Dialogues of the Dead

The good thing about Pascoe was that he didn't nurse grudges, or at least didn't seem to, which might of course be the bad thing about Pascoe. Hat had volunteered to go and interview Roote about his visit to the Taverna but the DCI had said no, and then, as was usual with him though unusual in most senior officers, gone on to explain his reasoning. 'Roote doesn't know your face - unless you've alerted him?' 'No way, sir,' said Hat confidently. 'Let's keep it that way then. I'll send Sergeant Wield to do the interview. He is, of us all, the most ... how shall I put it? ... unreadable. If anyone can convince Roote he's just a possible witness like everyone else who dined at the Taverna, then it's Wield. Of course, that's all that Roote probably really is. A possible witness.' Oh yes, thought Hat. But you're hoping like mad he's a lot more than that! 'Meanwhile,' said Pascoe, 'you get yourself round to the Gazette. Ripley was killed late last night. Unless the Dialogue was written in advance, and it certainly doesn't read like that, it must have got into the bag some time in the ten hours before nine this morning when it was found. I want to know how. I'll double check the library end. Meet me there when you're done. And, Hat, play it cool, eh? All hell's going to break loose when the press get on to this story. Let's stretch out the calm before as long as we can!'

Hat's visit to the Gazette office didn't last long. Pascoe's hopes for a breathing space proved vain. News of the latest Dialogue had already reached here, and Mary Agnew was more interested