Read Online An April Shroud by Reginald Hill - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Reginald Hill
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glowed, suddenly a warm nap had seemed best of all things.
He had pondered a long time on the events of the day and decided that though there was enough in this household to make him curious, so far it was curiosity at a personal rather than professional level. There must have been an inquest on Fielding and the usual investigations. It wouldn't require much effort on his part to get an unofficial look at the finding. But he had no intention of doing so. Oh no. This was an interesting interlude, a bit damper but probably a bit more lively than following a guide round some mouldy cathedral or making conversation with some poofy hotel barman. But tomorrow he'd be on his way. If they couldn't do anything about his car, then sod it. He'd hire another and collect his own later.
Relaxed by his resolve, he fell asleep.
When he awoke it was quarter to six and he was starving. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, scratched his groin sensuously and headed for the bathroom.
What kind of nosh did they dish up here? he wondered as he pushed open the door. Old Fielding had made some nasty crack about Mrs Greave, the cook. But it'd have to be very bad to blunt Dalziel's appetite tonight.
The bathroom was full of steam. He paused in the doorway. Someone moved among the wraith of vapour and he had no difficulty in recognizing Mrs Fielding though her head was half covered by a towel and the rest of her body was not covered by anything but a healthy post-hot-bath glow.
'Beg, pardon,' he said, stepping back and closing the door. But he couldn't close out the mental picture of what he had seen and when he sat down on the bed, he realized he had the beginnings of an erection.
He whistled softly as he considered the phenomenon. He was far from being a sexual obsessive. Indeed, since his wife had left him, his sex life had been minimal. Not that opportunity was short. Like any society dedicated to money and male chauvinism, Yorkshire provided the kinds of relief strong men need from the pressures of the day. But a police officer had to be very careful. It was on the surface a very conventional society and scandals were easily kindled. As for paying for it, Dalziel refused on a point of pride rather than principle.
So generally he went without. It wasn't too difficult. With age, lust became an aesthetic tingle rather than a physical shock. It was a long time since desire had manifested itself to him so uncompromisingly as this!
He felt absurdly pleased with himself, as though something valuable had been proven. She was a fine-looking woman, mature, well-fleshed, without the flabbiness which his own once well-muscled body had declined to. He looked down at himself with distaste and his pleasure drained away at the thought that this ton of lard was all that she had had to look at in return. Not many women reacted to the pleasures of visual stimuli in the same way as men, but revulsion at ugliness must be a shared reaction.
There was a tap at the bathroom door and he jumped up, and dragged a blanket off the bed and wound it round him.
'May I come in?' she called.
'Yes,' he answered.
She entered, wearing a dressing-gown and carrying with her a coathanger festooned with his clothes.
'This lot's dry,' she said. 'I've been over them with an iron, so they should be fit to wear.'
'That's kind,' he said stiltedly.
'I brought them an hour ago, but the bedroom door was locked. You must be a distrustful soul, Mr Dalziel. Whereas me, I don't even remember to lock the bathroom.'
She laughed as she spoke, but he took it as a rebuke.
'I'm sorry, Mrs Fielding,' he began.
'For what?' she said. 'I'd be sorry if you were altogether sorry. We'll be eating soon. First come, first served, so I shouldn't hang about.'
She went back through the bathroom and Dalziel followed her a few moments later, making sure the door into the farther bedroom was locked before setting about his ablutions.
She was a kind woman, he thought, and she didn't shock easily. But that was
He had pondered a long time on the events of the day and decided that though there was enough in this household to make him curious, so far it was curiosity at a personal rather than professional level. There must have been an inquest on Fielding and the usual investigations. It wouldn't require much effort on his part to get an unofficial look at the finding. But he had no intention of doing so. Oh no. This was an interesting interlude, a bit damper but probably a bit more lively than following a guide round some mouldy cathedral or making conversation with some poofy hotel barman. But tomorrow he'd be on his way. If they couldn't do anything about his car, then sod it. He'd hire another and collect his own later.
Relaxed by his resolve, he fell asleep.
When he awoke it was quarter to six and he was starving. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, scratched his groin sensuously and headed for the bathroom.
What kind of nosh did they dish up here? he wondered as he pushed open the door. Old Fielding had made some nasty crack about Mrs Greave, the cook. But it'd have to be very bad to blunt Dalziel's appetite tonight.
The bathroom was full of steam. He paused in the doorway. Someone moved among the wraith of vapour and he had no difficulty in recognizing Mrs Fielding though her head was half covered by a towel and the rest of her body was not covered by anything but a healthy post-hot-bath glow.
'Beg, pardon,' he said, stepping back and closing the door. But he couldn't close out the mental picture of what he had seen and when he sat down on the bed, he realized he had the beginnings of an erection.
He whistled softly as he considered the phenomenon. He was far from being a sexual obsessive. Indeed, since his wife had left him, his sex life had been minimal. Not that opportunity was short. Like any society dedicated to money and male chauvinism, Yorkshire provided the kinds of relief strong men need from the pressures of the day. But a police officer had to be very careful. It was on the surface a very conventional society and scandals were easily kindled. As for paying for it, Dalziel refused on a point of pride rather than principle.
So generally he went without. It wasn't too difficult. With age, lust became an aesthetic tingle rather than a physical shock. It was a long time since desire had manifested itself to him so uncompromisingly as this!
He felt absurdly pleased with himself, as though something valuable had been proven. She was a fine-looking woman, mature, well-fleshed, without the flabbiness which his own once well-muscled body had declined to. He looked down at himself with distaste and his pleasure drained away at the thought that this ton of lard was all that she had had to look at in return. Not many women reacted to the pleasures of visual stimuli in the same way as men, but revulsion at ugliness must be a shared reaction.
There was a tap at the bathroom door and he jumped up, and dragged a blanket off the bed and wound it round him.
'May I come in?' she called.
'Yes,' he answered.
She entered, wearing a dressing-gown and carrying with her a coathanger festooned with his clothes.
'This lot's dry,' she said. 'I've been over them with an iron, so they should be fit to wear.'
'That's kind,' he said stiltedly.
'I brought them an hour ago, but the bedroom door was locked. You must be a distrustful soul, Mr Dalziel. Whereas me, I don't even remember to lock the bathroom.'
She laughed as she spoke, but he took it as a rebuke.
'I'm sorry, Mrs Fielding,' he began.
'For what?' she said. 'I'd be sorry if you were altogether sorry. We'll be eating soon. First come, first served, so I shouldn't hang about.'
She went back through the bathroom and Dalziel followed her a few moments later, making sure the door into the farther bedroom was locked before setting about his ablutions.
She was a kind woman, he thought, and she didn't shock easily. But that was
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