Snuff

can tell you a few stories—” He stopped talking abruptly, and Vimes’s experience of husbandry told him that the man had just been kicked under the table by his wife, who did not look happy and, to judge by the lines on her face, probably never had. She leaned past her husband, who was now accepting another brandy from the waiter, and said, icily, “As a policeman, your grace, does your jurisdiction extend to the Shires?”
    Another ring in the water, thought the angler inside Vimes’s head. He said, “No, madam, my beat is Ankh-Morpork and some of the surrounding area. Traditionally, however, the policeman drags his jurisdiction with him if he is in hot pursuit in connection with crime committed within his domain. But, of course, Ankh-Morpork is a long way from here, and I doubt if I’d be able to run that far.” This got a laugh from the table in general and a thin-lipped smile from Mrs. Colonel.
    Play the fish, play the fish…“Nevertheless,” Vimes continued, “if I was to witness an arrestable offense here and now, I’d have the authority to make an arrest. Like a citizen’s arrest, but somewhat more professional, and after that I’d be required to turn the suspect over to the local force or other suitable authority, as I deemed fit.”
    The clergyman, whom Vimes had noticed out of the corner of his eye, was taking an interest in this conversation and leaned forward to say, “As you deem fit, your grace?”
    â€œMy grace would not come into it, sir. As a sworn member of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch it would be my bounden duty to ensure the safety of my suspect. Ideally I’d look for a lockup. We don’t have them in the city anymore, but I understand most rural areas still do, even if they only hold drunks and escaped pigs.”
    There was laughter, and Miss Beedle said, “We do have a village constable, your grace, and he keeps pigs in the lockup down by the old bridge!”
    She looked brightly at Vimes, whose expression was stony. He said, “Does he ever put people in there? Does he have a warrant card? Does he have a badge?”
    â€œWell, he puts the occasional drunk in there to sober up, and he says the pigs don’t seem to mind, but I have no idea what a warrant card is.”
    There was more laughter at this but it faded quickly, sucked into nowhere by Vimes’s implacable silence.
    Then he said, “I would not consider him to be a policeman, and until I found that he was working within a framework of proper law enforcement I would regard him not as a policeman by my standards but as a slightly bossy street cleaner. Of some use, but not a policeman.”
    â€œBy your standards, your grace?” said the clergyman.
    â€œYes, sir, by my standards. My decision. My responsibility. My experience. My arse if things go wrong.”
    â€œBut, your grace, as you say, you are outside your jurisdiction here,” said Mrs. Colonel gently.
    Vimes could sense her husband’s nervousness, and it was certainly not to do with the food. The man was wishing heartily that he wasn’t there. It was funny how people always wanted to talk to policemen about crime, and never realize what strange little signals their anxieties betrayed.
    He turned to the man’s wife, smiled and said, “But as I’ve said, madam, if a copper comes across a flagrant crime his jurisdiction reaches out to him like an old friend. And do you mind if we change the subject? No offense meant to any of you ladies and gentlemen, but over the years I’ve noticed that bankers and military men and merchants all get a chance to eat their dinners at their leisure at affairs like this, while the poor old copper has to talk about police work, which is most of the time rather dull.” He smiled again to keep everything friendly, and went on, “Exceedingly dull around here, I would imagine. From my point of view, this place is as quiet as the…grave.” Score: one wince from the dear old colonel, and the priest looking down at his plate, although the latter shouldn’t be taken too seriously, he thought, because you seldom saw a clergyman who couldn’t strike sparks with his knife and fork.
    Sybil, using her hostess voice, shattered the silence like an icebreaker. “I think it’s time for the main course,” she said, “which will be superb mutton avec no talking about police work at all.