Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #3: Books 9-12 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [reading in the dark TXT] 📗

She said, “It smells like it was fired recently, but the muzzle is cold, so it wasn’t that recent.”

I nodded. “That figures.”

She frowned. “It does?”

“Mm-hm…” I pulled my cell from my pocket again and photographed the door and the muddy prints that led from it across the Wilton carpet to the side of the desk. “Their nice carpet is getting a lot of punishment. I wonder if they deliberately chose red.”

She narrowed her eyes at me and pointed her finger at my chest like a gun. “How did you know?”

I made a face like brain-ache and shook my head. “I didn’t. I told you. It was a feeling.” I shrugged. “They killed the old man, but none of the issues they had were resolved. It felt like they were all bubbling to the surface again.”

She spread her hands. “But why now, almost forty years later?”

I thought about it, chewing my lip. “Maybe for that very reason.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Stone? You’re being cryptic. You know that makes me mad. And besides, this poor sap wasn’t even born when his grandfather was killed.”

I smiled at her. “Miss Scarlet in the study with the dinosaur. This is not our case, Miss Scarlet. We have done the Scottish police the courtesy of preserving their crime scene, and now we must graciously withdraw.”

She grunted and walked past me to the bay window, examining it carefully.

“You know we are both ignoring the elephant in the room. We should call the doctor.”

“You mean the one who was here a little earlier threatening to destroy people? The one whose wife is sleeping with the victim’s father? That doctor?”

“Yeah, that one.”

I stared at the burning logs in the fire, thinking of Bobby standing in the hall, staring up at us on the stairs. He’d said he had business with Gordon. I’d asked him, “Father or son?”

He’d stood, staring at me, and shaken his head: “Na’ye mind. Ah ken the way.”

The flames burned a good three feet high, wavering against the blackened bricks. The wood crackled and sparks showered onto the hearth. Ian Cameron, standing on the black and white checkered floor beneath us, the light from the study door lying slantwise, casting his shadow long behind him. “I will destroy you!” he had said, “So help me God, I will fucking destroy you!”

I had assumed he was talking to Gordon Sr. It was hard to imagine anybody feeling that strongly toward Gordon Jr. I sighed and turned to Dehan. “Come along, Miss Scarlet. Let’s stop messing up the crime scene. It’s not ours to mess up.”

With a face that was on the mad side of reluctant she moved toward the door and stopped. Brown was there, staring at Gordon Jr. with tears in his eyes. He looked up at Dehan, “Mr. Gordon, madam…”

Dehan seemed nonplussed for a moment. I stepped toward him and said, “He’s been shot, Brown.”

He frowned at me, struggling to understand. “Who…?”

“We don’t know. We have to wait until the police arrive.”

He looked around the room. “It’s the same…”

I nodded. “Almost exactly the same.”

“They’ll put it down to suicide again. But Mr. Gordon wouldn’t, sir. I know he wouldn’t.”

Dehan stepped closer to him. “What makes you say that?”

His bottom lip curled and the tears spilled from his eyes. “He was happy go lucky… He wasn’t…” He pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket, mopped his eyes and blew his nose. “Forgive me, sir, but…” He spoke quietly, looking at his handkerchief. “He wasn’t like the others, if you know what I mean.” He looked me in the eye. “He had no…” He hesitated, then his face twisted with anger. “He had no agenda! He wasn’t trying to get anything from anyone, he was happy to take life as it came, day to day.”

I nodded. “I understand.” I sighed. “Look, we have a very delicate situation here. My wife and I are very experienced police officers, but we have no jurisdiction. This scene must be preserved until the police arrive. The door needs to be sealed. Can you see to that?”

He studied my face for a long moment, then stared at Dehan. “Are we just going to leave him like that?”

I nodded. “I’m afraid we have to, until they arrive.”

He took a deep breath. “I understand. I’ll find a chain and a padlock, sir, and leave the keys with you.”

“That will do fine. Thank you.”

He moved to the cupboard by the ballroom, switched on the light, disappeared inside and reappeared a moment later with a tool kit, a length of chain and a strong padlock. While he set about securing the door, Dehan and I crossed the hall and pushed into the drawing room.

What we found there was not an attractive sight. Gordon was in a large armchair by the wall, apart from the rest. He looked pasty and sick. Sally was sitting on the arm of that chair, stroking his head and muttering things to him. They both looked up as we came in. He looked anxious. She looked like she was trying to read us.

Pam had returned to her chair by the fire. She had curled up on herself and had her face in her hands, rocking back and forth in silence. Bee had also returned to her place on the sofa. She looked startled, as though somebody had just shouted at her and she couldn’t get over it. She was silent, but she had a small, floral handkerchief and kept dabbing her eyes with it. The major was sitting beside her, frowning resentfully at the fire. I looked for Bob Armstrong. He was in a chair by the library, scowling at the window.

I closed the door and looked at the parents