Page 69 of Pressure Head
Judith jerked her head. It could have been a nod, but it also said loud and clear she didn’t want to talk about it.
“Now, I shouldn’t gossip,” Edie put in, her head on one side. I felt like a bug under a microscope, the way she was watching me. “But I expect you’ll hear soon enough about our poor vicar. Suicide, they’re saying.”
“I, um, yes. I heard.” I must have sounded a bit off, because Edie patted my arm.
“Oh, dear. It is rather shocking, isn’t it? Yes, poor man. He must have been deeply troubled about something.” She pursed her lips. “One can’t help but think it must be connected to poor little Melanie’s death. Remorse can be a terrible thing.”
My chest felt tight. Was I the only one who still thought there was any doubt he’d done it? “That’s . . . that’s what the police told you, is it?”
“Oh, the police . . . They never tell you anything, do they? No, I heard it from Alison Mitchell. She goes to clean at the vicarage. She was the one who found him, poor thing. Hanging, he was. Such a terrible thing to find. Of course, we’ve had the police all over the village today.” She leaned in closer and whispered, “That’s why I’m keeping an eye on poor Judith today. I’m afraid she’s—well, obviously she knew him rather well, you see.”
I darted a glance over to Mrs. Reece, who was staring blankly out of the shop’s glass front. Like you might do if, say, you heard someone talking about you and want to pretend you hadn’t heard.
“You know what, I just remembered somewhere I need to be. Lovely meeting you, ladies.” I left the cakes on the shelf and walked out of the shop, feeling sick. There was a railing just outside, so I leant on it, breathing in fresh, cold air mingled with exhaust fumes from the cars that ambled past, slowing for the speed bumps.
Was Merry the murderer? Had I been wrong about him, and about Melanie too? God, he’d been in my house.
I vaguely registered the automatic door opening behind me, and then Edie was at my side. “Are you feeling quite all right?” she asked. “Don’t worry—I left Judith by the magazines. You can speak freely.”
I wondered what on earth she was expecting me to say. I was still wondering when she spoke again. “You know, Judith had your young man round this morning.”
“Phil?” I asked, startled. Although on second thoughts, it wasn’t that surprising he’d wanted to talk to Mrs. Reece. I wondered why she was calling him my young man after the way he’d behaved last time she’d seen us together. In the end, I put it down to some kind of old-lady intuition.
“Yes. I’m happy to say he’smuchmore polite when you get to know him. I’d gone round to break the news to her about poor Meredith. Judith doesn’t get out a lot, not with her husband the way he is—I’m sure you understand.”
I was sure I didn’t, but I nodded anyway. Why hadn’t Phil asked me to go with him?
“But he would go on asking her about Lionel, and well . . .” She shook her head. “Poor Judith isn’t the strongest personality around, and Lionel can be terribly forceful when he puts his mind to it. He does so like to be in control of everything. That’s why she had to take a little step back from it all. Just a little break, to recharge her batteries.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, I can imagine she didn’t find it easy working with old Lionel. Bit of a commanding figure, he is.”
Edie nodded happily. “Judith and I always call himthe Boss.”
A cold thrill ran through me. “Is that what Melanie used to call him too?”
“You know, now you ask, I think I did hear her call him that once. I imagine Judith must have mentioned it during the handover of responsibilities. You won’t tell on us, will you?” Edie asked, wide-eyed, like a kid caught with her hand in the pick-and-mix.
“I— No, course not,” I managed. “Look, thanks for coming out and checking up on me, but I’m fine. You go back to Judith. I’ll be fine.” I started to walk off, but then a thought struck me, and I turned. “Edie, did you tell Phil about Lionel’s nickname?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “He seemed quite excited about it.”
Phil still wasn’t answering his phone, and now it was going straight to voice mail. I didn’t like it. In the end I gritted my teeth and dialled Dave’s number.
“Southgate,” he answered curtly, putting me off a bit.
“It’s me, Dave,” I said awkwardly.
“I know it’s you, Tom. But to coin a phrase, I’m kind of in the middle of something here. Is it about the case?”
“I— Yeah. Kind of.” I abandoned all ideas of asking Dave if he’d seen my boyfriend. “Is it official, now, that Merry killed Melanie? I mean, did he leave that signed confession you were after, or was there some evidence?” If they had proof Merry had done it, then Lionel’s nickname couldn’t mean anything. Plus, I was betting no one had bothered telling Graham, if so. At least I could go round and give him a scrap of comfort. It was even possible I might find Phil there.
Dave didn’t say anything for a long time.
“Dave?”
“Look, Tom, you didnothear this from me, understand? And I’m only telling you now because you’re a mate, and you were so bloody cut up about it all.”
“Telling me what, Dave?”
