A Pinch of Snuff. Reginald Hill

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СКАЧАТЬ a word some people would find it easy to apply to what goes on here, Dr Haggard,’ said Pascoe.

      ‘Not a word many people find it easy to apply to much of what goes on in schools today, Inspector.’

      ‘Still, for all that …’ tempted Pascoe.

      Haggard regarded him very magisterially.

      ‘My dear fellow,’ he said. ‘When we’re much better acquainted, and you have proved to have a more than professionally sympathetic ear, and I have been mellowed by food, wine and a good cigar, then perhaps I may invite you to contemplate the strange flutterings of my psyche from one human vanity to another. Should the time arrive, I shall let you know. Meanwhile, let’s stick with your presence here tonight. Have my neighbours undergone a new bout of hysteria?’

      ‘Not that I know of,’ said Pascoe. ‘No, it’s about one of your films. One I saw tonight. Droit de Seigneur.’

      ‘Ah yes. The costume drama.’

      ‘Costume!’ said Pascoe.

      ‘Did the nudity bother you?’ said Haggard anxiously.

      ‘I don’t think so. Anyway it was the assault scene I wanted to talk about, where the girl gets beaten up.’

      ‘You found it too violent? I’m astounded.’

      ‘The scene was brought to my attention …’

      ‘By whom?’ interrupted Haggard. ‘Has he not seen A Clockwork Orange? The Exorcist? Match of the Day?’

      ‘I would like you to be serious, Dr Haggard,’ said Pascoe reprovingly. ‘What do you know about the making of these films?’

      ‘In general terms, very little. You probably know more yourself. I’m sure the diligent Sergeant Wield does. I am merely a showman.’

      ‘Of course. Look, Dr Haggard, I wonder if it would be possible to see part of that film again. It’ll help me explain what I’m doing here.’

      Haggard finished his drink, then nodded.

      ‘Why not? I’m intrigued. You could always gatecrash again, of course, but I suppose that might compromise your reputation. Besides, we only have that film until the weekend, so let’s see what we can do.’

      Downstairs again, Haggard left Pascoe in the viewing room and disappeared for a few moments, returning with a small triangular-faced man with large hairy-knuckled hands, one of which was wrapped round a pint tankard.

      ‘Maurice, this is Inspector Pascoe. Maurice Arany, my partner and also, thank God, my projectionist. I am mechanically illiterate.’

      They shook hands. It would have been easy, thought Pascoe, to develop it into a test of strength, but such games were not yet necessary.

      As well as he could he described the sequence he wished to see, and Arany went out. Haggard switched off the lights and they sat together in the darkness till the screen lit up. Arany hit the spot with great precision and Pascoe let it run until the entry of the vengeful husband.

      ‘That’s fine,’ he said and Haggard interposed his arm into the beam of light and the picture flickered and died.

      ‘Well, Inspector?’ said Haggard after he had switched on the lights.

      ‘My informant reckons that was for real,’ said Pascoe diffidently.

      ‘All of it?’ said Haggard.

      ‘The punch that knocks the girl down.’

      ‘How extraordinary. Shall we look again? Maurice!’

      They sat through the sequence once more.

      ‘It’s quite effective, though I’ve seen better,’ said Haggard. ‘But on what grounds would you claim it was real, if by real you mean that some unfortunate girl really did get punched?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Pascoe. ‘It has a quality … I’ve seen a few fights, and that kind of …’

      He tailed off, uncertain if he was speaking from even the narrowest basis of conviction. If he had seen the film without Shorter’s comments in his mind, would he have paid any special attention to the sequence? Presumably hundreds of people (thousands?) had sat through it without unsuspending their disbelief.

      ‘I’ve seen people burnt alive, decapitated, disembowelled and operated on for appendicitis, all I hasten to add in the commercial cinema,’ said Haggard. ‘So far as my own limited experience of such matters permitted me to judge, I was completely convinced of the verisimilitude of these scenes. I shouldn’t have thought dislodging a few teeth was going to present the modern director with many problems.’

      ‘No,’ said Pascoe. He was beginning to feel a little foolish, but under Dalziel’s tutelage he had come to ignore such social warning cones.

      ‘Can I see the titles, please?’ asked Pascoe.

      Haggard addressed Maurice Arany again and as the titles rolled, Pascoe made notes. There wasn’t a great deal of information. It was produced by a company called Homeric Films and written and directed by one Gerry Toms.

      ‘A name to conjure with,’ said Pascoe.

      ‘It must be his own,’ agreed Haggard.

      ‘You don’t know where this company is located, do you?’

      ‘It’s a mushroom industry,’ said Haggard. ‘It probably no longer exists.’

      ‘But there have been other films from the same people?’

      Haggard admitted there had.

      ‘Perhaps your distributor could help.’

      ‘I wouldn’t bank on it, but you’re welcome to the address.’

      Upon this co-operative note, they parted. Pascoe sat in his car in the Square for some time until other members of the audience began to leave. There were no overt signs of drunkenness, no undue noise in the way they entered and started their cars, and certainly no suggestion that anyone was about to roam around the Square all night in search of some luckless resident to assault and ravish.

      When he got home, Ellie was sitting in front of the television eating a dripping sandwich.

      ‘Good meeting?’ he asked.

      ‘Useless,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you declare a police state and shoot the bastards? You know what they said? Higher education might be a luxury this authority could no longer afford!’

      ‘Quite right,’ he said, regarding her affectionately. She was worth his regard. Friends at university, they had met again during an investigation at Holm Coultram College where Ellie was a lecturer. After some preliminary skirmishing they had become lovers and then, the previous year, got married. It was not an easy marriage, but nothing worthwhile ever was, thought Pascoe with a swift descent into Reader’s Digest philosophy.

      ‘You СКАЧАТЬ