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VAL McDERMID
Crack Down
For my mother, with love and thanks
CONTENTS
If slugs could smile, they’d have no trouble finding jobs as car salesmen. Darryl Day proved that. Oozing false sincerity as shiny as a slime trail, he’d followed us round the showroom. From the start, he’d made it clear that in his book, Richard was the one who counted. I was just the bimbo wife. Now Darryl sat, separated from the pair of us by a plastic desk, grinning maniacally with that instant, superficial matiness that separates sales people from the human race. He winked at me. ‘And Mrs Barclay will love that leather upholstery,’ he said suggestively.
Under normal circumstances, I’d have got a lot of pleasure out of telling him his tatty sexism had just cost him the commission on a twenty grand sale, but these circumstances were so far from normal, I was beginning to feel like Ground Control to Major Tom as far as my brain was concerned. So instead, I smiled, patted Richard’s arm and said sweetly, ‘Nothing’s too good for my Dick.’ Richard twitched. I reckon he knew instinctively that one way or another, he was going to pay for this.
‘Now, let me just check that we’re both clear what you’re buying here. You’ve seen it in the showroom, we’ve taken it on the test drive of a lifetime, and you’ve decided on the Gemini turbo super coupé GLXi in midnight blue, with ABS, alloy wheels …’ As Darryl ran through the luxury spec I’d instructed Richard to go for, my partner’s eyes glazed over. I almost felt sorry for him. After all, Richard’s car of choice is a clapped-out, customized hot pink Volkswagen Beetle convertible. He thinks BHP is that new high-quality tape system. And isn’t ABS that dance band from Wythenshawe … ?
Darryl paused expectantly. I kicked Richard’s ankle. Only gently, though. He’d done well so far. He jerked back to reality and said, ‘Er, yeah, that sounds perfect. Sorry, I was just a bit carried away, thinking about what it’s going to be like driving her.’ Nice one, Richard.
‘You’re a very lucky man, if I may say so,’ Darryl smarmed, eyeing the curve of my calf under the leopard skin leggings that I’d chosen as appropriate to my exciting new role
