by Blake Banner
He stared at me wide-eyed. “Dear God…” Then his face creased into disbelief again. “But why? I mean, he was a twat, but he was a nice guy. There was no harm in ’im. You wouldn’t want to kill him!”
A sudden thought made him point at me and then at Dehan. “An’ your notion that I shot him through the window, by mistake, is just plain stupid! He was clearly shot from one o’ them chairs, an’ at that distance there is no mistaking the son fer the father!”
“I know.”
“What?”
“We just wanted to know which way you jumped.”
“You bastards!”
“You’d better believe it.”
“I’m a doctor! Ah don’t fuckin’ kill people.”
Dehan snorted. “I don’t believe that’s a defense at law, even in Scotland.”
He sighed and seemed to sag. Then he hunkered down and opened his black bag. From it he took a form and, after a brief examination of the body, made out the death certificate. After a moment he looked up at me. “Time of death?”
I shrugged and looked at Dehan. She said, “Some time between… You, me and the major were the last people to see him alive, and that was, what, shortly before six?”
I nodded, “And Armstrong found him at shortly before eight. So that’s your time of death. Where were you at that time?”
He scribbled on the form. “You know where I was. I was on my way here, I was shouting at Gordon Sr. and I was on my way home, while my wife stayed behind to play house with the Laird.”
“It’s not a great alibi.”
“Yeah, well, if I’d known ah was goin’ to need one, I’d of prepared a better one.” He stood. “I’m no stupid. If I was goin’ to kill him, I wouldn’a stood shoutin’ at him in the bloody hall. Besides…” He shook his head. “Whoever killed him intended to kill the son, no the father. There was no mistaken identity here. Whoever killed him was sitting in one of them chairs, lookin’ at him. How they got out, tha’s the mystery.”
“Do you mind sticking around for a while?”
“What for?”
“Pamela might need you. Also, I’d like to have you around until I’ve finished asking all my questions.”
He sighed, then nodded. “Fine, but I’m warnin’ you. If that bastard starts on at me…”
I interrupted him. “Don’t say or do anything you’re likely to regret, Doctor. There has already been one tragedy tonight. Let’s try and avoid another.”
He left the room and crossed into the drawing room, closing the door behind him. I stood staring at the two chairs while Dehan stared at the body. She said suddenly, “He has no motive.” Then she shrugged. “Fact is, nobody has a motive. He said it himself, why would anybody want to kill him? He was just a sweet, bumbling, inoffensive guy.” She looked at me for confirmation that I agreed and I nodded absently. “Plus,” she went on, “How old is this killer? Let’s say he or she was twenty back when they killed Old Man Gordon. That makes him or her sixty now, which narrows the field right down—to his mother, his father and Bee. Or the major! None of them is credible, Stone.”
“Mhm.”
“And then there’s opportunity. How the hell do we establish opportunity when we have no idea how the crime was committed?” She gestured at the two chesterfields with both hands. “He is sitting in one of those two chairs. If he is right-handed, logic dictates it is the chair on our left, over there, which gives the correct angle and trajectory for the shot. But apparently this shooter is invisible, because Old Man Gordon was peacefully reading his book and didn’t notice the guy sitting in his chesterfield aiming a gun at his head; and Charles Jr. was, what, doing his accounts? He didn’t see the guy holding his father’s Smith & Wesson either. And after the invisible man or woman with the gun had shot them both, he just beamed up to the Enterprise, like he had never been here. How the hell do we establish opportunity when it is impossible to show how the killer was even here?”
I blinked at her, then smiled. “That’s the clever bit about this whole crime, Dehan. The killer never was here.”
FIFTEEN
We switched off the light, locked the study, and made our way back to the drawing room. As we entered, Bee stood and came toward us with her left hand over her heart and her right hand reaching out for me.
“Carmen, Stone, Detectives, forgive me, but I am not as young as I once was, this has all been a frightful strain on me, you have seen Pamela and Dr. Cameron, could you not take my statement now, and let me get some rest? Perhaps the doctor could give me something…”
“Of course, Bee.” I smiled and gestured toward the dining room door.
Behind me I heard Sally’s voice, harsh and a little shrill. “How long is this farce going to take?”
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 and seven this evening?”
Bee beamed. “Darling! Am I a suspect? How exciting! Let me see. You and I spoke on the terrace. Then you went off with Stone, such a strong name, and poor Charles and the major. I stayed in the drawing room and read a magazine, and after that the major came and joined me, we chatted. Then Charles Sr. came in with Sally, and that’s about it, really.”
Dehan frowned. “He came in with Sally?”
“Yes, dear.”
“You heard the doctor shouting at him?”
“Oh yes, one could hardly fail to, but that was a little earlier. I’m afraid I’m not awfully good when it comes to time. One moment flows, as it were, into another.”
I nodded a few times, considering the fact that there are few things in this world as slippery as a member of the British upper classes.
“In your opinion, Bee—and please understand I am only asking for your opinion—who stands to gain from Charles Jr.’s death?”
Her eyebrows arched. “Well, Pamela, naturally, and me. But only if daddy Charles doesn’t marry again, and only when he dies. Pamela will get everything. She is now, to all intents and purposes, his sole heir. I get a percentage of his estate, I don’t know how much, but I believe it is generous. However…” She shook her head. “All of that could change over night if he gives Pamela the old heave-ho and marries Sally. Then we are all well and truly screwed. Metaphorically. The only one who’s getting screwed literally is Sally, lucky bitch.”
Dehan smiled. “Bee?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Screwed is a metaphor. Sally is not literally getting screwed.”
Bee smiled vacantly. “Oh, yes.”
I took a deep breath. “Is there anything else, Bee, that you feel you need to tell us, or that we ought to know?”
“Not really. I am sure you are doing a simply marvelous job. I should now like to go to bed. It has been an awfully trying day. And perhaps you could ask that appalling Doctor Cameron to give me something.” She stood and added absently, “They do let almost anyone into the professions these days. It is too bad, really.”
Dehan went to the door with her, smiling and muttering, “No standards…”
“None, darling. None at all.”
Bee left, Dehan closed the door and leaned against it, looking at me. She smiled unhappily. “Some honeymoon.”
I nodded, then shook my head. “Next time, I choose the destination.”
“Next time?”
“You better believe it.”
She gave a small laugh. “I’d like to talk to Gordon. I’d like to know about his will. He’s the key to all this. Him and his dead father.”
“I agree. But before we do, I’d like to have a chat with the major.”
She frowned. “The major? You like him for this?”
“No, but he is the country manor equivalent of the village gossip. Whatever Bee is hinting at, he has the dope. When we talk to Gordon, I’d like to have the major’s intel behind me.”
She nodded. “See? That’s why you’re the oldest.”
She turned, opened the door and leaned out. “Major, could we have a chat?”
There was the sound of anxious bumbling closely followed by the major smiling apologetically as he hurried in. I gestured him to a chair at the head of the table and he sat. We sat on either side of him and he said, “I suppose you’ll want to know what I was up to between six and eight.”
I nodded. “Amongst other things.”
“Of course, we were all in the study together, and he was alive at that time.”
Dehan smiled. “We would have noticed if he wasn’t.”
He nodded, frowning. “Oh, most assuredly. No, he was definitely alive then. And after that, well, you chaps went upstairs, Charles stayed in the study, and I went over to the drawing room, hoping for a snifter.”
“Was there anybody there when you went in?”
“Yes. Bee was there, reading one of those awful magazines. Offered her a drink and she said, ‘Not half, govenor!’” He laughed out loud, then flushed bright red. “Like a Cockney, you know. She’s a great laugh, old Bee. Aristocracy, you know. Never guess, not toffee-nosed at all. Just an average gal.”
Dehan nodded. “Yup. Just one of the guys. So, did either of you leave the room after that?”
“Well, um, ah… I may have um… ahh… you know… um…”
I drummed my fingers on the table a few times. “Gone to the bathroom, Major?”
“Quite so, exactly, um, yes.”
“And Bee?”
“Yuh, also, perhaps. But other than that, we were there until everyone started coming in for cocktails. Including your, uh, good selves.”
“Did you see or hear anybody else during that time?”
“No, only Cameron, making a bit of a spectacle of himself, shouting at Charles. Can’t blame the man, I suppose, bit of a rough deal, when you… When you think about it…”
He looked embarrassed and turned away.
I leaned forward. “What is a rough deal, Major?”
He seemed to bark, like a Scottish terrier. “Well! One doesn’t like to gossip… Man’s private life… but, you know…”
“I agree, but given that this is a murder inquiry, and that our personal interest in the doctor’s private life is somewhat less than zero, I think you are justified in telling us what the rough deal is.”
He looked momentarily startled, then nodded. “Yes, I see, quite so, quite so. Um, well, the odd thing is that Bee and I had, just before the shouting started, you understand, had been, as it were, discussing, not gossiping but discussing, more widely, the doctor’s position on the island.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? And what did you judge his positio
n to be?”
“Well… um…” He nodded several times. “Precarious, to say the least.”
Dehan sighed noisily, like a person putting together a five thousand piece jigsaw puzzle, blindfolded. “Would you please explain why you thought that, Major?”
“Of course. The thing is, he was only aware of half of his problems, which is ironic, considering how things turned out. You see…” He leaned forward, glancing at us in turn with only his eyes. “She wasn’t only seeing Charles Sr. She was also seeing Charles Jr. on the side.”
“When you say seeing…”
“Oh, I mean that they were having a… you know… carnal affair, not to put too fine a point on it. Bit of the old one two, if you follow.”
Dehan raised an eyebrow. “And you are sure of this?”
“Oh, absolutely. No shadow of a doubt.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Well, he told me.”
Dehan looked skeptical. “Kiss and tell? That doesn’t sound like Jr.”
“No! Quite so. You are absolutely right, but you see, I was a bit of a confidant for the poor boy. Bee and I have sort of been around all his life, and he could never really confide in his father, or poor Pam for that matter, so Bee and I sort of stepped into the breach, if you follow. The poor boy wasn’t bragging about a conquest, far from it, he was worried sick about what would happen if his father found out.”