's well-being and regret over Rose's death, at  the same time studiously avoiding any reference  to Colin, before the bell rang once more. This time  Marianne went and after the inevitable delay, reappeared by herself.

'Hartley,' she said quietly. 'Do you have a  moment?'

Culpepper left the room. Pascoe wandered over  to the sideboard and freshened his drink generously. He was a firm believer in the social maxim 
from each according to his ability
and there was  evidence of a great deal of ability here.

Bell joined him.

'Does Palfrey do most of the social liquor trade  round here?' Pascoe asked, holding the bottle of  scotch like a conversation piece.

'Christ, no!' said Bell with his likeable grin. 'The odd bottle when you're stuck, perhaps. But who's  going to pay his prices when you can get the same  stuff for 15p less in town? Don't let our outward  affluence deceive you, Mr Pascoe. Hartley may have an antique superior wine-merchant tucked away in the City, but the rest of us still push trolleys  round the supermarkets.'

'Big of you to refuse to take advantage of your wealth,' said Pascoe, softening the comment with  his own likeable grin. He had no desire to antagonize Bell. And he did want to talk about Palfrey. Why, he wasn't sure. Personal antipathy? Well, he  had no official standing in this case, so the presence  of personal prejudice could for once be ignored.

'How does Palfrey fit into the local scheme of  things?' he went on. But his policeman's voice  must have sounded through.

'You're very interested in old JP,' commented Bell curiously. 'Is it because of the row? If so, I  really don't think I should comment. Not during  a casual chat in a friend's house.'

Being without official standing clearly cut both ways. Pascoe tried another smile. It didn't feel quite as likeable as the last.

'Why JP?' he asked. 'Just his initials?'

Or is there some bloody masonic oath which  prevents you from answering that?

Bell laughed.

'Yes, they are his initials.' He glanced around  and dropped his voice. 'But they do service for  other things besides. He's got ambitions to get on  to the bench. God help all petty offenders if that  happens! But they really stem from our vicar. He's  a nice little Welshman, just one step out of the  coalmine. He recalls in the old days in his village,  a local copper-smelting firm hired a man to go around the streets every morning with two great  buckets on a yoke. Everyone would empty their  jerries into them!'

He laughed so heartily that the others stopped  talking and turned to look. Like a disturbance at a  funeral, thought Pascoe, surprised to find himself  feeling embarrassed.

They used the stuff in some process at the  copper-works,' explained Bell. 'Anyway, this man  was known familiarly as Jim Piss! And the vicar,  after his first taste of the bitter at the Eagle when  Palfrey took over, told the story. The name stuck,  but for politeness's sake, it became JP.'

Very droll, thought Pascoe. But it took him no  further forward. He wasn't even very sure in which  direction
forward
lay.

The Culpeppers were in the room again, he  observed. But there had been no noticeable  addition to the company. Which might or might  not be odd.

Ellie was talking to the Hardistys and looking desperate. Pascoe could see why. Medical solicitude emanated from them almost visibly. He appproached to effect a rescue, but it proved  unnecessary.

'Please excuse me,' she said to the medical twosome. 'I think I'll have an early night.'

Simple as that, thought Pascoe, smiling ruefully  at his loss of role. In times of stress, the weakness  of others is a useful source of strength. Ellie's self-possession was throwing him more and more into a confrontation with his own emotions, making him more and more of a policeman in order to  retain his equilibrium.

But what the hell was there to investigate here? He looked hopefully around the room.

Ellie was at the door, reassuring Marianne that  all her needs were catered for. She caught his eye  and smiled briefly, then was gone. He felt a sense  of relief, edged with guilt. With Ellie out of the way, there might be a chance to provoke some  reactions. Pelman seemed the best bet. He had  seemed much in favour of plain speaking on his  arrival, though now he seemed content to turn  the treadmill of social trivia with the rest. At the  moment he was complaining about the cost of  estate management.

'You're a working member of the community  then?' asked Pascoe brightly. 'You don't just sleep  here.'

The Bells and Hardistys exchanged a glance  which told Pascoe he had been inept in his choice of words. John Bell seemed very amused, the others  less so.

'Yes, Mr Pascoe. I have a dairy herd and one of the biggest hen batteries in this part of the world.  I work for my living.'

A hint of sneering stress on 'work'? Pascoe  wasn't sure.

'So do we all,' smiled Dr Hardisty, perhaps  having felt it also. Pelman grunted and sipped  his drink.

'If you like what you're doing, it's not work,' said Bell with mock sanctimoniousness.

'Do you like
your
job?' asked Sandra Bell suddenly. 'What is it you do, Mr Pascoe?'

Doesn't she know? Or is she just trying out her claws? She seemed a nice woman, but Pascoe felt  far from competent to judge.