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

as though she thought she might understand what she was saying. “I never believed Charles was capable of killing his own father. I knew he resented him. I knew there was a lot of anger, but I always had it in my mind that all that resentment and anger covered up a need to be loved. He didn’t want to kill him. He wanted to hurt him, to make him pay attention! That’s why I never believed that the old man was murdered.”

She looked from me to Dehan and back again, searching for confirmation that what she was saying made sense. I was still wondering what it was exactly that she was saying. She must have seen that because she went on, looking into my eyes.

“I mean, why would he?” Suddenly her face twisted with anger and bitterness. “All he ever wanted was to hurt people. That is the joy of life for him! Causing pain and humiliation. Believe me, he would have got far more out of seeing his father’s face at our wedding than out of killing the poor old bastard!”

She raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the drawing room. “And if he looks upset now, it’s not for the loss of his son! Oh, God no! It’s because he won’t have him there to torture, torment and humiliate anymore!”

Dehan leaned forward. “Mrs. Gordon, Pam, I’m a little confused. I’m not sure what you are telling us here. Because on the one hand it sounds as though you’re saying Charles Gordon Sr. would not have killed his own father and his son, because he would prefer to torment them, but on the other it sounds as though you’re suggesting he did. Can you clarify this for me?”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and gave a long, shuddering sigh.

“I don’t know what I’m saying.” She opened her eyes again, then looked back at Dehan. “I’m telling you I never believed that the old man was murdered. He was always going on about how it was murder, and the fellow who came up from London. But I never believed it. It didn’t make any sense to me. Who would want him dead? But now, you’re saying this to me, and the only person who’d had any kind of motive was Charles… But I can’t believe it. His own father, his own son!”

I sighed and flopped back in my chair. “Where were you this afternoon and this evening, Mrs. Gordon?”

She gaped at me. Her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. “You think I killed my own son?”

I shook my head. “I think that is very unlikely, but I still want to know where you were, because then maybe you can confirm where other people were. If we can nail down everybody’s whereabouts up to cocktails, then it won’t be hard to spot the person with no alibi. That’s the theory, anyway.”

She closed her eyes.

“I left you at the inn. That must have been one or one thirty. I’m not sure. I walked back because I wanted to clear my head. I went up to my room and had a wee lie down. But then, about three or so, he came in and said he needed me to leave the bedroom because he was entertaining!”

Her face flushed red. I nodded that I understood. “Did he tell you who he was entertaining?”

“He didn’t need to.” Her face and her voice were savage. “His latest fancy is Sally Cameron. It’s not the first time he’s had her here, but he’s never been quite so blatant about it before.”

Dehan raised an eyebrow. “What would make him become blatant like that, do you think?”

The room went very quiet. It was the same question I was about to ask. Pam stared hard at her hands and her jaw worked, but she didn’t say anything for a good while. Eventually she shrugged and shook her head. “Old age? Complacency? The knowledge that he can get away with blue bloody murder and nobody will raise a fucking finger to stop him?”

I drummed my fingers softly on the table. “It was hard to miss, Mrs. Gordon, that you and he did not draw together when you discovered your son was dead. It was Sally who was consoling him.”

“That would be no great surprise to anybody.”

“Is it possible that theirs is more than just a passing affair?”

“I’ve no doubt she believes it is.”

“And if she is right, could that be why he has become more blatant?”

She gazed at me with hostile eyes. “What has this to do with my son’s murder?”

I nodded several times. It was a good question, and I wasn’t sure what the answer was. “So, he asked you to leave the room. What happened next?”

“I dressed and went downstairs. My son and the major were in the drawing room, but I couldn’t face seeing people so I went out onto the terrace. Bee came out after me and sat with me. The woman is insufferable. She is forever trying to be kind to me, in spite of my low class! I could….” She stopped herself and took a deep breath. “She knew that Sally was there. She had arrived with the groceries for the kitchen. Charles has a taste for working class wenches. No doubt the whole fucking house was gossiping and giggling about Sally making her ‘delivery’!”

Dehan asked, “What happened next?”

“We talked for a while. I asked her how she could still love him after the way he had treated her for all these years. She gave me some crap about how she loved him because of the way he was. I told her she must be a fuckin’ masochist, and she said maybe she was, but she didn’t care. She was happy just to be near him.”

She gave an ugly smile and snorted. Dehan narrowed her