A Pleasant Death by Jayne Bailey

Author:Jayne Bailey [Bailey, Jayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Three Bees Publishing
Published: 2024-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

They drove straight to Winston Mayhew's house, and throughout the whole journey, Emma had been lecturing Simon on the perils of fatty foods, even referring to the full English breakfasts on several occasions. Simon had causally inspected his mouth in the rear-view mirror to check that he hadn't got half a mushroom wedged in between his teeth somewhere. In the end, after the third specific comment about healthy breakfasts, he looked over at her and asked her outright.

'How did you know?'

Emma popped the lid back onto her lipstick and dropped it back into her bag. 'I saw your car parked outside the Silly Sausage on my way to work. It didn't need a genius to put two and two together.'

'It's like having my own personal bodyguard working with you,' he said drily, annoyed that Emma had somehow, yet again, caught him out.

'Not at all,' she replied. 'A bodyguard's job is to protect. You're past help, I'm afraid.'

'Oh, cheers,' he shot back.

That was the problem with Emma; she was unintentionally honest but in the most brutal way. She never intended to say things which caused offence, but somewhere between thinking something and the words spilling off her tongue, her remarks always seemed to land like a punch to the guts. That was the reason she was single, in Simon's opinion; she was far too harsh with her boyfriends. She'd once told one that the reason she refused to kiss him was because his breath smelled permanently of onions, even though he never ate the damn things. He'd ghosted her phone calls and messages soon after that. And there was another time when after just two dates, she told him that his job in a call centre was just a cover for laziness and lack of ambition as casually as if she'd been asking what he wanted for dinner that evening.

Simon had tried and failed on several occasions to get her to soften up. Maybe there was some deep-rooted childhood trauma somewhere in her history that could explain her behaviour. But Emma, ever the professional, had poo-poohed his idea as sentimental hogwash and told him in no uncertain terms that she was the way she was and there was nothing she wanted to change. Oh well, each to their own.

They parked the car outside Winston's house, got out and headed up the little path to the front door. Seasonal bulbs neatly lined the slabs, displaying bursts of rainbow colours like a cheery welcome.

'Sir,' said Emma quietly as she pointed to the front door.

Simon looked up and noted the open door. It didn't appear to have been forced, but even so, not many people left the doors wide open these days, even in a picturesque village such as this. He crept in front of Emma, pushing her protectively behind him, and stepped inside.

'Mr Mayhew,' he called out. 'It's the police.'

Simon strained his ears, but all that greeted them was the unmistakable whine of Dickens coming from behind the kitchen door. He opened the door to the kitchen, and the dog bounded into the hallway, wagging his tail gratefully.

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