Free The Price of Butcher's Meat by Reginald Hill Page B

up these.
    Suddenly I didn’t feel so badly dressed.
    Still he didn’t move or speak. Then the landlord said warningly,
    “Hen.”
    Now he smiled. Bare gums mainly, and the few teeth you could see through the foliage were greeny yallery shading to black at the roots. I half-expected Festerwhanger to faint.
    Then he stepped to one side and did a piss-taking bow and said, “So sorry, Your Ladyship. Didn’t see you there. So sorry. Would hate to get in Your Ladyship’s way.”
    “You won’t,” she said. And went sweeping past him, young Clara in pursuit, looking a bit embarrassed.
    The old boy kicked the door shut behind them. The landlord said,
    “Watch it, Hen. It’s me as is responsible for fixtures and fittings. Your usual, Dr. Feldenhammer?”

    T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 5 7
    The Yank, who’d been watching the incident with interest, nodded.
    His usual was a short. Dark amber, enough ice to sink the Titanic . Jack Daniel’s mebbe. At least it weren’t purple. Festerwhanger sipped it, then turned and leaned against the bar. His face split into that toothy grin as he acted like he’d just noticed us.
    “Well hello there, Franny,” he called. “And Mr. Dalziel too. Glad to see you’re getting around, sir. You’re looking well.”
    Roote gave my thigh a told-you- so jab under the table. I’d have given him a let’s-wait-and- see kick back, only with him not having any feeling in his legs, it didn’t seem worth the effort.
    “Aye, I’m not so bad,” I lied. Truth was, I felt distinctly woozy. The ancient geezer had got himself a pint without opening his mouth or handing over money, so far as I could see. Another time I’d have been interested to find out what had just gone off here, but at the moment, I didn’t give a toss.
    “Good. And you, Franny, how are you? Coming to Tom’s meeting on Friday, I hope?”
    “Of course. Exciting times, Lester. Won’t you join us?”
    Franny and Lester. Like an old music hall act. Roote had really got his useless legs under the table round here. Sounded like his social cal-endar were pretty full too.
    “Thanks but I can’t stay,” said the Yank. “Just came out to drop an express package in the post office. My niece’s birthday back home. Almost forgot, which would have been a capital offense. Felt I’d earned a quick one, but I need to be back up at the clinic pretty much right away.”
    I weren’t so ill I didn’t notice there were too much bloody detail.
    Think a shrink would know summat like that. Plus, most country post offi ces I’d come across shut up at midday on a Saturday.
    The door opened again. This were getting like a French farce. New arrival were a well-set-up young fellow, one of them craggy faces that has five o’clock shadow at half past one. Looked like he reckoned the world owed him a living and the women in it owed him a shagging.

    5 8
    R E G I N A L D H I L L
    He said, “Alan, any sign of my aunt?”
    “Been and gone. Says she’ll see you in Moby’s.”
    “Oh dear. Bit pissed off, is she? That will mean the lobster thermi-dor, I fear. But then, she was never going to choose the monkfish pâté, was she?”
    He made a wry sort of face to show he was joking, only he wasn’t.
    Now he let himself take in the others in the bar. Worzel Gummidge he ignored, me and Roote he shot a cocky grin at and said, “Ah, Franny, nursy taking you for a stroll?” then he did a double take, as if he’d just noticed Fester, and cried, “Is that you, Dr. Feldenhammer? Didn’t recognize you in a sitting position, sir. I hope I find you well. Mustn’t keep auntie waiting.”
    Then he left, whistling raucously.
    I saw Festerwhanger flush the color of old port. Either he were seriously narked or he was going to have a seizure.
    He downed the rest of his drink like he needed it, ice cubes clanging against his snowy teeth hard enough to dislodge a polar bear, slid off his stool, gave the landlord a curt nod, and marched through