Read Ruling Passion for Free Online

to it. If  she's seen your friends more recently, it might  help.'
    'Yes,' said Pascoe, leading the way to the car.  He stepped out of the cottage with a great sense  of relief.
    'The inquest will be opened in the village school  this afternoon,' said Backhouse. 'Just identification  and causes of death, I should think. The usual  procedure. Two-thirty. We won't need Miss Soper  at this stage. I'll send a car for you.'
    'Yes.'
    The rest of the short journey passed in silence.  I'm a serious disappointment to him, thought  Pascoe. All that kindness wasted.
    Ellie was still asleep, so Pascoe went downstairs  once more. Mrs Crowther put her head out of the  kitchen door and asked how the lady was.
    'Sleeping,' said Pascoe. 'But she's got her colour  back.'
    'Good. It'll do her good. You'll be hungry, I don't  doubt. What about a gammon rasher and egg?'
    'No, I couldn't put you out,' protested Pascoe,  realizing, slightly to his surprise, how hungry he  was.
    'Not a bit. Crowther'll be in any minute for his,  so it's no bother at all.'
    It was a well cooked meal, interrupted twice by  the telephone.
    The first time it was Dalziel.
    'You all right?' he asked.
    'Fine,' said Pascoe.
    I've got your report on the Cottingley break-in  here. You write like a bloody woman's magazine  advertiser. When you mean he pissed in the kettle,  why the hell don't you write he pissed in the  kettle?'
    'Sorry.'
    'He's a dirty bastard this one. But clever with it.  If we don't get him soon, he'll be retiring. How's  your girl?'
    'Resting. She'll be OK.'
    'Good. They're going after your mate, I hear.'
    'That's right.'
    'Aye. We've had the look-out notice up here.  What do you think? Did he do it?'
    'It looks bad.'
    'But you don't think so? Well, listen. A word of  advice. Don't get mixed up more than you have  to. Say your piece, sign your statement and get  on home. Leave it to Backhouse. He's a bit of an  old woman, but he's not a bad jack. And don't be  taken in by his good manners. He'll drop you in  the cart if he thinks it'll help.'
    'Yes, sir. We'll probably get back tomorrow.'
    'I should bloody well hope so. You're due in here  at eight-thirty on Monday morning. Don't be late.  Cheeroh.'
    And up you too, thought Pascoe, looking at the  receiver. The fat bastard was probably congratulating himself on his subtle psychological therapy.
    The phone rang again as Mrs Crowther reached into the oven for his warming plate. This time to  his surprise it was Hartley Culpepper.
    'I hoped I'd find you there, Mr Pascoe. Look, it  struck me after I left you at the cottage, are you  staying in the village tonight?'
    'Well, yes,' said Pascoe, surprised. 'Yes, I expect  we are.'
    'Have you fixed up anything yet?'
    'No. Not yet. I haven't really thought,' answered  Pascoe. It was true, he hadn't given a thought to  what they would do that night. The Crowthers, he  suspected, would at a pinch keep Ellie, but it would  mean a great deal of inconvenience for them.
    'Perhaps one of the pubs,' he mused aloud.
    'Nonsense,' said Culpepper firmly. 'We would be  delighted if you would stay with us. I was going  to ask you and your friend to come to dinner,  anyway. So why not bring your bags with you?  This must have been a terrible strain for both of  you. It'll do you good - it will do us all good - to  be in friendly company. Please come.'
    'It's very kind of you,' said Pascoe doubtfully.
    'Good,' interrupted Culpepper. 'We'll expect  you, about tea-time then. The Crowthers will be  able to direct you. Goodbye.'
    Everyone else is having the last word today,  thought Pascoe,
    Constable Crowther had arrived home and  was taking his place at the other side of the  kitchen-table. He nodded an acknowledgement  at Pascoe and settled down to eating his meal.
    Either hunger or some form of diplomacy kept  him silent, and Pascoe himself did not speak  until he had disposed of his food without further