The Wood Beyond

The drenching dark which had finally made them abandon the hunt the previous night had been replaced by fitful sunlight, but visibility did little to make the job more attractive.

‘Could lose a man down there,’ said Wield looking down into the water-filled crater.

‘I can think of a couple we’d not miss,’ said Dalziel. ‘Even if we pump it out, the mud’s going to be a problem.’

‘The lads last night reported a lot of big granite slabs,’ said Wield. ‘They should give us something to work from. But you’re right. We could spend more time digging each other out than old bones.’

‘Same thing in my case,’ said Dalziel. ‘Good God, have you got a twin or what?’

This last was to Troll Longbottom who was edging his way towards them along the duckboards.

‘Just thought I’d check to see if you had anything more for me yet,’ he said with a smile which wouldn’t have looked out of place at a pirate masthead.

‘Oh aye?’ said Dalziel. ‘If they’d asked you to take a look at Julius sodding Caesar, you’d have told ’em to wait till they invented the video camera. So how come twice in twelve hours I’ve found you up to your fetlocks in clart, breathing fresh air?’

‘Friendship, Andy. Friendship.’

‘Well thanks a lot, Troll. I didn’t realize you cared.’

‘Not for you,’ said the pathologist with a grimace not so different from his smile. ‘For David Batty.’

‘What’s that mean? You shagging his missus or something?’

‘Or something, Andy. So, anything more for me to look at?’

‘Give us a chance! And did you not get plenty last night? Thought all you needed for a life history was a fingernail and a pinch of belly-button fluff.’

‘You flatter me,’ said Longbottom. ‘But I do need just a little more in order to confirm my preliminary dating.’

‘You’ve got a dating? Why’d you not say so? Come on, let’s hear it.’

‘I should say from what I’ve seen so far that the remains were certainly more than five years old.’

‘More than five?’ echoed Dalziel in disgust. ‘Is that the best you can manage? I’ve got lads just out of training could have come up with that!’

‘Well, it was mainly monosyllabic, wasn’t it? What I really need is a jawbone. You can tell a lot from dental work. And a bit of flesh would be a real godsend.’

He spoke with such enthusiasm that Dalziel laughed.

‘Tell you what, Troll,’ he said. ‘If I were you, I’d turn vegetarian.’

‘And I you,’ said the pathologist elliptically, prodding the Fat Man’s gut. ‘Now I must be off. Some of us have work to do.’

‘I’ll be in touch,’ bellowed Dalziel after him, then turning to Wield he asked, ‘So, what do you think?’

‘Bit of mutual backscratching?’ suggested Wield. ‘This Batty’s not just Research Director, he’s the son and heir of Thomas Batty who owns the whole company. Useful contact for Mr Longbottom.’

‘Don’t use a lot of drugs when your specialty’s dead ’uns,’ objected Dalziel.

‘I think you’ll find Mr Longbottom’s an influential man on his NHS Trust’s governing body, sir. Also I hear he’s got a twenty-per-cent share in that new private hospital on the Scarborough Road.’

‘By God, Wieldy, I thought mebbe life out among the turnip tops were turning you soft, but now I see it’s turning you cynical!’

‘I just state the facts, sir,’ said Wield. ‘And here’s another. ALBA, as Mr Longbottom likely knows, have been here just four years.’

‘Meaning Troll’s saying the bones are at least five years old just to stress that Batty and his staff can’t be in the frame? You don’t reckon he’s fixed the figures as a favour, do you?’

‘No, sir. I’d mebbe not care to do business with him, but when it comes to his job, as we’ve all found out, he doesn’t give an inch. You’ve known him longer than anyone, but, so you must know that.’

‘I’m afraid so, Wieldy,’ sighed Dalziel. ‘Pity though. If I thought he’d stretched it to five for Batty, I’d have made bloody sure he stretched it to fifty for me. Still, it’s early days. Mebbe it’ll still turn out to be archaeology. I’m off to have another word with Batty, tell him the good news.’

‘I bet you’ll find Mr Longbottom’s told him already,’ said Wield.

‘Very like, but one thing you’re forgetting, Wieldy.’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘The wanker keeps a nice drop of malt. See about getting this water shifted, will you?’

‘My pleasure,’ said Sergeant Wield.

This morning there was a receptionist on duty in the hessian-hung hall. She informed Dalziel that the director was in the labs but would no doubt make himself available as soon as was convenient. Meanwhile if the superintendent cared to take a seat …

Ex-Constable Howard was hovering behind her. He’d changed his burnt trousers but looked pretty bleary eyed.

‘Working you hard, aren’t they?’ said Dalziel sympathetically.

‘Bit short staffed, sir. Also Dr Batty wanted extra men on duty.’

‘Someone should tell him about stable doors. Someone like me. Take me to the labs, lad.’

Without hesitation, Howard opened one of the doors and led the way through pursued by the receptionist’s indignant twitter.

To Dalziel’s inexpert eye, the lab he entered looked like a cross between a small menagerie and a high-class bog. Batty’s features crinkled in a frown when he saw Dalziel but cleared almost immediately. He’d learned quickly – probably coached by Longbottom – that you didn’t trade blows with the Fat Man, not unless you’d got a horseshoe up your boxing glove. Last night he’d poured the Scotch with a generous hand and they’d parted on excellent terms which didn’t prevent either from heartily despising the other.

‘Andy,’ he said. ‘Good morning. Any news?’

Nowt the Troll won’t have told you already, thought Dalziel. And nowt that a drop of the Caledonian cream wouldn’t improve.

‘Just thought I’d let you know we’ll be working out there most of the day, I’m afraid. Good news is them bones were likely here when your company took the place over, so I shouldn’t have to bother your staff.’

‘Excellent. We’re very busy at the moment so could ill afford an interruption. And, Andy, I must compliment you on the way you’ve handled the media. Hardly a mention this morning. Our PR Department are very impressed. Many thanks both personally and on behalf of ALBA.’

Dalziel smiled with false modesty. False, not because he hadn’t called in a lot of favours and up a lot of threats to minimize response to all the phone calls Marvell had made as soon as she got home, but because he permitted this twat to go on thinking it had anything to do with him or his sodding company.

‘When we’ve got a closer dating we’ll need to look back at the history of the house,’ he said.

‘Anything we can do to help, you’ve just got to ask,’ said Batty. ‘As I explained last night, all the records will be stored at Kirkton of course.’