Page 53 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
He barked out a laugh when I told him that, as we propped up the bar at the White Hart. “Short leash? I should be so bloody lucky. She wants it long enough to strangle me with.”
I winced. “Cheers, mate. Really wanted to be reminded of that sort of thing.”
“What? Oh, yeah, that.”
“Yeah, that. Heard any more about the case?”
“Not a lot, no. Forensics have come up a blank—or, to be more bleedin’ accurate, they found DNA from half of St. Leonards in that bloody tent. Lovely bit of blood under the fingernails—turned out to be all hers. Scratched her throat up, trying to get loose. That’s the trouble with strangling. See, the instinct is to go for the thing round your neck, not the bastard what put it there.” He took a deep swallow of beer. “Ah. Christ, that hits the spot. And the victim had shaken hands with just about everyone on that bloody field that day.”
“She never shook my hand.”
He grinned. “Maybe she was worried you hadn’t washed it after the last bog you fixed.”
“Oi, no dissing my personal hygiene. Nah, already had me right where she wanted me, didn’t she? No need to waste manners on me.”
Dave nodded slowly. “Makes you wonder, though. Who else did she have right where she wanted them—and how desperate were they to get out from under her thumb? Even in this day and age, there’s a fair few men who don’t take kindly to a woman having ’em by the balls.”
I grinned. “Well, you’ve got me there. My balls are strictly off-limits to women. Although fair enough, there’s only one man allowed to get his hands on ’em these days and all.”
“Bloody hell, Paretski, you had to go there, didn’t you?” Dave took a massive gulp of his pint. “Christ. Not enough beer in the world.” He went to put his glass down, obviously thought better of it, and took another gulp.
“How’s Jen doing?” I asked, taking pity on him.
“Pissed off. Past her due date. She’s got another week and then they’ll induce, and Christ, it can’t come soon enough for either of us. She gave me my marching orders tonight—said if I ask her one more time if she can feel anything happening, she’ll connect my dick up to the bloody TENS machine and turn it on full whack.”
I grimaced. Electrodes and delicate areas: definitely not relevant to my interests. And one of my customers told me once about having a faulty TENS machine for her second kid’s birth—Mrs. P. had switched the thing on and then turned round and accused Mr. P. of walloping her on the back. “Kick like a mule, it was,” she’d said. “But they gave me a full refund and a £25 voucher when I took it back to the shop and complained.”
She’d smiled, like she’d found it a fair exchange.
Dave belched. “Your family all right?” he asked.
“Yeah, they’re good. We’re seeing Greg and Cherry for lunch tomorrow, over in St. Leonards.”
“S’pose she’ll be moving there after the wedding.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Dunno what she’s doing with her house.”
Dave scratched his armpit thoughtfully. “Maybe she’ll keep it. Don’t they get kicked out of the tied accommodation when they retire?”
I frowned. “Never really thought about it, but yeah, I s’pose they’d have to be. Make room for the new bloke. Or lady, obviously. Huh. Maybe they have retirement homes for old priests?”
“Christ, they must be a laugh a bloody minute. Put me somewhere like that, I’d be queuing up for the one-way trip to Switzerland.”
“I dunno.” Despite never having been much of a God-botherer myself, I felt weirdly unable to leave the clergy undefended. “Greg’s all right. And that new vicar in Brock’s Hollow, you know, the one who’s going out with Harry from the Dyke.”
“And what the bleedin’ hell’s that all about? All the pretty girls that woman’s had working for her over the years, and she ends up with a—” I never got to hear the rest of that sentence, as Dave’s mobile rang, and he frowned. “Shit. That’s the wife.” He answered it and went pale. “You’ve gotta get me home. She’s in labour.”
Uh-oh. “Didn’t you drive?”
“Yeah, but I can’t now, can I? I’ve had four pints.” That meant he’d had two before I got here. Unless he wasn’t counting the round we’d just started, in which case he’d had three. “Be bloody marvellous, that, wouldn’t it, if I get had up for drunk driving and lose my job the night my kid’s born.”
I looked regretfully at my almost full glass. “Come on, then. I’ve got the Fiesta out the back.”
Dave wasn’t happy about squeezing his bulk into my passenger seat. “Jesus, when are you gonna get a proper car?”
“Oi, it’ll get you there.” I pulled out of the pub car park through the narrow archway, taking it easy because it’s blind both sides onto the main road. They’d built this place as a coaching inn, and I s’pose there wasn’t as much traffic about those days. Also, it probably moved a lot slower.
“Yeah, but how soon? They come quicker the more you’ve had, and it’s her third. Come on, get a shift on.”
