Murder Most Scottish: Dead Cold Mystery 11 by Blake Banner

Author:Blake Banner [Banner, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-22T17:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

Somebody had lit the fire in our room. As we let ourselves in, the first flash of lightning lit up the gardens outside and showed a low, oppressive ceiling of dense, dark gray cloud. Less than a second later, the heavens split and exploded, the lights went out and a second flash illuminated the world with strange jerky, violet light. The flames in the fire wavered and the lights flickered and came back on.

Dehan muttered something foul in Spanish, closed the door and made her way to the bathroom, stripping off her blouse.

We showered and dressed with the storm tearing up the sky outside and claps of thunder threatening to smash down the roof, but there was no rain, only the prickling static of the humid, sultry air, and the trees bending and swaying through the window in the wild wind, caught occasionally in that eerie, stuttering light.

I went from the bathroom back into the bedroom, pulled on my dress pants and my wing-collared shirt and poured myself a whisky. While I was trying to tie my bowtie in the mirror above the fire, I heard Dehan behind me. “If I’m Miss Scarlet, does that make you Colonel Mustard or Reverend Green?”

I turned and told myself silently I must be the luckiest man on Earth. She did a slow turn for me. It was scarlet silk, low cut at the front and insanely low cut at the back. And then there was the slit, all the way up to her hip. She had her hair in a bun and a single pearl at her throat. I raised an eyebrow at her.

“What kind of demon are you?” I said. “I forbid you to wear that outside this bedroom. In fact,” I added, stepping closer, “I forbid you to wear it in this bedroom. Take it off. Immediately…”

She took hold of my bowtie and started to tie it. “Behave,” she said.

“I intend to, very badly…”

The sky ripped open again, diabolical dancing trees springing at us through the leaded panes against the electric blue and inky turmoil of the sky. And then there was the first patter of rain on the glass.

Dehan glanced at the window, then frowned at me. “Listen. Is it the wind…?”

Through the rattles, the moans and the groans, I heard another sound. At first it was like a bark, but then Dehan said, “Shouting,” and walked quickly to the door. She opened it and stepped out. I followed her down the dark corridor to the galleried landing. There, in the hall, was Cameron. He was standing, legs akimbo, pointing savagely in the direction of the study. The study, and whoever was in the doorway, were both out of sight, but the light from the open door was playing on Cameron’s face, and the expression was unmistakable rage. His voice was raised, but he was controlling it, and there didn’t seem to be anybody with him.

“I’ve had enough!” he said. “I’ve had enough of being humiliated by your damned family!

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