Page 59 of Pressure Head
“Oh, I see—it’s all right, as long as you’re wearing a silly hat and getting paid for it. Not every single bloke likes to live on a constant diet of pub grub and takeaways, you know.” I felt a bit bad for him even as I said it—although on the other hand, maybe Mrs. S. wouldn’t have been so quick to skip out on him if he’d been a bit keener to help with the cooking. “I bet I could even teach you a few meals, you know,” I added.
Dave shuddered. “Thanks—but old dogs, new tricks. I can manage beans on toast; that’ll do me.”
He was probably right. Plus, if his mates on the force ever found out I was giving him cookery lessons, the poor sod would never live it down. “So anyway,” I said, hating to get back to the subject but knowing I had to. “Has anyone else complained?” I crossed my fingers.
Obviously Jesus was the forgiving sort, as Dave shook his head. “No, but I don’t like seeing you get mixed up in this kind of thing.”
“You’re the one who called me in to find her,” I reminded him.
“Yeah. Find her. And then leave the rest of it to the professionals.”
“Phil’s a professional,” I said slyly.
“He’s a loose bloody cannon, that’s what he is. Trampling all over my investigation.”
“Bit hard for a cannon to trample. No feet.”
Dave’s eyes swept briefly heavenwards. “Fine. He’s rolling all over my investigation, then. With his cast-iron bloody wheels. Crapping out cannonballs.”
“Sounds painful.”
“Trust me, it will be if I find out he’s bollocksed up my case.”
“So have you got a case, then?” I asked innocently. “Is it against Robin East?”
“Nice try, sunshine. You’re not getting word one out of me—not while you’re in bed with the bloody enemy. I wouldn’t even give you the time of day.”
I was a bit miffed. I’d thought we were mates. “Anyone would think we weren’t on the same side here.”
“And I wonder why that might be?”
“Hey, we all want justice for Melanie, don’t we?”
“The best way of getting that is by letting the police do their job. Not by running around putting people’s backs up.”
“The only one that’s happened to is Lionel Treadgood. And I reckon his back’s permanently up.” I hesitated, then plunged on. “Dave, why have you never got me in when you’re searching a suspect’s house? You know, looking for evidence.”
“Because there’s no point finding stuff if we can’t use it to get a conviction. There are rules about conducting searches, and they’re there for a reason.” Dave put down his fork. “Look, Tom, I’m getting enough bloody grief with this one going cold on me. Don’t make it worse, all right?”
It sounded like he wasn’t going to be arresting either Graham or Robin for it in a hurry, which was good, wasn’t it? Wasn’t Graham’s safety all I was after? It didn’t feel right, though—leaving Melanie unavenged. Maybe Phil was right, and I was getting too close to it all. I nicked one of Dave’s chips while I thought about it.
“Oi! That’s my dinner.”
“Thought you’d finished,” I said with a grin. “So how come you’re not having the roast, then? Do you know something I don’t?”
“Gravy.” Dave sighed. “No one makes gravy like my Jenny used to.”
Jenny was the ex-Mrs. S. It looked like Dave still missed her, poor sod. “Guess I’ll join you in the fish and chips, then,” I said to show solidarity. “Another pint?” He nodded, and I went off to the bar to place my order.
I half expected the pub lunch with Dave to turn into a whole afternoon, but after he’d finished his second pint, he stood up and belched. “Right, I’m off. Got better things to do than sit about drinking all afternoon like a bloody layabout.”
“Oh, yeah?” I teased. “Hot date, is it?”
To my delight, he blushed. “Maybe.”
“You can’t leave it at that!” I protested. “Who is she, then, and how long have you known her?”
“First: none of your beeswax, and second”—Dave went even redder—“I don’t know her yet. Met her on one of these online dating sites, and if you breathe a word about this to anyone, I’ll bleedin’ kill you.”
“Better watch out,” I warned. “She’ll probably turn out to be at least ten years older and three stone heavier than her profile picture.”
“Yeah, but everyone does that, don’t they?” He gave an embarrassed smile. “It’s practically compulsory. I put in my profile I was late thirties, with an athletic build.”
God help the both of them, I thought, but I just raised my glass and wished him luck.
