Page 36 of Pressure Head
I didn’t think twice—just turned the van into Four Candles Lane and left it in the car park behind the pub. The kitchen sink could wait. They could always bung a bucket under it. By the time I got to Village Properties, the lynch mob had taken their disapproval elsewhere, and Pip had disappeared inside. The sign on the door had been turned round toClosed, but I went in anyway.
Red-eyed, Pip looked up from her desk. The pale-green cardie she was wearing cruelly highlighted how blotchy her face was. “W-we’re closed,” she stammered, sounding an inch away from tears.
“I know, love. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw what happened.” I leaned against the doorframe, my hands in my pockets, so she wouldn’t feel I was barging in on her. Looking round the office, I saw a kettle in the corner. “Want me to make you a cup of tea?”
She stared at me silently for a moment, then bit her lip and nodded.
I smiled encouragingly and closed the door. “Bit of a shock, I expect, having your boss carted off by the police. Have they arrested him, or is he just helping with enquiries?” I checked the kettle, decided the water in there would just about do, and switched it on.
“They didn’t—they didn’t say he was under arrest. Just that they wanted him to come down to the st-station.” Pip swallowed.
“Might just be a routine thing, then,” I suggested, trying to cheer her up.
“They said—” She broke off for a minute, then rallied. “He told them he was working late, the night Melanie . . . But they said someone had told them it wasn’t true.”
“Oh?” I turned round, mugs in hand. “Milk and sugar?”
She shook her head, so I carried her black tea and my white one over to her desk. “Wouldn’t have been the missus, by any chance, would it? Because I’ve met her, and she’s a right— Sorry.” I made a zipping motion by my lips. “Forgot she might be a friend of yours.”
Pip’s mouth twitched into what was trying to be a smile. “No. We’re not friends. But I don’t think . . . They said they’d been told there were no lights on. The inspector—”
“Dave Southgate. Yeah, I know him.”
“He asked Robin if he’d been working in the dark. I know who told them about it,” she surged on, suddenly fierce.
“Yeah?” I parked my bum on the corner of her desk, and tried to look casual as I took a sip of my tea. Hmm. Maybe I could have done with using fresh water, after all.
“It was thathatefulold woman next door,” Pip said, looking surprised at her own venom.
“What, the Women’s Institute lady? Her with the homemade chutney and the crocheted dollies?”
She nodded. “But it’s not true. I know he didn’t kill Melanie. Iknowit.”
I sighed. “I know you don’t want to believe it, love.Idon’t want to believe it. But if he’s innocent, why would he lie to the police in the first place?”
Pip burst into tears. She put down her tea with wobbly hands and sobbed like her world had just ended.
There was nothing else for it. I shuffled round to her side of the desk and put my arms around her, patting her back, stroking her hair, and muttering soothing phrases. To tell the truth, I felt a bit of a bastard for what I’d just said. If being willing to lie to the police was a sign of guilt, we all ought to be banged up. Everyone makes bad decisions when they’re scared.
I held her for a long time, until the sobs died down into sniffles and my shirt front was unpleasantly soggy. “Hey,” I said, once I reckoned she’d hear me. “Why don’t you go on home? No point you trying to hold the fort here. All you’re going to get is nosy bloody parkers.”
Pip lifted her head. Her face was blotchier than ever, but she seemed a bit calmer. Not as much as I’d have liked, mind. “I can’t go home.”
“If you need a lift, I’ve got the van round the back of the Four Candles.”
“No—I mean, thanks. It’s not that.”
A nasty little suspicion clouded my mind. “Him indoors, is it?”
She didn’t answer, just stared at her desk.
“How come he’s not at work?”
“He— Well, it’s been hard for him. Finding work. Since he got laid off, he’s . . . It’s been hard.”
I nodded sympathetically. “And now you’ve got him moping round the house all day, making the place look untidy. Tell you what—why don’t I take you out for a proper cuppa? Something stronger if you like—they serve all sorts down the Four Candles.”
Pip gave a couple of rogue paperclips a thorough once-over while she mumbled something embarrassed and incomprehensible. I reckoned I had a fair idea what she was worried about.
