Page 40 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
Again, there was that rueful smile. “I’m sorry. You must have been asked that question so many times before.”
“Uh . . .” Okay, yeah, it was sort of what I’d been thinking—but seriously, how many bodies did he reckon I’d found? “More times than I’d like, yeah.”
“And of course it was terrible. Death is terrible.” He took a deep breath, while I was still reeling from somebody actually getting it. Someone who wasn’t Phil, at any rate. “And you must feel responsible, of course, because without you, she would never have been in that tent.”
That . . . that hurt. Like a steak knife to the stomach. All the more so because I’d thought he was on my side. Which was stupid, and selfish, because at the end of the day, it had sod all to do with me, but . . . I’d been trying to ignore that queasy little feeling in my gut, all the worse because, frankly, I hadn’t been able to stand the woman. “I . . . Yeah, I . . .” Shit. What the hell was I supposed to say? “Sorry.”
Phil shoved his plate away, steak only two-thirds chomped. “If you’ve heard that much, then you know Tom had no idea where she was going. That was the whole bloody point.”
Lance ignored him. He leaned in again with a look of concern on his face, so either my apology had been accepted or he hadn’t actually blamed me in the first place.
Or he was just messing with my head, which I guessed was equally likely.
“I hope you haven’t had trouble convincing the police? There can be a regrettable level of scepticism from officialdom, I’ve found, when it comes to dealing with anything out of the ordinary.”
“No.” I cleared my throat. “No, they, um, know about me and, you know, finding things.”
“Really? And have you worked with them before?”
“Uh . . .” I glanced over at Phil, but he was no help whatever, the git. “Yeah, but I don’t think I’m s’posed to talk about it.”
“And if you did, you’d have to kill me?” Lance actually smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m used to having to keep secrets. And not just what you’d think—surprise parties and the like. You’d be amazed how many people feel their events should be treated as if they’re a matter of national security. But tell me, do they really believe?”
“Uh . . . Most of ’em, no. But I’ve got a mate on the force, and he knows I’m not faking it.”
“That’s marvellous. We need more people who are ready to be open-minded about these things.” Lance nodded to himself. “And have you experimented with crystals?”
“You mean like that thing you’ve got round your neck?” I gestured at his pendulum-slash-pendant thing. It was a simple conical design in some dark stone, almost lost against his black shirt. Cherry had got me one for my last birthday, which was how I knew what it was, but the one she’d got me had been rainbow-coloured. According to the leaflet that came with it, each coloured stone represented one of the chakras. Seeing as it hadn’t bothered to explain what the chakras actually were or why you’d give a toss about them being represented, I hadn’t been all that impressed. “You had any luck with that?”
“I’ve had some success, yes. But—”
“Wanna show us how it’s done?” I said quickly. I wanted to keep the conversation focussed on him, not me.
He gave a weird little smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t presume.”
The waitress came back at that point, which I was glad of because I was well confused by this conversation. “You have finished? You would like to see the dessert menu?”
That risotto had been pretty filling, actually. Either that, or I wasn’t that hungry today. I snuck a glance at my watch to see how much time I had to play with, and realised it’d run out a while back. “Shit. Sorry. No, not for me, ta.”
I looked at the other two. Nope, no takers there either. “Just a coffee,” Phil said, and Lance asked for a herbal tea. “Tom?”
“No, actually I’m gonna have to go. Customer over in Harpenden—she gets a bit snippy if I’m late. Sorry,” I lied through my teeth. Well, about being sorry. Not about the customer. You’d think she was the bloody Queen Mother, the way she treats tradesmen and other oiks, but at least she always paid prompt and was good for putting in a word for me with the neighbours. I’d got next door’s bathroom refit and a couple of other jobs as well on her say-so, so keeping her sweet was definitely on my to-do list.
Lance stood up when I did. “Such a shame you have to rush off. It’s been enlightening, meeting you.” He held out his hand. I took it, expecting another limp grip, but he surprised me with a firm squeeze. Then he didn’t let go. “Before you go, let me give you my card. Perhaps we could speak again sometime about our common interest.”
I hoped to God he meant divination, not Amelia Fenchurch-Majors.
Actually that was a lie. I didn’t want to talk dowsing with him either. Mostly because I reckoned he knew far more about it than I did.
Still holding my hand, he reached into a pocket and pulled out an expensive-looking card case. The card he handed me looked pricey too, with his name embossed on the front.
“Cheers, mate,” I said, just grateful he’d finally let go of me. I had a couple of my own cards in my back pocket, so I handed him one of those to be polite. It was slightly curved from where I’d been sitting on it and a bit dog-eared around the corners. It was probably time I ordered a new batch, to be honest, but I’d been waiting for the printers to have a sale.
Lance took it and placed it carefully in his wallet.
“See you later, Phil,” I said with a nod, and legged it.
Mrs. T. in Harpenden was in a good mood that afternoon. I got two cups of tea and a slice of homemade fruitcake. It was pretty good, and I ended up asking for the recipe from her. She went pink and handwrote it for me, then wrapped up the rest of the cake for me to take home. Mr. T. doddered in from the garden, looking hopeful, to be told sharply there were Rich Tea biscuits in the tin if he had to spoil his dinner.
