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

“Wait!” He became serious. “You really know who killed my son, and my father?”

I nodded. “Yes. I know who and I know how.”

“And you can prove it?”

I sighed. “If you help me, yes.”

“Tell me who, and how!”

I shook my head. “We do it my way. First you tell me about your money…”

He sighed, rubbed his face and said, “Fine, I’ll have to contact my solicitor when the storm blows over, to bring… everything. He’ll have to come over…”

“How long will that take?”

“Not long, he’s just over the water. You’ll have to know… the details… I suppose.” He stared at me hard. “But I am counting on you to keep this strictly confidential! That’s the deal!”

SEVENTEEN

Sally stood, but the others remained seated. They all stared. Then Sally half rushed across the room, staring at Gordon with anxious eyes, saying, “Oh, Charles! Come and sit down. What you must be going through!”

She led him back across the room to a chair and sat him down. I glanced at Ian. There was real hatred in his eyes as he watched them. I took a deep breath and spoke.

“We’re pretty much done here.”

Armstrong looked offended. “Ye haven’t spoke t’me! Ye haven’t got mah point of view!”

I nodded at him. “That’s because I don’t need it, Armstrong.” I looked back at the others. “We now have statements from everybody who was at the house at the time of Charles’ murder. We hope to be able to contact the police on the mainland tomorrow, and they can take over from there.” I smiled at Dehan. “And we can get back to our honeymoon.” I looked back at the assembled faces. “I should tell you, however, that we have been able to establish who murdered Charles tonight, who murdered his grandfather almost forty years ago, and how it was done.”

There was a collective gasp from those assembled except Cameron, to my right and slightly behind me, who looked at me with contempt and sneered, “You have got to be kidding!”

I ignored him and watched the major get unsteadily to his feet. He was frowning hard. He spoke above a rising murmur of voices. “Are you serious? But…” He shook his head. “That’s fantastic. I hope you’re not… How could you possibly…?”

Armstrong, sitting beside Cameron, raised his voice rose above the others. “He couldn’t, tha’s how! Ut’s no possible. He’s bluffing!”

Sally was speaking urgently to Gordon. Gordon was shaking his head, answering under his breath. Cameron was on his feet, approaching me. “If you know who done it, tell us! I say ye’re full o’ bullshit!”

Armstrong stayed seated, half-shouting. “Yis don’t know shit!”

If you shout back, they just shout louder. So I spoke quietly. “I will communicate my findings to the police tomorrow, and they will act on them and it will be up to them to find the evidence to prove, or disprove, what Detective Dehan and I have found.” The room fell silent. I added, “You all had the opportunity to speak before. If you have anything to say, that was the time to have said it. If you didn’t say it then, I suggest you wait till morning and tell the cops when they arrive.”

Armstrong spoke up again. “Ah didneh get a chance to speak. You don’t want ta hear what ah have to say, do ye? Wha’s the matter? The old man paying yous to keep a few things quiet?”

Suddenly Sally was on her feet and Gordon was pulling at her arm, telling her to sit and be quiet. But she wasn’t in the mood to sit or be quiet. Her red hair flying and her blue eyes flashing, she let rip.

“Why don’t you shut yer fuckin’ mouth, Bobby Armstrong? All you and yer bloody whooring mother ever did was cause trouble! Why don’t you fuckin’ sit doon an’ shut yer fuckin’ trap fer once in your fuckin’ life!”

You have never really seen anger until you have seen an angry Scotsman. Armstrong’s face went crimson and the veins in his forehead stood out and pulsed. His eyes were wide and staring. He stood and his voice was a rasp in his throat.

“Who are you callin’ a fuckin’ whoore? Fuckin’ thus thievin’ bastard and fuckin’ his son at the same fuckin’ time! An’ you call my mother a whoore?”

I saw Gordon flash a look at Sally and then at me. He was putting two and two together. But Armstrong hadn’t finished yet. He was stabbing the air with a finger that would have pierced concrete.

“At least mah mother was faithful te Old Gordon. At least she loved the old man! But you? You are just a gold digging fuckin’ user!” He turned and pointed at Cameron. “Ye’re married to a good man! An honest man! And you humiliate him every fuckin’ day with yer filthy, disgusting behavior! Ye should be ashamed o’yerself!”

Sally was not about to be silenced. “Och! Spare me yer bloody moralizing sermon, you hypocritical piece o’shite! You think we don’t know what you do when you get the ferry across to John O’Groats? You think the whole island doesn’t know you been seeing whoores? Cause no fuckin’ island woman will touch you!”

Armstrong went dangerously quiet. “What I been doin’ in John O’Groats is my own buznezz, Sally Cameron. But I’ll tell you thus. The only person on this island who doesn’t know about you and tha’ dead man in there, is his thievin’ fuckin’ father.”

The room was deathly silent. The major was staring hard at the floor. Sally had gone very pale. Armstrong sneered at Gordon, then turned to me. “Did yous include that titbit in your brilliant piece o’detection? Ah bet ye didn’t.”

He turned and sat down again. Cameron was still standing by my side,