Page 31 of Pressure Head
“How’d you find out about it?”
“The old-fashioned way. Followed him, then checked through his bins.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Nice.”
“Says the man who unblocks other people’s bogs for a living.”
“Like I told Mrs. E., I always wash my hands after.” I paused. “Do you think she was right, about him and Melanie having it off?”
Phil shrugged. We were just coming through Sandridge, a pretty little village carved in two by the main road. Not that it’s all that main, as roads go, but the place wasn’t half as villagey as it must have been in the days of real horse power. Course, it probably wasn’t half as whiffy, either. “I haven’t seen any other women turn up there, but it’s early days yet. But I want to get back there before he shuts up shop tonight. See if he makes a stop there on the way home—and if he’s alone.”
“Why don’t you go over there when he’s at work and search the place?” I wondered. “I’d help.”
“I’d rather not get done for breaking and entering, thanks. Anyway, I’m not sure I buy Robin East as the murderer. The wife, now, I’d believe it of her.”
“No,” I said, thinking about it. “I don’t think she cares enough about Robin, or the marriage, to take a risk like that. She might killhim, if she was sure she wouldn’t get caught, but I can’t see her bothering to kill the other woman.”
“No? Sometimes it’s easier to blame the third party when a marriage goes wrong.”
“Haven’t you been listening? I told you, she doesn’tcare.”
“Oh, sorry—forgot I was dealing with the Great Paretski, who knows everything about everybody and solves crimes with the awesome power of his mind.”
We’d made it into Fleetville. Stung by his sarcasm, I jerked my head towards the halal food shop just down the road. “You can let me out here. I need to get some veg.”
“Fine.” Phil yanked the wheel round and braked sharply to pull in at the side of the road. “See you, then.”
“Right. Bye.” I got out of the car, and he pulled away again almost before I’d shut—not slammed—the door.
Why did it always go tits-up between me and Phil?
