Something in the Blood (A Honey Driver Murder Mystery) by Goodhind Jean G

Author:Goodhind, Jean G [Goodhind, Jean G]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Accent Press
Published: 2013-02-27T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-one

Andrew Charlborough couldn’t help chuckling at the woman’s reaction to one of the many props they used in their war games.

Longleat had its wild beasts and extensive grounds in which to keep them. Most of the estate surrounding Charlborough Grange had been sold off years ago. War games complete with a pretend jungle and pretend bodies provided a decent income, besides which, he enjoyed them. It took him back to other times and other places. He’d explained all this to Hannah Driver. He’d seen her recover, seen her blush and then seen her off the premises.

Amateur sleuths were the least of his worries. His features hardened as he watched her car pull away. Once it had gone, he went back along the corridor to the study. From his pocket he took a neatly folded cotton handkerchief, the initials LTC embroidered in dark red at its corner. Gently he wiped the handkerchief over Lance’s photograph before straightening it. He fingered its frame.

‘I miss you, Lance,’ he said his voice trembling with emotion.

Suddenly he became aware that he was no longer alone.

‘You’re an obsessive! Do you know that?’

Pamela’s strident voice pierced through his sorrow and his skull. She sashayed toward him, hips rolling, blonde hair clipped tightly around her pronounced cheekbones.

Anger flushed his face. ‘Get out of here!’

She dragged fiercely on the cigarette she was smoking.

‘It’s your own fault he stays away from here, you know. You’re too overbearing. The boy wants to lead his own life. And why shouldn’t he? What’s it to you, darling? Eh? If you really, really think about it, what’s it to you?’

Her husband’s eyes followed her as she walked around the room purposely tapping the corner of each framed photograph so it no longer hung straight.

She laughed as she did it.

‘You don’t answer!’ she said. ‘I’ve heard how you talk to him, insisting that he tow the line, or else … and the dear boy … he so loves his father … his father!’

She laughed like a gurgling drain.

If eyes could be knives, Sir Andrew’s would have stabbed her twice.

She came closer and deliberately blew smoke into his face, then rested her hand on his chest. ‘What if he knew the truth? I wonder how much he would love you then? Because I know you know. I met Mary’s brother-in-law. He told me what you did. Now,’ she said, a red-painted fingernail tapping the matching colour on her lips. ‘Perhaps I should tell the police about this before I tell Lance. Or should I phone that woman and tell her?’ Her expression hardened. ‘What’s it worth not to tell either of them, Andrew? Eh? Fifty thousand? One hundred thousand?’ She shook her head. ‘Chicken feed. And this chicken deserves more than that, I think.’

Andrew clenched his jaw as he gazed down into his wife’s face.

‘Marriage to you has been torture, Pamela.’

Her eyes opened wide with feigned surprise. ‘What else did you expect? I didn’t marry you because I loved you. It was all for money. For your beautiful, beautiful money! What else! And when we divorce, I’ll take half of it with me.

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