A Pinch of Snuff

Crabtree ordered four halves of bitter.

‘And two rounds of ham, Cyril,’ he added. ‘Tell ’em it’s me and I like it cut with a blunt knife.’

‘They only serve halves in here,’ he said as they sat down. ‘Bloody daft. You’ve got to get them in twos. Wouldn’t do for Sitting Bull.’

‘Who?’

‘Dalziel. Your big chief. You know, I could have had his job.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ said Pascoe.

‘Oh yes. We were up before the same promotion board once. I thought I’d clinched it. They asked, are you as thick as Prince Philip? “Oh yes,” says I. “Twice as thick.”’

‘And what did Dalziel say?’

‘He said, “Who’s she”?’

The sandwiches arrived, filled with thick slices of succulent ham, and Pascoe understood the advantages of a blunt knife.

‘Do you know a company called Homeric Films?’ he asked for the sake of something to say.

Crabtree paused in his chewing.

‘Yes,’ he said after a moment and took another bite.

‘End of conversation, is it?’ said Pascoe.

‘You could ask if I’d seen any good films lately,’ said Crabtree.

‘All right. Have you?’

‘Yes, but none of ’em were made by Homeric. They’re a skin-flick bunch, but if you know enough to ask about them, you probably know as much as me.’

‘Why the pause for thought, then?’

‘I said you’d a sharp mind. Mebbe I was just chewing on a bit of gristle.’

‘It seems to me,’ said Pascoe, ‘that they have more sense here than to serve you gristle.’

‘True. No, truth is you just jumped in front of my train of thought. What’s your interest?’

‘No interest. They just cropped up apropos of something. What was your train of thought?’

Crabtree finished his first half and started on his second.

‘See in the corner to the left of the door?’ he said into his glass.

‘Yes,’ said Pascoe glancing across the room. Three people sat round a table in animated conversation. Two were men. They looked like brothers in their fifties, balding, fleshy. The third was a woman, gross beyond the wildest dreams of gluttony. Surely, thought Pascoe, no deficiency of diet could have produced those avalanches of flesh. She wore a kaftan made from enough shot silk to have pavilioned a whole family of Tartars in splendour, and girded quite a few of them into the bargain. Dalziel would love her. It is not enough (Pascoe paraphrased) to lose weight; a man must also have a friend who is grotesquely fat.

‘Homeric Films,’ said Crabtree. ‘They put me in mind.’

‘How?’ asked Pascoe but before Crabtree could answer, the huge woman rose and rolled across the room towards them.

‘Raymond, my sweet,’ she said genially. ‘How pleasant and how opportune. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?’

Pascoe stared in amazement. It was not just that on closer view he realized how much he’d underestimated the woman’s proportions. It was the voice. Seductive, amused, hinting at understanding, promising pleasure. He recognized it. He’d heard it on the phone that morning.

‘Inspector Pascoe,’ said Crabtree, rising. ‘I’d like you to meet Miss Latimer. Miss Latimer is managing director of Homeric Films.’

‘Why so formal, Ray? I’m Penelope to all Europe and just plain Penny to my friends. But soft awhile. Pascoe?’

‘We spoke this morning.’

‘So! When a girl says come up and see me, you let no grass grow!’

‘It’s an accident,’ said Pascoe unchivalrously. ‘But I’m glad to meet you.’

‘Join us, Penny?’ said Crabtree.

‘Just for a moment.’

She redistributed herself around a chair and smiled sweetly at Pascoe. She had a very sweet smile. Indeed, trapped in that flesh like a snowdrop in aspic, a small, pretty, girlish face seemed to be staring out.

‘Will you have a jar?’ asked Crabtree.

‘Gin with,’ said the woman.

‘It’s my shout,’ said Pascoe.

‘It’s my patch,’ said Crabtree, rising.

‘How’s the case, Inspector?’ asked Penny Latimer.

‘No case,’ said Pascoe. ‘People tell us things, we’ve got to look into them.’

‘And you’ve looked into Linda Abbott?’

‘Do you know her? Personally, I mean,’ countered Pascoe.

‘Only as an actress. Socially I know nothing, which was why we struck our little bargain, just in case. How were her teeth?’

‘Complete.’

‘Don’t sound so disappointed, dear. What now? Would you still like to see Gerry?’

‘I don’t know. Not unless I really have to. But you never know.’

‘You could spend an interesting day on the set,’ she said. ‘Really. I mean it. Do you good.’