Page 89 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
“Here. I was working on new material for the website.” Lance drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I wanted to put a tribute to Amelia on there, and of course all other references to her will have to be changed.”
“You were doing that all evening?”
“A great devourer of time, websites, I’m afraid. I’m sure you both find the same.”
Phil nodded. I kept quiet. Gary did my website, which is your basic shopfront one, no bells and whistles whatsoever despite all his pleading to give me the latest widgets and whatnots. Customers don’t seem to trust a tradesman if the website’s too slick. He’d agreed in the end, and even offered to put in the odd greengrocer’s apostrophe and a few spelling mistakes, but I was fairly sure he was taking the piss by then.
“And you were on your own all the time?” Phil went on.
Lance stared at him coolly. “I’m afraid so.”
“Do you often work such a long day?”
A faint frown appeared behind the sunglasses. “My plans for the evening were unexpectedly cancelled.”
“Oh? What were they?”
“Private,” Lance said snippily. “Really, I can’t imagine you seriously suspect me of being the strangler. I know full well you’ve verified my whereabouts on the day of the fayre.”
This was news to me, but then I s’pose it must be one of the hazards of the job—witnesses blabbing after you’ve grilled ’em.
Phil shrugged. “The police will have done exactly the same. Have you heard the latest development in the case?”
“Alexander’s confession?” Lance hesitated, as if he wanted to make absolutely sure he chose the right words. “I find it very hard to believe that he would do such a thing.”
Not, I noticed, complete denial of the possibility, like Vi. And hey, that news had travelled fast.
“Of course, his daughter’s devastated,” Phil went on, shrugging as if he didn’t give a toss one way or another.
Lance looked away. “Yes. A terrible thing.”
“Still, maybe it’ll make her grow up a bit,” Phil added. “God knows she needs it.”
I gave him a sharp look. Callous, much?
Lance stood up so fast, his chair tottered and almost fell, only the counter behind it saving it. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I have a client to deal with. But it was kind of you to come.” His smile was so fake he ought to have had Made in China stamped on his lips.
“Not at all,” Phil said politely as we both stood. “We can see ourselves out.”
Lance watched us anyway, right up until he could close the door behind us, which was annoying as I’d planned to have another go at the vibes on the way out. I was pretty sure that had been Phil’s plan too. I mean, he presumably hadn’t brought me along just for my stunning good looks.
“That was weird,” I muttered as we walked back down the garden path. “Him getting the hump over Vi.”
“Not really.” Phil smirked. “Getting any vibes off what’s under that tarpaulin?”
I’d assumed it was just Lance being precious about whatever eco-friendly car he drove. I paused and listened—and found myself stumbling backwards.
Phil caught me with a steadying arm. “Whoa,” I gasped.
That thing wasn’t so much sending out vibes as it was setting up its own local fracking operation.
Someone ought to tell it that really wasn’t a great idea in Hertfordshire, given all the recently discovered vast underground reserves of bugger all waiting to swallow up the unwary.
“Thought so,” Phil said smugly, and lifted one end of the tarpaulin. Underneath was the unmistakeable bright purple of Vi’s Lexus. To avoid all possible doubt, the number plate was clearly visible: V10 LTM.
Bloody hell. I was half-surprised I’d been able to walk past it earlier without getting a whiff of it—but then again, although the vibes had been strong, they hadn’t felt bad, if you know what I mean. Not like someone’s dirty little secret. And they’d gone completely now it was uncovered, so at least we could be sure there were no dead bodies hidden in the car, for example.
Or live ones, for that matter. I mean, you’ve got to think of every eventuality.
