A Killing Kindness by Reginald Hill Read Free Book Online Page B

Rashid connection,' said Wield.
    'And met Dave Lee through it?'
    Pascoe shook his head even as he spoke.
    'It's stretching things a bit,' he said. 'Still, it's  worth checking. Fancy a trip to the fairground to  have your fortune told?'
    Wield shrugged.
    'I go where I'm sent,' he said indifferently.
    'All right,' said Pascoe. 'It's twelve now. Have  your lunch, then with your vigour fully restored go and cross the lady's palm with silver. Either lady,  depending whether you prefer mutton or lamb.'
    I must stop this nudge-nudge, wink-wink bit, he  thought as Wield left. I'm getting more like Dalziel  every day!
    A few moments later the phone rang. It was the  desk sergeant.
    'There's a lady here wants a word with someone  in CID, sir,' he said. 'It's a Mrs Rosetta Stanhope.'
    'What? Oh, look, Sergeant Wield probably wants  to speak with her anyway, so let him sort it out,  will you? He should be on his way out any moment  now.'
    'He just went past, sir. I don't think he noticed  the lady. He seemed in a bit of a hurry.'
    'The bastard!' swore Pascoe. 'He's opted for lamb.  All right. Wheel her in.'
    Rosetta Stanhope had adapted well to her chosen  environment. In her late fifties, her hair tightly  permed with just the suggestion of a blue rinse,  dressed in a stylishly cut grey suit with toning  shoes and handbag, she could have chaired a WI  meeting or opened a flower show without remark. Only a certain rather exotic stateliness of bearing  and darkness of skin which even a carefully layered  mask of make-up could not disguise hinted at her  origins.
    Her voice was quiet, a little hoarse, perhaps; the  result of twisting her vocal cords to produce her  spirit voices? wondered Pascoe.
    'I met your niece this morning,' said Pascoe. 'You  haven't seen her?'
    The woman considered, then smiled.
    'You're quite right, Mr Pascoe. I wouldn't do  Madame Rashid dressed like this. And I wouldn't  go home specially to change just to impress a  policeman.'
    Pascoe was impressed. She'd cut right to the  source of his question. Not that you needed to be a  mind-reader, but it was a good policeman's trick.
    'So you've left your niece in charge of the  future?'
    Lucky old Wield.
    'I didn't feel able today,' she said. 'I don't put on  a show. It's got to be right.'
    'What about Pauline?'
    Mrs Stanhope made an entirely un-English moue  of dismissal.
    'Palmistry,' she said. 'It's a craft. You learn it.'
    Pascoe decided to do a bit of short-cutting  himself.
    'I'm afraid you're not going to be able to get  an apology out of us, Mrs Stanhope. It wasn't our  doing. A denial perhaps, but I tried that yesterday  and you saw the report. I'm sorry it upset you.'
    'I'm not upset, Inspector,' she said. 'Don't heed  our Pauline. She probably told you I'm not very  practical? Well, I'm practical enough to let her  think so. She needs to be looking after folks,  that one. It probably comes of never knowing her  mother.'
    'You brought her up from birth, I believe,' said  Pascoe. 'I'm surprised she doesn't regard you as  her mother.'
    'She did when she was young, poor mite. But  she had to be told. I remember she was twelve  and casting her own horoscope. It wouldn't come  right. Well, it wouldn't, would it? Bert and me  had always decided to tell her. It was a relief in  a way.'
    'Why so?'
    'She knew about me and my background. I'm  proud of it, why not? And Bert always used to joke  that he'd stolen me from the gypsies. Pauline and  me, we got very close, but I could see it was a bit  difficult for a young lass thinking she'd got a gypsy  mother but not feeling of the blood, if you follow.  It were odd, but when we told her, it seemed to  bring us even closer together.'
    'And finally she joined that side of the family  business?'
    'She could hardly become an engine-driver,  could she, even in this age,' said Rosetta Stanhope  lightly.
    'I believe it's possible,' said Pascoe, suddenly  picturing Thelma