Dialogues of the Dead

361 'Sorry?' 'Her with the silver flash and the funny name.' 'Rye. I assumed it was Rye you were referring to. It was the participle I had difficulty with.' 'There's these tablets you can take. I said, are you banging her? whanging her? slipping her the yard of porridge? stirring her custard with your spoon? twiddling with her twilly-flew?' That got a reaction but it was only a faint almost complimentary smile. 'Am I having a relationship with Rye, you mean? No.' 'But you'd like to?' 'She is an attractive woman.' 'That a yes?' 'Yes.' 'Got anything going at the moment?' 'A sexual outlet, you mean? No.' 'So how do you manage?' 'Manage what?' 'Manage not to embarrass yourself every time you stand up. Man in his prime, all parts working, getting horny whenever'! you look at your assistant, and you and Charley have grown; out of giving each other a helping hand, so what do you do? Pay'ii for it?' | 'I don't get the drift of your questions, Mr Dalziel.' , 'We never said owt about drift, just that I could ask anything I wanted and you'd answer truthfully. You got a problem with' that?' J 'Only an intellectual one. I understood there'd been no sexual; overtones in these killings, so I'm curious why you seem concerned | to focus on my sexuality.' .f 'Who said there'd been no sexual overtones?' ^ '» 'You'll recall I have in fact read three of the five Dialogues so'; I can draw my own conclusions from them. Only one woman;' has been attacked and there was nothing in what I read in thati episode which suggested a sex motive. In fact there is, how shall; I put it, an almost sexually sterile atmosphere about the whoW' affair.' ^ 'You're sounding a bit defensive.' | 'Am I? Ah, I'm with you. You're being provocative again. If I^ am the Wordman and my motive is completely non-sexual, then all these questions about my sex life might trigger a reaction at being so grossly misunderstood, is that the idea?' 'Reaction like this one, you mean?' 'Not being the Wordman, I could not be so precise. But I should say the impression I got from my reading was of someone clever enough to see through your little stratagem earlier than I did, and not let himself be provoked.' 'Or clever enough to appear slightly less clever than he really is.' 'Now that would be really clever. But surely such a paragon of cleverness would never let himself fall into your clutches for close questioning anyway?' 'Put your finger in it there, Mr Dee. Let himself/all. Seems to me the fellow I'm thinking of might actually enjoy a little chat like this, face to face with the enemy and running rings round him.' 'It would, I think, be a long run. I speak metaphorically, of course. Forgive me if I seem to have erred towards overfamiliarity, but I do feel that anyone trying to run rings round you, Mr Dalziel, had best come equipped for a marathon. But how am I doing in my puny effort to persuade you I am not your man? I must confess I feel my strength failing.' He did a little mime of exhaustion and, as if in sympathy, all the lights went out and the hubbub of sound effects which had provided a foil to their conversation ceased. The ensuing silence was short. The voices of Bird and Follows rose in angry unison demanding what the hell was happening, then parted into contrapuntal duet as each sought to find a way of off-loading responsibility on to the other. Dalziel and Dee felt their way out of the dark tabema into the market place where people were striking matches or flashing torches to give a dim illumination. The door of the calidarium opened and a man wearing swimming trunks and dripping water stepped out followed by a puff of smoke. 'Enter Dagon, downstage, left,' murmured Dee. 'What the hell's going on?' demanded the man angrily. 'Something electrical blew up in there and I'm sitting over my arse in racking water!'