information. I’ve no excuse to be in the main building except to see Rich or Ned. And I doubt if I’ll often be able to coax Ned out to lunch. He prefers to mess up his desk at lunchtime while he slurps yoghurt and eats organically-grown bean sprouts. And I wouldn’t fancy my chances of getting any more information out of Jenn — at least not until I can get her drunk again — which I refuse to do before I’ve invested in a chastity belt.’
Pooley looked crestfallen.
‘Don’t worry, Ellis, I’ve got a few ideas up my sleeve.’
‘E.g.?’
‘I’d rather not talk about them yet, if you don’t mind.’
Pooley hid his disappointment. ‘Oh, yes, of course.’
‘Now, from your end—’
Pooley put up his hand. ‘Let me guess. You want me to try to locate some people who worked at the school round about the time Rich Rogers came on the scene and have them discreetly pumped.’
‘Got it in one, Ellis.’
Amiss looked at his watch, saw that it was after one and got up to go.
‘Why don’t you come to me next Saturday? Though I have to warn you it’s a small flat and if you want to pace you’ll have to do it outside.’
‘Great. And obviously if anything much comes up, we’ll try to get together during the week.’
‘One last thing,’ said Amiss, as he put on his coat. ‘I’m having dinner with Jim Milton tomorrow. What do I say? It’s really very difficult being friends with both of you at a time like this.’
‘What would you normally tell him?’
‘Everything.’
‘Then that’s what you have to do,’ said Pooley. ‘Leave it to him to do the worrying about how to handle this three-cornered relationship. He’s the Super, and he’s used to making decisions. We have to trust him not to come the heavy.’
----
9
« ^ »
Bloody young fools, thought Milton. He accelerated into the fast lane, where he remained until he noticed his speedometer was registering almost 85 m.p.h. Guiltily, he joined the law-abiding motorists in the middle lane.
But come to think of it, were they bloody young fools? After all, he had given his tacit approval to getting Amiss involved in the first place. Why had he poured so much cold water on his ideas the previous night, simply because he had been talking about mysterious foreigners rather than about tangible evidence? This was a friend of his who had been a doughty ally in the past, strong on useful information and sound deduction and rarely if ever given to flights of fancy. That was more Pooley’s style. Then he remembered that it was Pooley’s flights of fancy that had led only a couple of months before to the arrest of the BCC murderer.
Was he old at thirty-nine? Or sliding imperceptibly into the caution of the senior man? He tried to find some distraction on the radio, but the news programmes had nothing that held his attention. He saw the signs for a service station coming up, looked at his watch and pulled into the slow lane.
Amiss jumped out of his shower and dripped over the telephone.
‘Hello, Robert. It’s Jim.’
‘I thought you’d be on your way to Bramshill.’
‘I am. I stopped on the way to apologise.’
‘For what?’
‘For being a middle-aged stick-in-the-mud. I don’t know if you two are on the right track, but what you’re doing sounds worth a try, and if you ever need to call on me, don’t hesitate.’
‘Jim?’
‘Yes.’
‘I never thought I’d be reduced to saying “You’re a pal,” but I’m feeling inarticulate.’
‘That’ll be the day,’ said Milton cheerily and he rang off.
Amiss’s reluctance early on Sunday morning to expose his ideas to Pooley’s eager gaze had had little to do with the slight unspoken rivalry between them. It had had much more to do with a sudden embarrassed realisation that they were threadbare in the extreme. Idea One: Charm Rich into giving him a job with the BP’s. Idea Two: Hang around Jenn’s office pretending to be a bit struck on her. Terrific. Especially since he
Pooley looked crestfallen.
‘Don’t worry, Ellis, I’ve got a few ideas up my sleeve.’
‘E.g.?’
‘I’d rather not talk about them yet, if you don’t mind.’
Pooley hid his disappointment. ‘Oh, yes, of course.’
‘Now, from your end—’
Pooley put up his hand. ‘Let me guess. You want me to try to locate some people who worked at the school round about the time Rich Rogers came on the scene and have them discreetly pumped.’
‘Got it in one, Ellis.’
Amiss looked at his watch, saw that it was after one and got up to go.
‘Why don’t you come to me next Saturday? Though I have to warn you it’s a small flat and if you want to pace you’ll have to do it outside.’
‘Great. And obviously if anything much comes up, we’ll try to get together during the week.’
‘One last thing,’ said Amiss, as he put on his coat. ‘I’m having dinner with Jim Milton tomorrow. What do I say? It’s really very difficult being friends with both of you at a time like this.’
‘What would you normally tell him?’
‘Everything.’
‘Then that’s what you have to do,’ said Pooley. ‘Leave it to him to do the worrying about how to handle this three-cornered relationship. He’s the Super, and he’s used to making decisions. We have to trust him not to come the heavy.’
----
9
« ^ »
Bloody young fools, thought Milton. He accelerated into the fast lane, where he remained until he noticed his speedometer was registering almost 85 m.p.h. Guiltily, he joined the law-abiding motorists in the middle lane.
But come to think of it, were they bloody young fools? After all, he had given his tacit approval to getting Amiss involved in the first place. Why had he poured so much cold water on his ideas the previous night, simply because he had been talking about mysterious foreigners rather than about tangible evidence? This was a friend of his who had been a doughty ally in the past, strong on useful information and sound deduction and rarely if ever given to flights of fancy. That was more Pooley’s style. Then he remembered that it was Pooley’s flights of fancy that had led only a couple of months before to the arrest of the BCC murderer.
Was he old at thirty-nine? Or sliding imperceptibly into the caution of the senior man? He tried to find some distraction on the radio, but the news programmes had nothing that held his attention. He saw the signs for a service station coming up, looked at his watch and pulled into the slow lane.
Amiss jumped out of his shower and dripped over the telephone.
‘Hello, Robert. It’s Jim.’
‘I thought you’d be on your way to Bramshill.’
‘I am. I stopped on the way to apologise.’
‘For what?’
‘For being a middle-aged stick-in-the-mud. I don’t know if you two are on the right track, but what you’re doing sounds worth a try, and if you ever need to call on me, don’t hesitate.’
‘Jim?’
‘Yes.’
‘I never thought I’d be reduced to saying “You’re a pal,” but I’m feeling inarticulate.’
‘That’ll be the day,’ said Milton cheerily and he rang off.
Amiss’s reluctance early on Sunday morning to expose his ideas to Pooley’s eager gaze had had little to do with the slight unspoken rivalry between them. It had had much more to do with a sudden embarrassed realisation that they were threadbare in the extreme. Idea One: Charm Rich into giving him a job with the BP’s. Idea Two: Hang around Jenn’s office pretending to be a bit struck on her. Terrific. Especially since he
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