'Yes, Chief Inspector,' said the young woman.
Flashing the female constable a surreptitious smile, Pamela led the way.
They went to a place by the tarn where there were shade trees, picnic tables and benches. Along the way, the young woman introduced herself.
'I'm Heather Morris. This here is Paul Whitehead.' After a long moment, she confided, 'I think the Chief was glad to be rid of me. Bloody misogynist wouldn't even let me go with you without an escort.'
Paul, a shy, introverted young man, managed a guilty look at this, but it was apparent that he watched Heather, herself a healthy-looking attractive girl, with an interest that had absolutely nothing to do with escorting or police work. He was painfully obvious, which made the two girls share a smirk. Then, when they had seated themselves, purely on impulse, and just for the devil of it, Pamela handed Jennie over to Heather, ignoring the young woman's feeble protests, and well knowing the effect this would have on Paul Whitehead. When Jennie took an instant liking to her, Heather shot Pamela a glance that said eloquently, "One day, when you least suspect it, I am going to repay the favour."
'So, why do you say that Mr. Matthews is a misogynist?' Pamela said. 'He's always nice enough to me.'
'Why?' Heather said. 'Because I just happen to be a woman, and we just happen to be in the area where that Askrigg fruitcake is supposedly lurking about, and because of that, the Chief Inspector no longer sees me as a cop!'
Sizing the young woman up at a glance, Pamela said with utter conviction, 'You only say that because you've never laid eyes on him. You're not much bigger than me, and he picked me up like I weighed nothing. He's like . . . have you ever read Beowulf?' Pamela hadn't actually read it, but Mrs. Pascoe had read it to her one afternoon. She read to the girl often, thinking she needed culture. Pamela thoroughly enjoyed the experience and felt at moments like this that it was actually paying off. To her surprise, Heather's eyes dilated with barely concealed fear.
As though fearing to be overheard, she replied in a low voice, 'That's about the tenth time I've heard Albert Askrigg referred to as Grendel! You're not really saying that he's-'
'Yes,' Pamela cut her off, and with fatal certainty added, 'he really is like that.'
'And you somehow managed to get away from him,' the young constable said in wonder. 'So that's what all the fuss is about.'