Read Online Exit Lines by Reginald Hill - Free Book Online

skin and leave a dent,' said Seymour patiently. He had bright red hair and an underlying Celtic volatility of temper which he knew might prove a hindrance to advancement if he did not keep it firmly underlaid.
    'Couldn't this old fellow just've banged his head on the ground when he fell?' objected Hector.
    'The ground was soft, it had been raining,' said Seymour, stamping his foot into the muddy grass which the November sun's puny heat had not begun to dry. ‘It’s going to be a hell of a job finding something like that, just the two of us,' grumbled Hector, looking glumly out across the broad open space which included three football pitches and a children's play area.
    'Not finding it's the important thing,' said Seymour smartly. And this is where he lost Hector, to whom the easiest way of not finding something seemed to be not to look for it very hard.
    Convinced at last that looking was essential, he said, 'Wouldn't it be better if we had some idea of where to look before we started?'
    He was right, of course, for Seymour had made the error of driving directly to the Recreation Ground instead of diverting first to talk with the man who'd discovered Mr Parrinder. He regarded Hector with new eyes, and made the discovery that being not quite so stupid as he looked increased rather than diluted the fellow's unlikability. At least before he had been reliable.
    'You start looking,' he said. 'If you find anything, bag it and mark the spot. I'll go and talk to the fellow who found him.'
    The witness was called Donald Cox. He turned out to be a small, voluble, middle-aged man with worried eyes and a rather insinuating manner who lived with his wife, four children and a Great Dane in a basic semi about half a mile from the Alderman Woodhouse Recreation Ground. Or perhaps, thought Seymour, it would be more accurate to say that the Great Dane occupied the house and the Cox family fitted round it as best they could.
    'He needs his exercise, don't you, Hammy?' said Cox proudly. 'Only reason I was out. He'd missed his afternoon walk, I usually take him morning, afternoon and evening, three times a day, well, I've got the time now, haven't I, since they closed the works and put us all on the dole. I wish I could claim for Hammy here, you'd think they'd make an allowance, wouldn't you, he's like one of the family, and it was very nasty all afternoon so I thought, I'll just wait till later, it might fair up, but it just got worse and worse. Not a night to put a dog out in, they say, but this dog's got to go whatever the weather, if a day goes by without he's put at least five miles on the clock, there's no peace. He'll run up and down the stairs till three in the morning if that's the only way he can get his exercise, won't you, Hammy? Round and round the recreation ground he goes, round and round, by Christ I wish I had his energy. Don't worry, lad! He's got a lovely nature!'
    It was Hammy's lovely nature, in fact, which was bothering Seymour as the dog attempted to demonstrate its affection by scrambling on his lap.
    'If you could just show me where you found Mr Parrinder,' he said, trying in vain to rise.
    'Pleasure. Hammy'd love a run out, wouldn't you, boy? You've brought your car, have you? Well, he likes a ride too, though you'll have to have your windows open, can't bear to be shut in a confined space.'
    It was a chilly and chilling return journey to the recreation ground. The dog occupied the whole of the back seat with its head protruding from one window and its tail wagging out of the other. An amiable fog-horn bark into the ear of an overtaking motorcyclist nearly caused an accident.
    'It's the white helmet,' said Cox complacently. 'He thinks it's a bone.'
    Between the barking and the apologetic waves at the other road-users, Seymour managed a few questions. No, there'd definitely been no one else in sight on the recreation ground. Only idiots and Great Dane owners were out on such a night. Mind you, it had been very dark. In