Page 21 of Pressure Head
“Well, of course,” Robin butted in. “We’ve been extremely busy. There’s a mini-boom going on at the moment, and with the new school being built—well, it’s a sellers’ market.” Not to mention, an estate agent’s one, I thought. He must have been doing very nicely indeed on the commission.
Phil glared at him briefly. When he turned back to Pip, he softened his expression with what looked like a painful effort. “Have you had to work late as well, then?”
She seemed a bit flustered by his sympathetic tone. “I— Well, no, not really—I mean, I don’t— My husband doesn’t like it if I—” She was married? I glanced at her hands, and sure enough, there was a ring. I couldn’t believe I’d missed it. I imagined some IT nerd with a beard and glasses, and wondered if they ever had sex or if they just playedMinecraftandSkyrimtogether.
“Pip doesn’t show properties,” Robin interrupted. “So she works mainly nine to five.”
She sent him a grateful smile, and just for a second, her face was transformed. She looked almost pretty, and suddenly it wasn’t such a stretch to imagine her married.
“It must have been pretty rough on you,” I said. “Losing a friend like that. Was Melanie the only other girl in the office?”
Pip darted a glance my way and nodded.
“Did you see a lot of her outside work?” I continued, seeing as Phil seemed content to let me do the talking for a bit.
This time she shook her head. “Not really. She was always busy.”
“With Graham?”
“And the church stuff, of course.”
“Oh, yeah? Didn’t know Graham and Melanie were religious. He’s changed a bit since we were at school, then.”
She gave a wary smile. “I don’t think— I mean, I don’t know . . . I think it was just Mel. She felt sorry for Mrs. Reece.”
I frowned. “Mrs. Reece . . .?”
“The parish administrator. Except she’s been ill lately, and her husband, of course . . . That’s why Mel was filling in for her.”
I nodded. It must be catching. “Must have made it hard for the poor girl to fit in a social life. Did she ever talk about going out? With or without Graham?”
Pip bit her lip. “Sometimes. Well, she had her regular things—prayer group on Wednesdays, Salsacise on Thursdays, and French class on . . . Mondays, I think. Yes, Mondays. When she wasn’t working, that is. And she and Graham always went to her mum’s for Sunday lunch.”
Bloody hell, no wonder Graham had been pissed off about her going out the night she died. From the sound of it, it must have been their first night in together in a month of Sundays. Of course, if shehadbeen seeing someone else, any or all of these hobbies would have made an excellent cover.
“Did you go to any of these activities with her?” Phil asked. Maybe he’d had the same thought as me.
Pip jumped. Maybe she’d forgotten he was there—although how anyone could overlook his brooding, monolithic presence was beyond me. “I— Oh, no. I mean . . . Well, I did go to Salsacise once, but . . . my husband . . .” She stared down at her feet.
Okay, this was the second time she’d mentioned the husband not liking her going out at night. My mental image of the nerd was replaced by a beer-swilling, unshaven Neanderthal who thought a woman’s place was in the home and wasn’t afraid to say so. “You should tell him to make his own tea for once, love,” I said. She flicked me a shy smile but didn’t reply. When Phil didn’t jump in, I carried on. “I think poor old Graham had to fend for himself a fair bit. Did Melanie ever give you the impression things weren’t going too well between them?”
“No—well, she talked sometimes about how frustrated he was getting, looking for work. But I always thought . . .” She broke off and looked up at me. “You just don’t know, though. You might think you do, but you never really know what it’s like. A relationship, I mean. Only the people in it know. People are different when it’s just the two of them.”
Phil stirred. “Pip, do you think Graham killed Melanie?”
“I don’t want to think so,” she whispered.
It wasn’t exactly the resounding denial we’d been hoping for.
“I knew you’d be a natural at this,” Phil said as the door closed behind us.
“What? I didn’t find anything in there.” Actually, I hadn’t even looked. I’d got a bit distracted, first by Cloney Clooney, and then—in a totally different way, I hasten to add—by Pip.
“That’s not what I mean. You really got that girl to open up to you.”
I shrugged. “All I did was have a chat with her.”
“Exactly,” Phil said. We crossed the road to head up past the church. “You know how to talk to women.” Then he frowned. “I’d have been wondering if you’d suddenly come over all straight, if you hadn’t stood there for the first ten minutes with your mouth hanging open, begging Robin East to fill it with his dick.” His voice was a low growl as we walked around the Duck and Grouse to the car park.
