Читать книгу Good Morning, Midnight - Reginald Hill - Страница 17

What’s keeping the useless bastard? Ellie Pascoe asked herself.

Anything less serious than a terrorist attack necessitating the sealing off of the city centre would be paid for with bitter rue.

She glanced surreptitiously at her watch.

It was a mistake.

The thing about Cressida’s pounce was that, though you knew it was coming, it always took you by surprise.

One moment she was sitting opposite, attempting to squeeze a final drop out of the now empty bottle, the next she was on the arm of Ellie’s chair, pinning her down with the expertise of a pro wrestler and trying to thrust her tongue down Ellie’s throat.

Unable to move and unable to speak, Ellie did the only thing left to her. She bit.

‘Christ Almighty!’ exclaimed Cress, jerking her head back. ‘So you like it rough? Suits me.’

The door bell rang.

And kept on ringing.

One thing about a cop, he might come late, but when he arrived you knew he was there.

‘Who the hell is that?’ said Cressida angrily.

Her body-lock grip relaxed sufficiently for Ellie to counterattack. She rolled Cressida off the arm of the chair and rose to her feet.

‘Don’t know,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think he’s going to go away.’

She headed for the door and opened it. Her husband stood there, framed in thick mist, like a visitor from another world.

‘Hello, darling,’ she said, her voice bright, her eyes brighter as they flashed Where the hell have you been? ‘You’re a bit early. We haven’t even eaten yet.’

‘Sorry, bit of an emergency. I rang home to check things, and the sitter’s not feeling too well. Unfortunately something’s come up at work and I’m going to be a bit tied up myself, so I thought I’d better get you there.’

He sounded like a second-rate actor in a third rate soap.

‘Oh dear. What a pity. Cress, I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. Perils of domesticity, eh?’

Cressida was standing behind her, looking like she didn’t believe a word of it. Don’t blame her, thought Ellie. If Peter had sounded stilted, she sounded like a parody of provincial rep. All she lacked was a French window and a tennis racket.

But no time to hang about for the reviews.

She grabbed her coat, gave her friend a quick hug and followed Peter down the steps of the narrow Edwardian terrace house to his car.

The police radio crackled into life as he opened the door.

Ellie, used to the background when she travelled with her husband, didn’t pay any attention till he grabbed the mike, identified himself and asked for details.

Shit, thought Ellie. How often did it happen that your lying excuses turned true? He’d said he was tied up with something and now God was making sure he was, which was a shame as, whether in reaction from or reaction to her friend’s probing tongue she didn’t care to know, she wouldn’t have minded getting home full of wine for an early night …

She felt herself pushed aside as Cressida came bounding down the steps and thrust her head into the car.

‘What was that about Moscow House?’ she demanded.

Pascoe looked at her in amazement then tried to ease her backwards.

‘Nothing to bother yourself with, just a routine call …’

‘They’re talking about ambulances, aren’t they? That’s Moscow House in the Avenue, right? Jesus! Ask them what the hell’s going on. Ellie, that’s our house. Don’t you understand – that’s our house!’

And as she looked appealingly at her friend, her name Maciver was spoken quite distinctly on the radio.

Pascoe switched it off.

‘Your house …?’ he said.

‘It’s the family house, where I grew up … It belongs to us now, the three of us, only … What’s going on there? Has this got anything to do with Pal going missing?’

Pascoe looked at Ellie, who said, ‘Pal’s Cress’s brother. He didn’t turn up for a squash match this evening and no one knows where he is …’

Pascoe said, ‘Probably some simple explanation. Ellie, I’ll have to call by there, check what’s going off. Maybe it’s best if you hang on here till I see how long I’m going to be. You can always get a taxi.’

He sounded very relaxed about things and it all came over much more convincing than before, but Ellie got the real message. He’d heard something that suggested to him it might be a good idea if she stuck with Cressida for a while longer.

But that wasn’t an option.

Cressida said, ‘I’m coming with you.’

‘I’m afraid that’s not possible,’ said Pascoe firmly. ‘Against regulations, you see …’

‘Sod regulations. OK, if you won’t take me, I’ll drive myself.’

‘Pete,’ said Ellie urgently. ‘I don’t think that would be wise … we’ve drunk quite a bit of wine, and with this mist …’

Pascoe shook his head and gave her his another-fine-mess-you’ve-got-me-into look, then said, ‘All right, Cress, get in. But when we get there, you stay inside the car till I check what’s happening, OK?’

‘Yeah yeah, anything,’ said Cressida, tumbling into the back seat.

Fat chance, thought Ellie.

She went back up the steps and closed the door, wondered too late if Cress had her keys with her, thought That’s her problem! and got into the other rear seat.

Cressida was looking at her suspiciously. She might be tipsy and she might be worried but her brain was still working.

She said, ‘So what’s happening about your baby-sitter emergency?’

Oh hell, thought Ellie. In her experience lies always got you into trouble.

She said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ said Cressida.