now arrived’
interrupted the presenter, seeing his producer making
for-God's-sake-hurry-this-along signals from the control room.
Dalziel clearly felt much the
same. He'd returned with drinks and was sitting next to Cap on the
sofa, glowering at the screen with an intensity of hatred which he
usually only saved for winning Welsh rugby teams.
'So Lord Elsecar has put the
Hoard on the market’ continued the presenter at a gallop. 'The
best offer to date has been from America, the British Museum has been
given the chance to match it, but so far, even with lottery money and
a public appeal, they're still well short of the mark. So as a last
gasp, and following a suggestion made, one might even say a pressure
exerted, by the Yorkshire Archaeological Society led by yourself, the
Elsecars have agreed for the Hoard to go on tour, with all profits
from admission charges to go to the Save Our Hoard Fund. Will they do
it?'
Belchamber made hopeful noises.
Cap Marvell laughed derisively.
'Not a hope,' she said. 'They're
so far short they'd need everyone in Yorkshire to go five times to
get anywhere near! First time I've seen a lawyer who can't add up!'
That's great,' said the
presenter. 'So there you are, all you culture vultures, take the
family along to see the money your ancestors spent and what they
spent it on back in the Dark Ages. The Hoard will be on exhibition in
Bradford till the New Year, then in Sheffield till Friday, January
twenty-fifth, after which it moves to Mid-Yorkshire. Don't miss it!
And now the Christmas Party. How many kids are you hoping to get this
year, Marcus?'
Dalziel stood up and said, 'Like
another drink?'
I've hardly touched this one,'
said Cap as she picked up the remote control and zapped the sound
off. 'But I can take a hint. Is there some all-in wrestling on
another channel you want to watch?'
'No. It's just I hear quite
enough of yon turd, Belcher, without letting him into my own parlour’
said Dalziel.
'I take it this means he
represents criminals and does a rather good job of it?'
'He does better than a good job,'
said Dalziel grimly. 'He bends the law till it nigh on breaks. Every
top villain in the county's on his books. I'm late tonight 'cos there
was a scare with our one witness in the Linford case, and guess who's
representing Linford.'
'You're not suggesting that
Marcus Belchamber, solicitor, gentleman, scholar and philanthropist,
goes around intimidating witnesses?'
'Of course not. But I don't doubt
it's him as told Linford's dad, Wally, that the case was hopeless
unless they got shut of our witness. Any road, it turned out a false
alarm and I left Wieldy soothing the lad.'
'Oh yes. Is the sergeant a good
soother?'
'Oh aye. He tells 'em if they
don't calm down, he'll have to stay the night. That usually does the
trick.'
Cap, who sometimes had a problem
working out when Dalziel's political incorrectness was post-modern
ironical and when it was prehistoric offensive, turned the sound back
on.
'You look awfully smart, Marcus,'
the presenter was saying. 'Off clubbing tonight?'
Belchamber gave the weary little
smile with which in court he frequently underlined some prosecution
witness's inconsistency or inanity, and said, 'I'm driving to Leeds
for the Northern Law Society's dinner.'
'Well, don't drink too much or
you could end up defending yourself.'
'In which case I would have a
fool for a client,' said Belchamber. 'But rest easy. I shall be
spending the night there.'
'Only joking! Have a good night.
It's been a privilege having you on the show. Ladies and gentlemen,
Marcus Belchamber!'
Belchamber rose easily from the
depths of his chair, the presenter struggled to get upright, the two
men shook hands, and the lawyer walked off to enthusiastic applause.
'He's a fine-looking man’
said Cap provocatively.
'He'd look better strapped on the
end of a ducking stool’ said Dalziel.
'And did you notice that DJ?
Lovely cut. Conceals the embonpoint
interrupted the presenter, seeing his producer making
for-God's-sake-hurry-this-along signals from the control room.
Dalziel clearly felt much the
same. He'd returned with drinks and was sitting next to Cap on the
sofa, glowering at the screen with an intensity of hatred which he
usually only saved for winning Welsh rugby teams.
'So Lord Elsecar has put the
Hoard on the market’ continued the presenter at a gallop. 'The
best offer to date has been from America, the British Museum has been
given the chance to match it, but so far, even with lottery money and
a public appeal, they're still well short of the mark. So as a last
gasp, and following a suggestion made, one might even say a pressure
exerted, by the Yorkshire Archaeological Society led by yourself, the
Elsecars have agreed for the Hoard to go on tour, with all profits
from admission charges to go to the Save Our Hoard Fund. Will they do
it?'
Belchamber made hopeful noises.
Cap Marvell laughed derisively.
'Not a hope,' she said. 'They're
so far short they'd need everyone in Yorkshire to go five times to
get anywhere near! First time I've seen a lawyer who can't add up!'
That's great,' said the
presenter. 'So there you are, all you culture vultures, take the
family along to see the money your ancestors spent and what they
spent it on back in the Dark Ages. The Hoard will be on exhibition in
Bradford till the New Year, then in Sheffield till Friday, January
twenty-fifth, after which it moves to Mid-Yorkshire. Don't miss it!
And now the Christmas Party. How many kids are you hoping to get this
year, Marcus?'
Dalziel stood up and said, 'Like
another drink?'
I've hardly touched this one,'
said Cap as she picked up the remote control and zapped the sound
off. 'But I can take a hint. Is there some all-in wrestling on
another channel you want to watch?'
'No. It's just I hear quite
enough of yon turd, Belcher, without letting him into my own parlour’
said Dalziel.
'I take it this means he
represents criminals and does a rather good job of it?'
'He does better than a good job,'
said Dalziel grimly. 'He bends the law till it nigh on breaks. Every
top villain in the county's on his books. I'm late tonight 'cos there
was a scare with our one witness in the Linford case, and guess who's
representing Linford.'
'You're not suggesting that
Marcus Belchamber, solicitor, gentleman, scholar and philanthropist,
goes around intimidating witnesses?'
'Of course not. But I don't doubt
it's him as told Linford's dad, Wally, that the case was hopeless
unless they got shut of our witness. Any road, it turned out a false
alarm and I left Wieldy soothing the lad.'
'Oh yes. Is the sergeant a good
soother?'
'Oh aye. He tells 'em if they
don't calm down, he'll have to stay the night. That usually does the
trick.'
Cap, who sometimes had a problem
working out when Dalziel's political incorrectness was post-modern
ironical and when it was prehistoric offensive, turned the sound back
on.
'You look awfully smart, Marcus,'
the presenter was saying. 'Off clubbing tonight?'
Belchamber gave the weary little
smile with which in court he frequently underlined some prosecution
witness's inconsistency or inanity, and said, 'I'm driving to Leeds
for the Northern Law Society's dinner.'
'Well, don't drink too much or
you could end up defending yourself.'
'In which case I would have a
fool for a client,' said Belchamber. 'But rest easy. I shall be
spending the night there.'
'Only joking! Have a good night.
It's been a privilege having you on the show. Ladies and gentlemen,
Marcus Belchamber!'
Belchamber rose easily from the
depths of his chair, the presenter struggled to get upright, the two
men shook hands, and the lawyer walked off to enthusiastic applause.
'He's a fine-looking man’
said Cap provocatively.
'He'd look better strapped on the
end of a ducking stool’ said Dalziel.
'And did you notice that DJ?
Lovely cut. Conceals the embonpoint
Similar Books
