Page 67 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
He raised a lethargic eyebrow. “No messages from our dear Amelia to relay?”
His voice was a lot louder than it needed to be, in my humble opinion, and several heads turned our way. “Uh . . .”
I was saved by the sound of Alex Majors dropping his plate, cutlery clattering as vol-au-vents somersaulted neatly to land facedown on the carpet. I winced. Cherry wasn’t gonna be happy, having to clean that mess up.
Then again, she hadn’t moved in yet. Greg could clean his own carpet.
“Daddy!” Vi ran over to her father, Lance Frith following her at a slightly-less-than-seemly distance, I noted with surprise. “Come on. Don’t worry about that now. You need some peace and quiet.” She led him away from the sad splat on the floor and out of the room.
I gave Uncle Arsehole a hard stare, which he returned with disinterest.
“How much longer do you want to stay?” Phil murmured in my shell-like, making me jump a bit as I hadn’t noticed his return.
I looked at him, then at my newly laden plate. His had disappeared; presumably the vol-au-vents had all flown.
Phil rolled his eyes, grabbed two finger sandwiches off my plate, and shoved them in his gob at once.
Looked like we were on our way out, then. I grabbed the last two sandwiches and ate them, during the course of which they might have just happened to form a V sign as I held them up in his face.
One of the cathedral ladies tutted loudly.
Phil stifled a snigger.
We legged it for the door.
I wasn’t best pleased when the plod collared me just before we could make it out of there, not least because quite a few heads turned at the sight, including Toby’s and Uncle Arlo’s.
“Mr. Paretski, might I have a word?” Sharp’s tone was polite but steely.
“Dunno,” I said with a laugh that might have come off just a tiny bit nervous. “Should I bring my lawyer?”
“No need for that.” He smiled. It looked like something he’d practiced in front of a mirror. “You’re not under suspicion. I just had a couple more questions I’d like to ask you.”
I glanced at Phil. He didn’t say anything. “Fine. Fire away.”
“Actually, would you mind coming to the police station tomorrow? At three o’clock?”
Well, yeah, I would mind, as it happens, but there was definitely an undercurrent of sending the boys round if I didn’t cooperate. Phil’s hand on my arm tightened, so I guessed he’d noticed that too.
“I’ll be there,” I said, resigned. I’d have to see if I could do Mr. K.’s quote tonight instead, and fit Mrs. S.’s loo in during my now-to-be-nonexistent lunch hour.
“Think I should take Cherry along anyhow?” I muttered to Phil as we scarpered.
“What do you think?” If the look he gave me hadn’t clued me in to what a bloody daft question he reckoned that was, his tone certainly would have.
So the following day, I had to drive up to St. Leonards—again—and make my way to the local nick, where I was shown into a boxy room with a window that looked out on a brick wall.
Some attempt had been made to make it look a bit less cell-like. Nothing was bolted to the floor, and there was even a plastic jug of water on the table and a stack of disposable cups. Just like this was an ordinary business meeting, rather than the sort of discussion where, say, people might expect things to get thrown at them. Cherry had bottled water in her office, which she presumably served to clients, although in her case it was in your actual glasses. I’d seen ’em.
Then again, some of her clients ended up in the nick, didn’t they? Not a totally reassuring parallel, there.
Sis, by the way, wasn’t with me. She had a paying client meeting already booked, and while she’d offered to try to rearrange it, she’d looked a bit doubtful and I hadn’t liked to insist. After all, it wasn’t like I was a suspect or anything.
I hoped.
DI Sharp shook my hand, thanked me for coming, waved me to a seat, and poured us each a plastic cup of water. He was a bloke a bit older than me, I reckoned, dressed in a grey suit that was just on the comfortable side of smart. His light-brown hair made him look a bit forgettable, but his eyes were, well, sharp.
A uniformed PC hovered on the periphery, in case I might be tempted to forget where I was.
