The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse: Books 4-6 (The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse Box Sets Book 2) by Nic Saint

Author:Nic Saint [Saint, Nic]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Puss in Print Publications
Published: 2016-07-15T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 28

Virgil pointed his gun this way and that as they mounted the stairs with nimble tread, then proceeded stealthily along the corridor until they were standing outside Brian Rutherford’s room. The chief had checked the register and quickly found Rutherford’s name on the list. He now made some weird hand gestures that Virgil knew he should probably remember from police academy but unfortunately didn’t.

Finally, rightly interpreting Virgil’s cow-like stare as a sign of ignorance, the chief hissed, “I’m going to knock once—be ready. If he doesn’t respond, I’m breaking down this door and you head on inside.”

Virgil nodded his agreement. He would have spoken, but his mouth was now so dry his tongue was glued to his palate. He held up the gun but found it shaking so violently he was afraid to shoot an innocent bystander. It wasn’t enough they were in a ghost hotel, but now they were barging into the room of a self-proclaimed ghost team leader. He could just imagine how annoyed the fellow would be.

The chief rapped the door. “Brian Rutherford? Happy Bays Police!”

There was no response, and as promised the chief placed his size fourteen boot against the door, and pushed. The door creaked in protest, then broke down, and Virgil stormed inside, gun out, and quickly scanned the room for a sign of the perp. To his great relief, the man was not in attendance. “All clear, chief!” he cried. “All clear!”

But then a whistle sounded from the bathroom, and a naked Brian, only clad in a champagne pink Happy Bays Inn towel, strode into the room. The merry tune froze on his lips. He seemed surprised to see two police officers, one stocky, one gangly, staring back at him. “Hello, hello, hello,” he said. “What the hickory doodles is going on here?”

“Brian Rutherford?” the chief growled.

“Yup. That’s me,” Rutherford said, now white around the nostrils.

“You’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Alice Whitehouse and Felicity Bell,” the chief said. Quite prematurely, Virgil thought, as they hadn’t yet ascertained whether the man was a suspect or not. But then that was the chief for you: he sometimes liked to go off half-cocked.

“Could-could you please lower your weapon?” Rutherford asked, pointing to the chief’s gun.

The chief grumbled, but complied, holstering his piece.

Then, suddenly and quite unfortunately, the towel that was protecting Rutherford’s modesty began to unravel, and he quickly moved to stop it from falling to the floor and putting him in an awkward position. Or at least more awkward than his position already was.

Virgil, mistaking the movement for a man going for his gun, didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger and fired off three rounds at the young man. It was a reflex action, and he didn’t know what he was doing until it was done. He just knew that sometimes you have to shoot first and ask questions later, especially when faced with a dangerous lawyer.

Three bullets zoomed through the air in the direction of Brian Rutherford, while Chief Whitehouse yelled, “Virgil, Noooooo!”

But alas, it was too late.

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