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

the door. She called Brown and the major. Meanwhile, I shook my head at Cameron. “Just this once, Doc, we’ll let the major and the butler do it.”

“What the hell is going on here?”

“We’re about to tell you.”

The major appeared at the door. Pam took the tablets from Cameron’s fingers. He said, “Take two, no more.” She rose and crossed the room to the major. They departed with Cameron staring after them as Dehan closed the door. Dehan sat. Cameron looked from me to her and back again. He was worried. He repeated, “What the hell is going on? Somebody had better start explaining or else…”

I sat forward and interrupted him. “You had a row with Charles Gordon Sr. this evening. What was that about?”

“Mind your own fuckin’ business is what it was about!”

“Was it his fucking business you were mad about?”

He stood. I don’t know if he was going to leave or hit me. I looked up into his face and said, “Charles Gordon has been murdered, Doctor.”

The blood drained from his face. “What? No, I…” He turned and pointed to the door. Then realization set in. “You mean…”

Dehan nodded. “The son. Charles Gordon Jr. Now, Doc, suppose we start again? What was the row about?”

FOURTEEN

He sat slowly at the table, staring at Dehan, then at me.

“Young Charles…? Murdered? He can’t be… It’s absurd! I should see the body! Thus is insane! Why, he may not even be dead! Have you all lost your minds?”

I said, “Nobody has lost their mind, Doctor, and believe me, he is not alive. We’ll take you to see him in a while, so you can write a death certificate. But before that, we need to ask you some questions.”

His face flushed with anger. I got the feeling that was something that happened often and easily.

“Who the bloody hell d’you think y’are? You cannot interrogate me! I’m a Scotsman in my own fuckin’ country! You can’t come in here demanding to ask me fuckin’ questions! You bloody Americans think you can…”

I cut him short. “Take it easy, Doc, nobody is marching in anywhere or demanding anything. It looks like we might be cut off for the next couple of days or three. Gordon Sr. asked us to look into his son’s murder. Nobody can force you to answer questions, to us or to your own cops for that matter. But he’s been murdered, there is no question about that, and it makes sense to start investigating before the trail goes cold.” I shrugged and spread my hands. “I can’t see that it makes much difference what nationality we are. The fact is we are experienced homicide detectives.” I shrugged. “But if you want to refuse to talk to us because we’re Americans, that’s fine, we can notify the cops when they get here that you were unwilling to cooperate.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Don’t be absurd. It’s just a shock. I’m still reeling. How did it happen?”

We both stared at him for a long moment, waiting. Finally, Dehan said, “This is the third time we’re having to ask you this, Doctor. We’re not here for a chat and a gossip. We’re here on Mr. Gordon’s invitation to investigate a homicide, until such time as the Scottish PD can be notified. Now, for the third time, what did you argue about?”

He sank back in his chair. “As though you don’t already know! OK! We’ll play along wuth the wee farce! Sally was—is—having an affair wuth that old bastard. Until recently they were at least discreet, an’ I thought it would blow over. The man is notorious fer the number of women he has had affairs wuth. He seduces them, plays around with them for a week or two, then sends them packing. But that didn’t happen with Sal. It went on, and on. And it just seemed to get more serious every week. Till suddenly we were being invited fer dinner at the fuckin’ castle.”

He shifted in his chair, looking around at the walls like they were making him mad. He pointed toward the drawing room again and his face flushed red. “So that he… So that he could gloat and humiliate his wife and me! Together! I ask you, what kind of sick bastard does that, eh?”

He half stood and sat, shifted. He couldn’t keep still in his chair. “But there’s more. There’s more. You don’t know thus. Sal’s shop, that belongs to him. Mah practice, mah surgery, is above the post office, an’ that belong to him an’all. I’m thirty-seven years old. My whole practice is on his wee island. Now, what do yous think is going to happen to me if he decides he’s had enough of Pamela fuckin’ May because she’s too old and fuckin’ wrinkly? If he decides he wants my wife instead of his own? I’ll tell yous what’ll fuckin’ happen. Either he’ll kick me out an’ force me into unemployment on the fuckin mainland, or he’ll keep me here so’s him and his new fuckin’ trophy bride can laugh at me and humiliate me.” He stared at me for a long moment. His breathing was heavy and fast and his face was flushed. He shifted in his seat again and said savagely, “So that’s what the fuckin’ row was about!”

I scratched my chin. The wind was still moaning outside, but I was aware the thunder had grown more distant.

“What time was that?”

He shook his head. “Sal came up one thirty or two. You were there. You saw.”

Dehan said, “And you?”

“I wasn’t going to come. Then I thought, I can’t see my patients in thus state of mind. I had to get it off my chest an’ have it out with the bastard. So I come up and he were out there, in the hall, just standin’ there, leering at