Page 91 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
It was a nice enough house, don’t get me wrong: 1930s Georgian-style, with tall chimneys and a posh front door with a polished brass knocker. But it was just a house. He even had neighbours on either side. Granted, the high hedges meant old Tobes wouldn’t have to risk actually catching sight of them, but they were there, nonetheless. Most of the front garden had been converted into a wide gravel drive, with curving flowerbeds and shrubberies to stop it all looking too bare.
We pulled up next to a stately dark-blue BMW with a fish badge on the back. I looked to see if he also had a sticker in the rear window proclaiming Bishops do it in purple, but sadly, no.
“What are we asking Toby about?” I rasped as we unbuckled. The soup was wearing off.
“That lunch, the day before the funeral. I’ve got a feeling about that lunch.”
The doorbell was one of those electronic ones that are supposed to sound like something out of Downton Abbey, and never do. A short while later, Toby opened the door to us, beatific smile firmly pasted on his mug and eyes all a-twinkle. “Welcome. Do come in.”
“Thanks,” Phil said shortly, and stepped inside. “You’ve heard the news?”
Toby tilted his head to one side. “About . . .?”
“Alex Majors. He’s confessed to killing his wife.”
The eyes lost their sparkle, and the smile turned suitably upside down. “Oh my goodness. A sad business. Very sad.”
We both nodded. I was itching to ask if he believed old Alex had done it, but I thought I’d better let Phil handle this his own way.
“Perhaps we could talk about it?” Phil suggested.
“Oh, by all means. Yes. Do come through.” He seemed genuinely flustered by the news—then again, I’m sure Greg’s told me more than once that a lot of the church is theatre. Maybe Toby was just a good actor.
As he led us through a spacious hallway and a cosy sitting room, out to a comfortably large conservatory out the back, I got a strong sense of déjà vu. Just like at Uncle Arlo’s, everything was white—but somehow, in this house, it worked. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why, but I reckoned it was something to do with how Arlo’s gaff was all straight lines and corners, whereas this place was mostly curves. Still, the similarities were too strong to ignore. Had Amelia somehow had a hand in decorating both places?
Or was I reading too much into it? Maybe the local Homebase had just had a sale on white paint.
The conservatory was set up as a dining room with a six-seater table in the middle, but with a comfy-looking bench all around the perimeter of the room—one of those ones where you can lift up the cushioned seats and there’s storage underneath. Excellent place to stash a body, I found myself thinking, and was glad when we sat down at the table.
It was bright enough out here to keep my sunglasses on. I took them off anyway.
Toby stared. “My goodness. You look positively demonic. How are you?” he added belatedly, like he’d only just remembered he was supposed to be caring.
“’M okay,” I muttered. So much for him having taken a shine to me.
All right, I’d never believed that. Interesting, though, that he didn’t look surprised. He’d clearly heard that bit of news.
“Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”
“No, thanks,” Phil said politely. “We’ve just had lunch.”
Seemed like he didn’t want to give Toby time to relax.
“As you wish. May I ask how you know about Alex’s confession?”
“We were there.”
“He confessed to you?”
Phil nodded. If you ask me, Toby looked a bit miffed at that. Maybe he’d expected Alex would’ve chosen someone more suitable to unburden himself to, like a man of the cloth.
Specifically, purple cloth.
“And I take it there is no doubt as to his veracity?” Toby added, sounding hopeful—although I wouldn’t have liked to say what exactly he was hoping for.
“That’s in the hands of the police now.”
“Dear me. I must arrange a visit to him.” Toby folded his hands as if in prayer, and even closed his eyes briefly. Wasn’t there a bit in the Bible about how you shouldn’t be really obvious about praying just so’s everyone would think you were dead holy? I couldn’t remember it exactly, probably because I hadn’t paid as much attention in Sunday school as I should have. Then again, it’d been over two decades ago.
