"Zak is, of course, not only the finest athlete of her generation ..." (If you're going to lay it on, lay it on thick, thought Joe.) '... but a trained and talented artist. So when it came to deciding who should perform this final opening ceremony here in the gallery tonight, there was only one possible choice. That lady of all the talents and all the graces, our very own, Zak Oto!"

Even more applause. Zak took centre stage looking very young, very shy, and very beautiful. Her voice, at first hesitant, quickly gained strength and she seemed to know instinctively that what was wanted was quality not quant.i.ty of words.

A few quick but vibrantly sincere thanks then ... 'and so it is with great pleasure that I declare this gallery and the whole of this splendid Pleasure Dome open."

She pulled on a ta.s.sel and the first curtain slid aside to reveal an ornately carved plaque bearing the Lutonian coat of arms and all necessary details of the occasion.

But it wasn't over yet.

She moved to the second curtain.

"Someone had the bright, or perhaps not so bright, idea that maybe they could hang one of my own paintings here permanently as another mark of the occasion," she said. "Well, one of the things I've learned as a runner is to know myself, to a.s.sess how far and how fast I can move. I think I'm making fair progress' Laughter 'but when I apply the same touchstone to my progress as an artist, I know just how far I've got to go. Maybe in ten years I'll have something I may dare to submit to public view here. At the moment all I would be doing is offering a permanent proof, by comparison with the work of really mature artists, of just how much I had to learn. So I said no. But the idea of having a permanent exhibition of the very best of local talent is a good one. And I thought I would set the ball rolling by presenting to this gallery, and to the lovely old town of my birth, a remarkable piece of art by someone whose name may surprise you but whose talent will astound you!

Joe looked fixedly at the un drawn curtain which showed the outline of something standing proud from the wall. Art he knew d.i.c.k about, but a length and breadth he could gauge to the nearest centimetre, and he didn't like what he was thinking.

Turning to Beryl, he whispered, "OK, let's be getting you back to Desmond."

"No, hang on, she's almost finished."

Zak was saying, "This is, I think, a profound statement of oh so many modern themes. Maybe it's his job, which brings him into contact with life in the raw, that gives him this profound and subtle insight Joe said, "I don't feel so good. Let's go. Please."

He didn't wait to see the result of his plea but headed out of the door. A few steps on he turned his head to see if Beryl was following. She was. The door opened to let her out just as Zak reached the climax of her address. She pulled the remaining ta.s.sel and Joe had the briefest glimpse of the curtain opening on what to his eyes was unmistakably a cat's plastic litter tray with a picture printed on its base. Then the door swung shut.

"Joe," said Beryl as she joined him. "You OK? You shouldn't drink that stuff if you can't take it."

I'm fine. Just needed the air," said Joe.

"Oh good. Funny, I was sure I heard Zak mention your name as I came out."

"Me? Shoot, you could put everything I know about art down on the bottom of Whitey's litter tray," said Joe Sixsmith.

And hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, because it's hard to move fast when you're giggling and kissing at the same time, they made their way to the Magic Mini.

REGINALD HILL was brought up in c.u.mbria where he has returned after many years in Yorkshire, the setting for his award-winning crime novels featuring Dalziel and Pascoe, whose 'double act... is one of the delights of English crime fiction1 (The Times). These novels have now been made into a successful BBC TV series.

Now Reginald Hill has created a new character, Joe Sixsmith. Born in a short story, the author found writing about him so enjoyable that he felt the redundant lathe operator turned private eye from Luton deserved his own series of novels. The first two. Blood Sympathy and Born Guilty, are also published in Collins Crime.

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

THE WOOD BEYOND.

BORN GUILTY.

ASKING FOR THE MOON.

PICTURES OF PERFECTION.

BLOOD SYMPATHY.

RECALLED TO LIFE.

BONES AND SILENCE.

UNDERWORLD.

THERE ARE NO GHOSTS IN THE SOVIET UNION.

CHILD'S PLAY.

EXIT LINES.

DEAD HEADS.

A KILLING KINDNESS.

PASCOE'S GHOST.

A PINCH OF SNUFF.

ANOTHER DEATH IN VENICE.

AN APRIL SHROUD A VERY GOOD HATER.

RULING Pa.s.sION.

A FAIRLY DANGEROUS THING.

AN ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

FELL OF DARK A CLUBBABLE WOMAN THE COLLABORATORS.

NO MAN'S LAND.

TRAITOR'S BLOOD.

WHO GUARDS A PRINCE.

THE SPY'S WIFE.

RIME.

KILLING THE LAWYERS.