Page 48 of Pressure Head
“Don’t like . . . It’s what youdo, for fuck’s sake!”
“No, it’s whatyoudo. I’ve got a so-called gift I never asked for. I didn’t choose this—not like you did. You’re the one who decided to make a business out of poking your nose into other people’s lives.”
“So basically,” Phil said, a frown creasing his forehead and an edge to his tone I didn’t much like, “what you’re saying is, my job disgusts you.”
“That’s not what I . . .” I trailed off. Maybe it was what I’d meant. “I don’t know, all right? All I know is, I don’t feel comfortable doing it.”
“Feel morecomfortablewatching Graham go down for his girlfriend’s murder, would you? While the bastard who did it looks on and laughs? Would that be all right with your holier-than-fucking-thou conscience?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! That’s not what I’m bloody saying, and you know it.” We’d turned onto Brock’s Hollow road, and I’d had enough. “You can let me out here. I’ll get a bus back or something.”
“Don’t be so bloody stupid. I’m not leaving you stranded here on your own,” Phil snapped, as if I were a none-too-bright ten-year-old who’d never quite got the message about stranger danger.
“Worried the Rev’s going to pop up to have his way with me and bury me in the churchyard? Actually, hang on a minute,” I said, my anger draining away as I thought about it. “If the Rev killed Melanie, why wouldn’t he do just that? Why not hide a body with a whole lot of other bodies? Wouldn’t it be way riskier taking the body somewhere else? I mean, he’d have to get it there, and it was always going to get found eventually, up on Nomansland Common. The whole bloody village walks their dogs up there. Even the Girl Guides go up and build dens there.”
Phil’s knuckles were still white on the steering wheel, and he took a couple of deep breaths before he answered. “You might have a point,” he said, like it was being dragged out of him along with his fingernails. “But you’ve got to remember, people don’t always do the logical thing when they’ve got a body on their hands. Most murderers don’t plan to kill.”
“Yeah, but you said this one did, didn’t you? The phone call, I mean. That had to be planned in advance.”
“Ifit was the murderer who made the call.”
“Oh, come on—it’d have to be a bit of a coincidence, otherwise.”
“Coincidences happen. That’s why there’s a word for them.”
“There’s a word for unicorns too, but I haven’t seen a right lot of them prancing down the high street lately.”
“There’s a word for smart-arses, come to that.” Phil’s tone was still grim, but he’d eased up on the death glares, and he was keeping to the speed limit as we drove into the village.
I relaxed a bit. “Only one? I thought you had a better vocabulary than that. You need to stop reading theSunand start buying yourself a proper paper. You know, one where you don’t just look at the pictures.”
“I can find all the words I need to describe you in theSun, thanks.”
“What, likecor, what a stunna? I’m flattered—I never knew you saw me that way.”
Phil just shook his head, but he was smiling.
“Hey, are you doubting my abilities as a glamour model?”
“You do seem to be lacking a couple of essential qualifications,” he said, glancing at my chest.
“You haven’t seen me with my kit off. At least, not since school. I like to think I’ve filled out a bit since then.”
Now he was laughing. “To page three model standards? I bloody well hope not.”
“If you hate tits that much, how come you spent so much time at school hanging around with Wayne Hills and that crowd?”
“God knows.” There was a beat. “You know I—”
“Don’t,” I said. It was all water under the bridge, now. “That was a long time ago, all right? You’re not the same bloke you were then, and neither am I.”
He glanced at me as we turned into Four Candles Lane. “You reckon? Because I don’t think you’ve changed all that much.”
“Great, so now you think I never grew up.” And presumably, never got over that stupid crush I’d had on him.
“No, that’s not what I mean. You just . . . Forget it.” I opened my mouth, about to push him on it, when he beat me to it. “Do you— Fuck.” He shook his head again. “Sod it . . . I know this is a daft idea, but do you want to get dinner some time?”
I stared at him. After about a minute, I realised I still had my mouth open, so I shut it, quick. Then I opened it again. “You what? Are you asking me out?”
