Death of a Cave Dweller by Sally Spencer Page B

devils who’ve drawn the short straw.”
    Rutter frowned. “So you’re not really as confident as you sounded a few minutes ago?”
    â€œWell, of course I’m not sure,” Woodend replied. “Detection’s hardly a science at the best of times. It’s not like workin’ in a laboratory, when the only thing the rats are interested in is food, an’ there’s only two or three ways they can get it. Murderers’ minds are much more complicated than that. So I’m never confident I’m goin’ to get a result. An’ when I say that, I’m talkin’ about a result in the straightforward cases – which this one obviously isn’t. But one thing I am sure of – we’ll have more chance doin’ it my way than if we behaved like the good little bobbies Inspector Hopgood wants us to be.”
    â€œSo what line do you think we should be taking?”
    â€œI won’t know until I’ve had a root around an’ stirred things up a bit,” Woodend admitted, “but if you’re askin’ me to put my money on anythin’, I’d say we should start by lookin’ for a motive.”
    Inspector Hopgood returned, still looking flushed. “I’ve spoken to my Chief Super, sir,” he said, “and he says the last thing he wants to do is inhibit your investigation.”
    â€œI’m pleased to hear it,” Woodend said. “Now would you like to tell me what strings are attached?”
    â€œNo strings, sir,” the inspector replied unconvincingly. “But the boss did mention in passing that he would appreciate it if you’d keep him up to date with developments.”
    â€œA very reasonable request,” Woodend said easily. “Tell him to rest assured that as soon as they
are
any developments to be reported, he’ll be the first to know about them.” He checked his watch. “The club should be just about closin’ now. Time for us to make a move.”
    â€œYou’re going back to the Cellar?” Hopgood asked.
    â€œI am if my sergeant made the phone call I asked him to make. Did you, Sergeant?”
    â€œYes, sir,” Rutter replied, deadpan.
    Hopgood was slowly piecing things together. The quiet conversation the sergeant and the chief inspector had had in the doorway of the Grapes before Woodend went off to the club. The fact that Rutter had excused himself, saying he wanted a pee, and had been gone for nearly five minutes.
    This wasn’t how it was supposed to be at all! If anybody was to keep anything from anybody else, it should be him keeping vital facts from Woodend and Rutter, so he could conduct his own investigation. Yet despite the fact that the Scotland Yard men had been in Liverpool for only a couple of hours, they were already blind-siding him.
    â€œSo you made the call, Sergeant, but you didn’t think to tell Inspector Hopgood about it?” Woodend asked innocently.
    â€œMust have slipped my mind, sir,” Rutter confessed.
    Woodend shook his head. “These young lads we have to work with,” he said to Hopgood. “They’ve no idea how to a proper job, have they? I blame it on the army. You used to go in a boy an’ come out a man, but they seem to handle the conscripts with kid gloves these days.”
    Hopgood wasn’t fooled for a second – but then he suspected that Woodend hadn’t wanted him to be.
    â€œWould you like to tell me about the phone call
now
, sir?” he asked through gritted teeth.
    â€œOh aye. That list you gave us down at the Chandler’s Arms is already provin’ very useful. I asked the sergeant to phone the Seagulls’ manager at work, an’ tell him to round up his lads an’ meet us in the club as soon as it was closed for the afternoon. Did you succeed in that mission, Sergeant?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œSo that’s what we’re doin’, Inspector. We’re