Dialogues of the Dead

97 desk was a box containing small plastic tiles with letters and numbers on, plus three wooden tile racks, standing on a large folded board. Presumably this was Paro-whatsit, the crazy word game Rye had told him about. He caught her eye and risked a smile. She didn't smile back. Pascoe took her and Dee through the events of the morning with clinical precision while Hat took notes, glancing through the panel from time to time to make sure the journalist was keeping a safe distance. When she said that the first thing she picked out of the open sack had been Charley Penn's translation of one of Heine's poems, Hat felt yet another pang of this silly jealousy. 'So Mr Penn was in the library already when you arrived?' 'Oh yes.' 'And saw everything?' 'Mr Penn doesn't miss much,' said Rye carefully. 'I didn't notice him when we arrived just now,' said Pascoe. 'No,' intervened Dee. 'Charley said that there would probably be so much fuss in the library that he'd be better off working at home.' >From the faint smile that accompanied this, Hat guessed it was a paraphrase of what Penn had actually said. 'And home is where?' Dee stumbled over the address and Rye came in and recited it correctly. Did this mean she'd actually been there? wondered Hat, jealousy once more bubbling up, without, he hoped, showing on his face. She'd already picked up he was jealous of her fondness for Dee. Let her get the impression he was some kind of possessive nut and that could really fuck up his prospects. Finally Pascoe was satisfied. Leaving the two librarians in the office, he moved out with Hat. Near the library door, Bird and Follows were continuing their running row while Ruddlesdin, chewing on an unlit cigarette, spectated with world-weary indifference. The dispute stopped when Pascoe called, 'Gentlemen!' and all three moved to join him. He stepped aside to usher them into the office. 'I'm finished here,' he said. 'Thank you for waiting so patiently.' Then, to Hat's delight and admiration, he gently closed the door behind them and moved towards the exit at a pace which stopped just short of running. Ruddlesdin caught up with them just before the door of the car-park lift closed. 'Quote, Pete,' he gasped. 'Give us a quote.' 'Smoking can seriously damage your health,' said Pascoe. 'Where are we going, sir?' asked Hat as they got into the car. 'To talk to Charley Penn, of course,' said Pascoe. Penn's flat was on the top floor of a converted Edwardian townhouse which was corralled in scaffolding and resonant with the shouts, crashes, clangs and radio music which proclaim to the world that the British workman is earning his pay. They found Penn on his way out. With a resentful glower, he turned round and led them back into his apartment, saying, 'Would you bloody believe it, I fled the library, thinking it was soon going to be echoing to the heavy plod of constabulary feet, making it impossible to work, and came back to this hell?' 'But you must have known that work was going on,' said Pascoe. 'They hadn't started when I left and I thought, Saturday morning, maybe the buggers refuse to get out of their pits unless they get quadruple time.' 'So what are they doing?' 'My landlord's tarring the building up, reckons he can get five times what he paid for it a couple of years back if he sells it as a single dwelling.' The writer showed his uneven teeth in a canine grin. 'But he's got to get shut of me first, hasn't he?' While these pleasantries were being exchanged, Hat took a look around. The flat, so far as he could work out without being too obvious, consisted of a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and the room they were in. High-ceilinged and with a deep bay window which gave a good view (even framed in scaffolding) over the interesting roofscape of the older part of town, it had a sense of spaciousness which not even the detritus of a determined bookman could disguise. There was a huge desk in the bay, its surface completely hidden by papers and books which overflowed on to the floor a couple of metres in all directions. At the other side of the room stood a green-baized antique card table with a rotatable top on