The bish squeezed Vi’s bare shoulder, which, from her pissed-off expression, she found as creepy as it looked. “One should never speak ill of the dead, my dear. They may be beyond our censure, but the good Lord sees and hears all.”
Vi shook him off with a hint of a shudder. “Come on, Daddy, let’s get you home. If the police need to ask you any more questions, they can bloody well come and find us.” She put an arm around her dad and led him off without so much as a fare-thee-well to any of us, her high heels aerating the playing fields with every step.
“Oh dear,” Cherry said. “Death does have a terrible effect on people, doesn’t it?”
Me and the bish just looked at her.
Our other halves, who’d been politely told to piss off earlier by the plod, turned up then, thank God. Mine and Cherry’s, I mean, not the bishop’s. I amused myself for a mo trying to imagine what sort of person would marry (a) a bishop in general and (b) this bishop in particular, then remembered the answer to (a) would be Cherry, given half a chance, and (b) this one was single.
Then I started wondering how he’d managed that if blokes in purple were such a catch in God-bothering circles. What, to be blunt, was wrong with him? I mean, personally I could think of plenty, but the sort of stuff I objected to was probably an enticement rather than a deal breaker for a lot of the women he came in contact with.
Greg slapped me on the shoulder. “I trust you’ve been ruled out of enquiries?” he said with a chuckle.
“Er, yeah, I think so.” I’d have thought the laughter was a bit inappropriate in the circs.
Apparently I was in a minority, seeing as the bish joined in with the lols. “I do hope so, Gregory. I’m not at all sure I could in good conscience officiate at your wedding to the sister of a convicted murderer. After all, I might end up sitting near him at the wedding breakfast, and I hear there have already been some poisonings in the family.”
I could feel Sis fuming beside me. Greg just beamed.
Phil coughed. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the Lord will protect you.” It was just on the inoffensive side of sarcastic. Just. “Are we getting out of here, Tom?”
“You must be the, ah, partner,” the bish interrupted before I could say God, yes please. He thrust out a hand, which Phil inspected with narrowed eyes before giving it a short, sharp shake. “So interesting to meet you.”
“Fiancé,” Phil corrected, stony-faced. “And yeah, likewise. Come on, Tom.”
“Sis? I’ll call you, yeah?” I threw over my shoulder as we legged it.
“Jesus, I thought we’d never get away from there,” Phil muttered as he put the Golf into gear. It’d been parked in the sun and was warm enough inside that if Cherry’s stall had run out of cakes, she could have baked a few more in there no trouble. If, you know, the whole dead-body thing hadn’t put a pretty final dampener on sales. Luckily, the air-con was already kicking in. I just wished it had some kind of accessory to help me chill inside as well as out.
“Me too. Where’s Dave Southgate when you need him? At least when he’s on the case I’m not suspect number one just ’cos of tripping over the body.”
“You should give him a ring. Get him to put in a word for you.” Phil swung out onto the main road, which was a relief. There’s something about going faster that makes you feel cooler, even though in a car with air-con, it shouldn’t really make a difference.
“Way ahead of you. It’s about time I took him out for a pint, before he gets stuck in every night changing nappies.” Dave and his wife had a nipper due any day now.
“Tonight?”
“Nah. Too knackered. All I wanna do is veg out in front of the telly with a takeaway.” I paused. “You in?”
Phil sent me a look I’d class as fond but exasperated. “Course I’m bloody in. Not gonna leave you on your own tonight, am I?”
“Oi, I can cope. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve found a body. No need to pass the smelling salts, ta very much.”
Phil glanced my way again. There was more of the exasperated and possibly less of the fond this time. “Course you can cope on your own. You just don’t bloody well have to.”
“Why don’t you move in?” I blurted out.
This time, he didn’t look at me. Course, he was driving. He probably wanted to keep his eyes on the road. “You want—” He broke off and sighed. “I don’t think that’s a discussion we should be having right now.”
“No. Course not.” I looked out the window at fields starting to take on the barren look of autumn now the harvest had been gathered in, despite the bright sunshine and the heat of the day that could fool you into thinking it was still only August. But the nights were drawing in already, and it was only a month until the clocks would go back. I shivered, and Phil reached over to turn the air-con down a bit.
“What do you wanna eat tonight?” I roused myself to ask.
“Don’t mind. Indian, if you’re up for that. Nothing too adventurous.”
“Yeah, sounds good. Chicken tikka, maybe some of that naan with the meat in it?”
Phil nodded.
