Page 20 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
Cherry, being my self-appointed legal representative, had insisted on sitting in, which didn’t endear either of us to the long arm of the law. I made sure I thanked her for it in appropriate terms when they finally let us go home. “Cheers, Sis. Way to make it look like I’ve got something to hide.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. They don’t seriously suspect you. They’re just following procedure.”
“If that’s the case, why’d I need you?”
“Well, excuse me for wanting to give some moral support to my baby brother. Oh, look, there’s Alex over there, poor man. We must go and offer our condolences.”
“Uh, not so sure about that . . .” I started, seeing as Alex Majors was with his daughter, who still looked ready to lay into someone given the slightest excuse. I’d already given her plenty, so I didn’t rate my chances of coming out alive.
“For heaven’s sake, Tom. He’s just lost his wife. Come on.” She slung her arm in mine and practically frog-marched me over with no consideration for my dodgy hip.
Not that it was actually hurting at the time, as it tends to do okay in warm weather, but it’s the principle of the thing.
The bishop was over with Alex and Vi, so a less charitable brother might have concluded this was more about gaining brownie points with the bish than consoling Alex for his loss. He didn’t even glance our way as we approached. The bereaved husband himself was looking greyer than ever, although fair dues, I’d probably have looked pretty grey if the bish had been getting physical with me like that. Dear old Toby was holding Alex’s hand and patting it gently, murmuring what were presumably words of spiritual comfort.
“Alexander, Violet,” Cherry began. “I can’t begin to tell you—”
Vi cut her straight off, while giving me a look like I’d just crawled out of her drains dragging half the contents with me. “The police asked me if I’d noticed any suspicious characters hanging around Amelia lately. I made sure I told them all about the creep sneaking about in my bloody bedroom.”
Great. When your name’s Tom already, the last thing you need is to get a rep for peeping into ladies’ bedrooms.
“Oi, she asked me to do that!” I glanced around nervously. The plod had already decided I was a person of interest, without her making me sound like some weirdo stalker.
“Tom!” Cherry was clearly wishing she’d offloaded me somewhere before coming over.
Alex finally looked up. “What? You were in my daughter’s bedroom?”
“Look, it was your wife, yeah? She wanted me to find, um, something she’d lost.” On the subject of diamond necklaces I decided it was probably least said, soonest mended.
Alex frowned. “But what were you doing in Vi’s bedroom?”
Cherry made a high-pitched, exasperated sound. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Violet, Tom’s as gay as a maypole. It wasn’t as if he had any nefarious intent.”
Vi gave me a considering look, and I expected her to ask what I’d been hunting for, but she didn’t. “You’re the psychic, aren’t you? So go on, who did it? Who killed her?”
“Sorry, love. Not that sort of psychic,” I said, just as Alex came out with a weak-sounding “Violet, please.”
“Well, we need to know, don’t we?” Vi said bluntly. “Or the wrong person might get blamed.” She had a fair point—my mate Dave, or DI Southgate as he is generally known, had as good as told me one time they always reckon there’s a ninety percent chance it’s the spouse/significant other what done it.
Cherry frowned. “And so that there’s justice for poor Amelia,” she said pointedly.
“Oh. Yes, that too.”
We all shuffled our feet and tried to ignore the obvious insincerity there.
The bish clearly decided it was time for him to put his ecclesiastical oar in. “Oh, I think murder will out. And rest assured, even should the guilty party escape judgement in this world, they will face it in the next.” Maybe it was just me, but there seemed to be a nasty little edge to his smile.
“Quite right, Toby,” Cherry said firmly. “Now, as I was saying, Alexander, of course I’m most dreadfully sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do—”
“What could you do?” Vi asked rudely. “And anyway, you didn’t even like her.”
“Violet!”
“Well, it’s true, Daddy. Nobody liked her except you. And Toby and Uncle Arlo, I suppose. And Lance, maybe, but that’s only because he had to.” The sulky look on Vi’s face turned stricken, probably ’cos her dad looked on the verge of collapse.
“Amelia”—Alex’s voice broke on the name—“was a dear, dear soul and had a great many friends. I realise you and she have had a difficult relationship, but I hoped—” He choked up completely and couldn’t finish.
Cherry looked like she felt she ought to give him a hug but was hoping somebody else would get in first. Luckily for me, after her maypole comment, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t welcome it if I volunteered.
