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A Clubbable Woman

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Год написания книги
2019
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A Clubbable Woman
Reginald Hill

‘So far out in front that he need not bother looking over his shoulder’ Sunday TelegraphDetective Superintendent Andy Dalziel investigates murder close to home in this first crime novel featuring the much-loved detective team of Dalziel and Pascoe.Home from the Rugby club after taking a nasty knock in a match, Sam Connon finds his wife more uncommunicative than usual. After passing out on his bed for a few hours, he comes downstairs to discover communication has been cut off forever – by a hole in the middle of her forehead.Andy Dalziel, a long-standing member of the club, wants to run the murder investigation along his own lines. But DS Peter Pascoe’s loyalties lie elsewhere and he has quite different ideas about how the case should proceed.

REGINALD HILL

A CLUBBABLE WOMAN

A Dalziel and Pascoe novel

Copyright (#ulink_5323b509-68f6-54e4-a5da-1382583ae89c)

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Harper An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by

HarperCollinsPublishers 1970

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

Copyright © Reginald Hill 1970

Reginald Hill asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks.

HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.

Source ISBN 9780586072585

Ebook Edition © July 2015 ISBN 9780007390823

Version 2015-06-18

Dedication (#uebec2f68-3c14-53a2-96c6-209794ccbf68)

For Pat

Contents

Cover (#udb48f1d1-1979-5f57-a810-6dee52cc21b9)

Title Page (#ue71b21d9-f1ab-5bf6-984d-ddb4f2d72da6)

Copyright (#u85a06d99-37be-5999-a1e4-e12544c8c1e3)

Dedication (#uc4cdf026-764a-5946-bf9a-7a58513b1d7d)

Chapter 1 (#u8a4f444c-d663-5778-8148-db0f196790b6)

Chapter 2 (#uf487b8f9-6aa9-5eb6-8b2c-70574661db91)

Chapter 3 (#u6f6fc0fb-ad3b-522f-8fec-af9fc553762e)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Envoi (#litres_trial_promo)

Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 1 (#ulink_ff8f3747-6fde-545f-9f8c-f6f146f900f9)

‘He’s all right. You’ll live for ever, won’t you, Connie?’ said Marcus Felstead.

His head was being pumped up and down by an unknown hand. As he surfaced, his gaze took in an extensive area of mud stretching away to the incredibly distant posts. Then his forehead was brought down almost to his knees. Up again. Fred Slater he saw was resting his sixteen stones, something he did at every opportunity. Down. His knees. The mud. One stocking was down. His tie-up hung loose round his ankle. It was always difficult preserving a balance between support and strangulation of the veins. But it was worth it. Once the mud hardened among the long black hairs, it was the devil’s own job to get it off. Up again. He resisted the next downward stroke.

‘Why do you do that, anyway?’ asked Marcus interestedly.

‘I don’t know,’ said a Welsh voice. ‘It’s what they always do, isn’t it? It seems to bloody well work.’

‘You all right then, Connie?’

Connon slowly got up with assistance from the Welshman whom he now recognized as Arthur Evans, his captain.

‘I think so,’ he said. ‘What happened?’

‘It was that big bald bastard in their second row,’ said Arthur. ‘Never you mind. I’ll fix him.’

There was a deprecating little cough from the referee who was lurking behind Connon.
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