Dialogues of the Dead

85 He grinned at the attempted gibe and moved away, saying, 'I fear not. How could my little light bear the glare of all that talent?' But she wasn't paying attention. As was her usual practice, she'd been dividing the stories into handwritten and typewritten, following which she would dump all those in the former group which didn't reach her increasingly exacting standards of legibility. But it was a typewritten sheet she had in her hands and was studying with growing agitation. 'Oh shit,' she said. 'In any case,' Dick Dee was saying, 'I dare say that despite Miss Ripley's efforts to stir it up, this will after all turn out to be nothing more than a storm in a tea-cup, leaving her (to redirect the image) with egg on her face, and your good self without so much as a breadcrumb on the snow-white lace doyley of your reputation.' It was, Rye had come to know, a habit of Dee's to coat his more acerbic ironies with garishly colourful layers of language, but the assurance seemed enough to mollify Percy Follows, a process signified physically as he came out of the office by an attempted smoothing down of his mane of golden hair which at times of stress exploded electrically like the tail feathers of a randy bird of paradise. I shouldn't bother, Perce, thought Rye. Dee followed, smiled at Rye and said, 'Good morning.' 'Morning. Sorry I was late,' she said, watching Follows and hoping he would leave the Reference. 'Were you? I'm not in a position to notice. I seem to have mislaid my watch again. You haven't seen it?' Dee's watch was a running joke. He didn't like working at a keyboard with it on, claiming it unbalanced his prose, but once removed it seemed to have what Penn called Femiveh, a longing to be somewhere distant. 'Try the middle shelf. It seems very fond of there.' He ducked down behind the reception desk, came up smiling. 'How clever of you. I'm back in time's ever rolling stream which means I suppose we should get down to some work. Percy, are we finished?' Follows said, 'I hope so, Dick. I hope we've heard the last of this silly business, but if there are any further developments, I want to be the first to know. I hope you and your staff understand that.' He looked accusingly at Rye who smiled at him, thought, OK, Perce, if that's what you want, let me make your day, and said to Dee, 'Dick, I'm afraid we've got another one.' She held up the sheets of paper carefully by one corner. She could see Dee understood her instantly but Follows was a little slower to catch on. 'Another. .. ? Oh God, you don't mean another of these Dialogue things? Let me see.' He attempted to snatch it from her fingers but she moved away. 'I don't think it would be too clever for anyone else to handle it,' she said. 'I think we ought to get it round to the police straightaway.' 'That's what you think, is it?' said Follows, his hair sun-bursting once again. She thought for a moment he was going to try ordering her to hand the Dialogue over. The library staff, he liked to claim, were one big happy family, but, as Dick Dee had once remarked, democracy was not a form of organization much practised in family life. But on this occasion Follows had enough sense not to push things to confrontation. 'Very well,' he said. 'And perhaps we should make a copy for Miss sodding Ripley while we're at it. Though it wouldn't surprise me if she didn't have one already.' 'No,' said Rye. 'I don't think so. Though she may be privy to the gist.' She shook the sheets of paper gently. 'I hope it's all a sick fantasy, but if I read this aright, I think the Wordman is telling us that he's just murdered Jax Ripley.'

87 Chapter Eleven