Free Dying Fall by Sally Spencer Page B

you,’ Polly said, wishing she’d ordered a single malt rather than a humble blend. ‘But to what do I owe this sudden burst of generosity?’
    Or to put it another way, she thought, if I’m not expected to pay for my drink with money, how
am
I expected to pay for it?
    â€˜Terrible thing, this tramp being burned alive,’ Lowry said.
    â€˜Terrible,’ Polly agreed.
    â€˜But I still think we’re in danger of overreacting to it,’ Lowry continued.
    â€˜Really?’ Polly asked.
    She took a sip of whisky, and wished again that she had asked for a malt.
    â€˜Nearly every policeman in Whitebridge will be on the streets tonight. I can’t tell you how much that is going to cost us in overtime.’
    â€˜You don’t need to tell me,’ Polly Johnson countered. ‘I’ve seen the balance sheets. I can work it out for myself.’
    â€˜Well, there you are, then,’ Lowry said. ‘And the problem is, you see, that if we use up vast amounts of the police budget on this case, where will we find the resources when we have to deal with a really serious crime?’
    â€˜You mean that you don’t think burning someone alive
is
a serious crime?’ Polly asked.
    â€˜Oh, it’s
very
serious,’ Lowry said hastily. ‘And I’m hopeful that the police will make an arrest soon. But, when all is said and done, our main responsibility is to protect our ratepayers – and tramps don’t pay rates.’
    â€˜True enough,’ Polly agreed.
    â€˜You’d think the police would see that,’ Lowry ploughed on. ‘Indeed, some of them do. Henry Marlowe’s very sound on the subject. But there’s one particular chief inspector who’s being very difficult.’
    Polly chuckled. ‘That would be Charlie Woodend,’ she said.
    â€˜How … how do you know that?’
    â€˜Easy. Charlie’s made a
career
out of being difficult.’
    â€˜You know the man socially, do you?’ Lowry asked, sounding a little troubled by the news.
    â€˜Not socially, only professionally,’ Polly Johnson said.
    Lowry visibly relaxed.
    Which was a big mistake, Polly thought – because professional bonds, if they were strong ones, could be as binding as love. And her bonds with Woodend
were
strong, since twice before – after the Dugdale’s Farm murder and the Mary Thomas case – she had trusted him enough to go out on a limb, and in both those cases her trust had been more than justified.
    â€˜I was hoping for your support in—’ Lowry began.
    â€˜You won’t get it,’ Polly Johnson said.
    â€˜You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you yet,’ Lowry protested.
    â€˜You’re going to ask me to help you nobble Cloggin’-it Charlie. Well, you’re wasting your time.’
    â€˜We won the last election on a promise to reduce council spending,’ Lowry pointed out.
    â€˜You and your party won it on that promise,’ Polly countered. ‘I’m an independent.’
    â€˜Even so …’
    â€˜You’ve seen the same public-opinion polls that I have, haven’t you?’ asked Polly, who was really starting to enjoy herself. ‘Your party’s support’s down, and you personally are losing ground to Councillor Scranton, who, if I’ve heard right, intends to stand in your own ward.’
    â€˜You’ve heard right,’ Lowry said glumly.
    â€˜All of which means, as I see it, that you have to fulfil nearly all your pledges, or you’ll be out on your ear next time.’
    â€˜Every party experiences a dip in popularity mid-term,’ Lowry said sulkily. ‘It doesn’t mean that on the day …’
    â€˜So in order to protect your seat on the council – and so you can continue to be a big fish in what’s really a very small and murky pond – you’re prepared to leave