Free Deadheads by Reginald Hill

bit more of a display. Or perhaps it was simply a delayer, like a landscape gardener's tortuous and narrow path before the trees open wide for the surprise view. Miss Dominic knocked. The door was flung open. The view was a surprise.
    Elgood, looking most undandified, stood there jacketless, with his waistcoat undone, his tie awry, his hair ruffled, and an amber-liquored glass in his hand.
    For one moment Pascoe thought they must have caught him - how had Dalziel put it? - tupping a typist in his in-tray.
    'Come in, come in,' said Elgood irritably. 'Thank you, Miss Dominic.'
    The secretary retreated. Elgood closed the door behind her and said, 'Have a chair. Have a drink. And don't say "not on duty". It's Lucozade. I like to keep my energy up. Sit down. Sit down.'
    Pascoe sat down. The room was bigger and pleasanter than the outer office, but still no state apartment. Nice carpet; pretty curtains framing a pleasant view once the eye travelled beyond the industrialized foreground and the suburbanized middle-distance to the rich blue-green of the pastoral horizon; walls papered a bit like an Indian restaurant and hung with some rather gaudy still-lifes and a big photograph of a fiftyish-suited group formally arranged outside a works gate over which arched in letters of wrought iron the name Elgood.
    Elgood poured Pascoe a Lucozade and sat himself behind an old-fashioned, very sturdy desk. There was a sheet of newspaper opened on it and on the paper a half-eaten pork pie.
    'Lunch,' said Elgood, following his gaze. 'You've eaten? Lucky man. You've come at a bloody inconvenient time, I tell you. I may have to chuck you out a bit rapid. On the other hand, I may be able to sit and rabbit on with you all day. You never can tell.'
    'About what?' enquired Pascoe.
    'About workers' meetings. We're having to make cutbacks like everyone else. I had the shop stewards in on Wednesday to tell 'em how the Board sees things. They've spent two days deliberating and this lunch-hour they called a full-scale meeting in the works canteen. It's still going on. So that's it, plant and offices idle till they get through yakking.'
    'Your office staff are involved as well?' said Pascoe, surprised.
    'Most of 'em. I don't have two worlds here, Mr Pascoe, never have done. Same works, same perks, that's always been my motto, though there's a lot outside that don't like it. But I've always got on well with the men who work for me. That's why I've hung on here so long.'
    Pascoe, though he had the feeling that this apparent forthrightness was just another version of Dandy Dick's circumlocution which was aimed for some reason at skirting the topic of Aldermann, was interested enough to ask, 'But I thought that would be part of the deal, when I.C.E. took you over.'
    Elgood laughed.
    'Oh aye, it was part of the deal. But a company bent on a take-over's a bit like a lad desperate to have it away - he'll promise owt till the deal's done, but once his wick's dipped, it takes more than a happy memory to make him keep his word. But whenever anyone's wanted shut of me, there's been enough wise heads at I.C.E. to know that peace at Perfecta means money in their pockets, so I've stayed. The lads here know me, I know them. That's why I'm here now. Instant availability, that's what I offer them. While they're down there talking, they know I'm up here waiting. But let's get you out of the way, shall we? I'm beginning to think I've been a bit headstrong, to tell you the truth. I should've thought on before coming round to see you. The last thing I need at the moment is you lot poking around and stirring things up.'
    'What specific bit of poking did you have in mind?' asked Pascoe politely.
    'Nothing specific,' said Elgood in irritation. 'But coming round here like this. And I bet you've been asking questions. You haven't been asking Aldermann questions, have you? I hope to God you had enough sense not to do that!'
    'No, I haven't asked Mr Aldermann any questions,' said Pascoe.