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

I turned. Gordon was frowning up at her. Everybody had turned and was watching her. Her pale skin flushed and she looked suddenly embarrassed. I said, “Farce, Mrs. Cameron?”

She glanced around. “We’re all exhausted. It’s been a terrible shock…”

“Not least for Charles Jr. and his parents. What part of this, exactly, do you see as a farce, Mrs. Cameron?”

She bridled and straightened her back where she was sitting on the arm of Gordon’s chair. He muttered something to her.

She drew breath to speak but I interrupted her. “We’ll be talking to you in good time, but given where you’re sitting right now, I’d be cautious about using words like farce, if I were you.”

She went bright red, which didn’t suit the color of her hair, and I turned and followed Bee and Dehan into the dining room. I closed the door and Bee dropped into a chair, removed her hat and placed both hands over her heart.

“Look here,” she said, then looked at me and Dehan in turn. “I know you Americans are frightfully puritanical and you still believe in the flat Earth and that there were no dinosaurs and all that, but, well, you know, it isn’t really like that!”

I burst out laughing.

Dehan’s eyebrows shot up. “You are kidding me, right, Bee?”

I sat, smiling, and said, “Why don’t you tell us what it is like, Lady Jane?”

She reached over and put her hand on my arm. “You have the benefit of Hollywood over there, and your huge television networks, that tell you all how life should be, ideally, and I think that is just super. But over here, you know, it’s all a bit more primal.”

Dehan shook her head and sighed. “Things get pretty primal in the Bronx, Bee. Believe me.”

I gave her a gentle kick under the table and she sighed again.

Bee sat back. “I am quite sure they do, my dear. But that is a different kind of primal. That’s all about fighting and killing and being badass and frightfully macho. This here…” She gave her head a little shake. “It’s all about sex.” She studied Dehan’s face a moment, then repeated, “Sex, sex, sex, morning, noon and night, nothing but sex. It is quite exhausting.”

I nodded. “It would be.”

“And it’s no good moralizing about it. I am quite certain that if there were a god, He, She or It would not have the faintest interest in who was tupping whom, where, how or why. But as He, She or It is merely a figment of our imagination, the issue really doesn’t arise, does it?”

I shook my head. “No. But perhaps you could put a little flesh on the bones for us. In what way, precisely, is Charles Jr.’s death about sex?”

“Well…” She folded her hands carefully on the table in front of her. “Have you ever heard of the Pitcairn Islands?”

“That is where the crew of the Bounty wound up, if I am not mistaken.”

“Precisely. And because they were all living on a small island, they had no religion and they all lived in somewhat primal conditions, they all became obsessed with sex. And precisely the same thing has happened here, on Gordon’s Swona.”

I tried not to sigh. “That is a very interesting perspective, Bee, but again, socio-economic dynamics aside. How, precisely, does this relate to Junior?”

“Well, I mean to say, I should have thought it was obvious!” She leaned across the table toward Dehan. “Do you think that if Charles Senior were not so rich he would be half so attractive? Of course his arrogance and his stature have a certain appeal, on a very basic, animal level, but it’s his stature, his wealth, the fact that he owns an island and a castle. It all adds up to sex appeal. Without the trappings he would just be obnoxious, and I speak as a woman who has adored him for decades.”

Dehan had adopted a rictus that involved thin lips and narrowed eyes. I examined the walls a moment and finally said, “I am still not seeing it, Bee. Charles Jr.? Connection?”

She heaved a big sigh.

“Well, for goodness sake…! Young Charles was not unattractive? And aside from his father, he was the richest man on the island and destined to inherit everything. He was far too much of a gentleman to kiss and tell, of course, but anyone who thinks that he wasn’t getting his end away is sadly misguided. I mean, a rich, personable bachelor…”

Dehan frowned and grunted. I was about to ask her to be more precise but she went right ahead and did just that.

“Now, I should imagine that you have been struggling, amongst other things, with the question, who on Earth would want to hurt such a charming, agreeable, harmless chap as Charles. Well, the answer is quite simple. Sex. Sex, to paraphrase the Bard, doth make monsters of us all. So the question becomes not who would want to harm Charles but who was jealous of Charles and hence, who was Charles getting his end away with?”

I waited, watching her. She waited, watching me back. Finally I said, “So who was he getting his end away with?”

“You mean aside from the maids?”

“Yes, Bee, aside from the maids.”

“I’m sure I don’t know. But if I were ten years younger, I can assure you I’d have had him by now. And I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling that way.”

I scratched my head. “This is just speculation, Bee. Do you know, for a fact, that he was in a relationship with somebody?”

She shook her head. “But believe me, he was. And if you’ll forgive the crudeness, the screw pool is not exactly vast on this island, is it?”

Dehan sighed and there was a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Bee, where were you between six