Page 64 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
See, that, now, that’d be a useful psychic gift to have.
Phil didn’t give any sign he didn’t believe her. “And you didn’t think that information might be relevant to the investigation?”
Vi gave him the blankest look I’d ever seen. “Why on earth should I have? What the hell has the fake got to do with anything? I want you to find the real necklace.”
I was watching Phil, not her, so I spotted it when the muscle twitched in his jaw.
There was no sign of it when he spoke, though. “Finding out the circumstances under which the replica was commissioned could give a valuable insight into what might have happened to the real necklace.”
“Oh, that’s bollocks.”
“Miss Majors, you hired me to carry out this investigation. If you’re not happy—”
“No, I’m not happy. Not in the slightest. In fact, I don’t think I want to pay you anymore. You can just leave it. Send me a bill for your time so far. Or don’t, actually, seeing as you weren’t spending it on what I’d hired you to do.” She wheeled round to give me a glare for no reason I could see. “You’re just a couple of frauds. Both of you.”
I was narked. “Oi, consultant to the coppers, here.”
I mean, maybe I don’t go around shouting about my psychic abilities, but I’m not gonna stand for people calling me a faker.
“Tom,” Phil said warningly.
I shot him a glance, meaning What?
There was a nasty suspicion of an eye roll in the look he sent back my way. I didn’t have much time to get annoyed about it, though, ’cos then Vi was stomping past me, catching me a hefty blow on the shoulder as she passed on her way out.
With her shoulder, I mean. She didn’t punch me or anything. Luckily for both of us, I imagined.
I took an involuntary step backwards, a bit on the clumsy side, and winced as my hip complained.
“You all right?” Phil asked, at my side in an instant.
I frowned. “Course I am. I just trod awkward, that’s all.”
He huffed. The front door slammed loud enough to make me worry for the glass, so I guessed we were on our own again.
“Weather’s getting colder,” I offered. My hip always gives me more gyp in winter, as he well knows. The fact it was a balmy fourteen degrees today was neither here nor there.
Phil gave me a look. “Fine. You’re fine. There’s still a sofa over there with your name on it. Come on.”
We trooped over to the sofa, Phil pointedly going first so I wouldn’t have to struggle not to limp.
Okay, so he was nearest it anyway. So what?
Phil settled into one corner of the sofa, and I settled into a corner of Phil, with his arm round my shoulders and my feet up on the coffee table. And if you think people can’t have corners, you haven’t met my beloved.
“What do you reckon all that was about?” I asked, to get the conversation off the subject of my hip soonest. “Old Arlo put the frighteners on Vi? Or do you reckon she’s covering for someone?” I thought about it. “Like, say, that secret bloke of hers?”
Phil shrugged. “Maybe. Or she just didn’t like us upsetting him when he’s already grieving.”
“Why’d she care? He’s not even her real uncle. Surprised they’re even still speaking. I mean, the way he talked about Vi didn’t sound like there was a lot of love lost between ’em.”
“Probably doesn’t say that sort of thing to her face, though.”
“True.” I thought about it. “That whole Uncle Arlo thing—think that means anything?”
He frowned, in that special way that generally means I have no idea what you’re talking about and I strongly suspect you don’t either.
“I mean, she’s nearly thirty, right? Our age. If your mum remarried, would you call the new bloke’s brother ‘Uncle’ anything?”
