By Reginald Hill
Now not for a moment did Pascoe admit the potential for demise. Dalziel was once indestructible. Dalziel is, and was once, and endlessly will be, international forever, amen . . . leader constables may perhaps come and leader constables may possibly move, yet fats Andy went on ceaselessly. Barreling his manner into an research of attainable terrorist actions, Superintendent Andy Dalziel is stuck within the blast of a tremendous explosion at a video shop—and in simple terms "Fat Andy's" substantial bulk prevents his colleague, leader Inspector Peter Pascoe, from agony an analogous destiny. Now Dalziel lies on a medical institution mattress slightly clinging to lifestyles, whereas Pascoe continues to be made up our minds to discover these accountable. however the fact isn't constantly cut-and-dried, and infrequently people who are sworn to terror's destruction are much more risky than the foe they need to annihilate.
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Additional info for Death Comes for the Fat Man (Dalziel and Pascoe Mysteries)
He moves his head back to look into his partner’s face. Instead of the lustrous brown bedroom eyes of Tottie Truman, he ﬁnds himself peering into the deep shadowy sockets of a skull whose toothy leer and vacant gaze have something familiar about them. Then recognition dawns. Dalziel laughs. “Hector, lad,” he cries. ” The skeletal ﬁgure does not reply but its grip tightens round the Fat Man’s broad frame and he ﬁnds his weary legs being urged into an even wilder dance which feels as if it will end only when those bony arms have squeezed out of him everything that makes up the life force—sun and wind and air and rain, good grub and mellow whisky, light and laughter—and whirled what little remains away into some icy eternity.
Wieldy,” said Pascoe. ” “At home making Rosie’s tea, I expect. She’ll be back later. ” “I’m ﬁne. What am I doing here? ” Wield saw Pascoe’s face spasm with remembered pain as he answered his own question. ” he demanded, trying to push himself upright. Wield pressed the button that raised the back of the bed by thirty degrees. “Intensive care,” he said. ” demanded Pascoe. “It’s only been . . ” His assertion turned to interrogation as he realized he’d no idea of the time. “Twenty four,” said Wield.
Ellie had promised herself when Rosie was born that she would never be anything but completely honest with her daughter. Often her resolution had been strained close to the breaking point but she’d always tried. Now she nodded and said, “Let’s hope so, love. Let’s hope so. But he is very ill and we’ve got to face it, maybe he’s so ill that he wouldn’t want to wake up, and he’ll just die. ” Her words clanged dully in her own ears, but Rosie’s expression didn’t change. “That doesn’t matter, ” she exclaimed.