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

Pam pointed at the drawing room door. Her accent seemed to be getting stronger the madder she got. “That bastard humiliated and broke me, and because of that I’ve tolerated all the shit that he’s thrown at me for nearly forty years. I watched him break my son’s spirit, I watched him parade one tart after another through our bedroom, I let him rape me more times than I can remember. I watched him—the one girl my son fell in love with, they even got engaged, and that bastard seduced her, bought her, just so he could humiliate his own son. And I sat by and watched it happen, year after year, because he had broken me, too.” She shook her head. “But Sally Cameron? She’s an even bigger bastard than he is. And she’s thirty years younger than him, and she knows he needs her more than she needs him. And she will not tolerate the likes of Lady Bee and all the other tarts parading around the house…”

I said, “You think he is planning to divorce you and marry Sally?”

She looked sourly at her hands. “Of course he is. And then he’ll get a taste of his own bloody medicine, because she will take him for everything he’s got, and then dump him for a younger man.”

Dehan shifter uncomfortably in her dress and kicked off her red satin shoes. “So, you talked to Bee, then what?”

She shrugged. “She made me angry. She couldn’t see that we were both as screwed as each other. They were going to kick us both out. It made me so mad that all she could do was defend him…” She studied Dehan’s face a moment. “Then you came out onto the terrace. I’m sorry about what I said.” She smiled ruefully. “You’re probably the first woman in years he’s met and hasn’t screwed.”

Dehan shook her head. “So where did you go from there?”

“I went to one of the spare rooms. Frankly, I just wanted a good cry and a sleep. As I came out into the hall…” She glanced at me. “You and the major and my son were just going into the study.”

“How long did you stay in the guest room?”

“Until…” She rubbed her face with her hands and took a deep breath. “Until about half past six. Then I showered, changed and came down.”

“Did you see anybody?”

She shook her head. “No, the study door was closed.”

“Who was in the drawing room?”

She shrugged. “Exactly as you saw it. You came in just after me.”

“You didn’t witness the row with Dr. Cameron?”

“No. He had just left when I came down. Charles was talking about it. He thought it was funny. So did Sally.”

“We are almost done, Mrs. Gordon…”

“Please stop calling me that. I’m no his wife anymore. I’ve got to stop pretending to be somebody I’m not. I’m Pamela May, no Pamela Gordon. The only thing that tied me to that bastard was the son we had together. Now he’s gone and I am free.” She raised her eyes to mine. “I’m Pamela, or Pam.”

I nodded. “Pam. Did Robert Armstrong have any quarrel with your son that you know of?”

She looked surprised. “Bobby?” She shrugged. “Bobby’s always been a miserable bastard. Nobody likes him, except that stuck up tart he’s with, Elizabeth, Lizzie. He has always hated my…” She sighed. “He has always hated Charles Sr., because he says he cheated him out of his inheritance. Which is patently absurd. All he did was persuade his father not to give away their estate to complete strangers on the strength of some dubious connection based on clan history.”

I shrugged. “Still, the resentment was there.”

“Against Charles Sr., never against my son, as far as I am aware.” She looked suddenly drawn. “Detectives, the fact is that nobody on Earth could have had any conceivable motive to kill Charles. You knew him. That was him through and though. He was a kind, sweet, gentle soul. If anybody deserved to die it was his father, and God knows enough people had motive for that, me the first among them. It is a cruel, twisted irony that it was his son who got murdered.”

There was a tap at the door and Brown stepped in. “Detectives, Dr. Cameron is here.”

I looked at Dehan, we stared at each other a moment in a kind of silent telepathy, then I sighed and sat forward. “Thank you, Brown, will you send him in, please?”

He stepped out and a moment later opened the door again to admit Dr. Ian Cameron and his black bag. His face said he was both very confused and very annoyed. He took three strides, saying, “Would somebody mind telling me…” Then he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Pam. After a moment, the anger drained from his face. “Pam? What in the name of God…?”

I watched him approach the table, grab a chair and drag it over beside Pamela. He held her hand, touched her face and examined her eyes, all in a matter of a few seconds. “What happened to you, lass?” He scowled at me and Dehan. “What the hell is going on?”

Pam drew breath but I put my hand on her arm. “Mrs. Gordon has had a very powerful, traumatic shock. You may consider she needs a sedative to be able to sleep. After that, we will tell you exactly what has happened, and in fact you may be able to help us sort it out. It’s a bit of a mess.”

He studied us a moment, then turned back to Pamela. “Pam?”

She nodded. “Please, Ian, just give me something to knock me out for few hours. I’m shattered.”

He opened his bag and took a small plastic bottle of tablets. Then he looked at me. “I should accompany her…”

Dehan rose and went to