For one moment Pascoe thought they must have caught him – how had Dalziel put it? – tupping a typist in his intray.
‘Come in, come in,’ said Elgood irritably. ‘Thank you, Miss Dominic.’
The secretary retreated. Elgood closed the door behind her and said, ‘Have a chair. Have a drink. And don’t say “not on duty”. It’s Lucozade. I like to keep my energy up. Sit down. Sit down.’
Pascoe sat down. The room was bigger and pleasanter than the outer office, but still no state apartment. Nice carpet; pretty curtains framing a pleasant view once the eye travelled beyond the industrialized foreground and the suburbanized middle-distance to the rich blue-green of the pastoral horizon; walls papered a bit like an Indian restaurant and hung with some rather gaudy stilllifes and a big photograph of a fiftyish-suited group formally arranged outside a works gate over which arched in letters of wrought iron the name Elgood.
Elgood poured Pascoe a Lucozade and sat himself behind an old-fashioned, very sturdy desk. There was a sheet of newspaper opened on it and on the paper a half-eaten pork pie.
‘Lunch,’ said Elgood, following his gaze. ‘You’ve eaten? Lucky man. You’ve come at a bloody inconvenient time, I tell you. I may have to chuck you out a bit rapid. On the other hand, I may be able to sit and rabbit on with you all day. You never can tell.’
‘About what?’ enquired Pascoe.
‘About workers’ meetings. We’re having to make cutbacks like everyone else. I had the shop stewards in on Wednesday to tell ’em how the Board sees things. They’ve spent two days deliberating and this lunch-hour they called a full-scale meeting in the works canteen. It’s still going on. So that’s it, plant and offices idle till they get through yakking.’
‘Your office staff are involved as well?’ said Pascoe, surprised.
‘Most of ’em. I don’t have two worlds here, Mr Pascoe, never have done. Same works, same perks, that’s always been my motto, though there’s a lot outside that don’t like it. But I’ve always got on well with the men who work for me. That’s why I’ve hung on here so long.’
Pascoe, though he had the feeling that this apparent forthrightness was just another version of Dandy Dick’s circumlocution which was aimed for some reason at skirting the topic of Aldermann, was interested enough to ask, ‘But I thought that would be part of the deal, when I.C.E. took you over.’
Elgood laughed.
‘Oh aye, it was part of the deal. But a company bent on a take-over’s a bit like a lad desperate to have it away – he’ll promise owt till the deal’s done, but once his wick’s dipped, it takes more than a happy memory to make him keep his word. But whenever anyone’s wanted shut of me, there’s been enough wise heads at I.C.E. to know that peace at Perfecta means money in their pockets, so I’ve stayed. The lads here know me, I know them. That’s why I’m here now. Instant availability, that’s what I offer them. While they’re down there talking, they know I’m up here waiting. But let’s get you out of the way, shall we? I’m beginning to think I’ve been a bit headstrong, to tell you the truth. I should’ve thought on before coming round to see you. The last thing I need at the moment is you lot poking around and stirring things up.’
‘What specific bit of poking did you have in mind?’ asked Pascoe politely.
‘Nothing specific,’ said Elgood in irritation. ‘But coming round here like this. And I bet you’ve been asking questions. You haven’t been asking Aldermann questions, have you? I hope to God you had enough sense not to do that!’
‘No, I haven’t asked Mr Aldermann any questions,’ said Pascoe. ‘Though I did in fact send someone round to his house, but it was on another matter entirely, please believe me. But I must say he reported nothing suspicious.’
Pascoe half expected an angry outburst at this revelation of his oblique approach to Aldermann but Elgood merely responded with heavy sarcasm, ‘What did he expect, bloodstains on the carpet?’
Pascoe ignored this and proceeded, ‘I’ve also looked carefully at such reports as exist on the deaths of your Mr Eagles and Mr Bulmer. There doesn’t appear to be an untoward circumstance in either case.’
‘No?’ Elgood sounded almost relieved. ‘Well, I was mebbe a bit upset the other day. You can get things out of proportion, can’t you? I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.’
Perversely, Elgood’s apparent desire to drop the matter provoked Pascoe into pressing on. He dumped the plastic bag on the desk.
‘I’ve got your lamp here, sir. Our technical staff checked it out. A worn connection caused the trouble.’
‘Bloody lousy workmanship, as usual,’ grumbled Elgood.
‘It could have been worn deliberately,’ said Pascoe. ‘By rubbing it against the edge of a desk, for instance.’
‘Was there any sign of that?’
‘No,’ admitted Pascoe. ‘But no positive evidence it didn’t happen either. Similarly with your garage door. The spring had gone and the whole counterweight system was therefore out of operation. Wear and tear, metal fatigue, or …’
‘Or what, Inspector?’ said Elgood irritably. ‘Is there owt or is there nowt?’
Pascoe shrugged and said enigmatically. ‘Nowt. Either way.’
Elgood rose and wandered across the room, glancing at his watch. He came to a halt in front of the photograph of the group at the works gate.
‘So I’ve made a bit of a charley of myself,’ he said. ‘Well, it happens to everyone, I suppose.’
‘Not very often to you, I shouldn’t have thought,’ said Pascoe.
‘Not often,’ agreed Elgood. ‘Once in a blue moon, though, a man’s entitled to act a bit daft. Well, I’ve had my turn, and I hope it’ll see me out. Thanks for calling, Inspector.’
He turned to face Pascoe, but the Inspector did not take his cue to depart.
‘There was one other thing,’ he said. ‘Something which seemed to have a better chance of fitting in with your notion that Mr Aldermann was shoving people out of his way rather recklessly. You had a Mr Burke working here once, didn’t you?’
‘Chris Burke? Aye. What about him?’
Elgood’s face was thrust forward attentively, bright eyes alert.
‘If I understand it right, Aldermann came here in the first instance on a part-time basis?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘And would never have joined the staff full time if a vacancy hadn’t occurred, the vacancy being caused by the death of Mr Burke who was assistant to Mr Eagles, your Chief Accountant?’
‘So?’
‘So,’ said Pascoe. ‘Here’s another death that helped advance Mr Aldermann.’
‘Don’t be bloody daft! That was four years ago!’ said Elgood.
‘There’s no time-limit on criminal inclination,’ Pascoe pontificated. ‘And the circumstances of Mr Burke’s death look far more suspicious than either Mr Eagles’s or Mr Bulmer’s.’
‘What circumstances?’
‘I understand he fell off a ladder and broke his neck.’
‘And that’s suspicious? Christ, you do scrape around, you lot, don’t you? Look, Inspector, I’m sorry you’ve been bothered. I just got a daft bee in my bonnet, that’s all. I’m sorry. It’ll have given Andy Dalziel a good laugh, any road, so it hasn’t been an entire waste. Now I really am a bit busy, so if you don’t mind …’
Pascoe