Untrue Blue by Emma Jameson

Author:Emma Jameson [Jameson, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lyonnesse Books

“Your Mercedes is parked just on the other side of that hill,” Ken Hussy announced unnecessarily, scurrying in an undignified fashion to get in front of Tony and Paul so as to lead them away from Parth. “Follow me.”

Tony glanced back. Parth lingered under the big umbrella, peeking beneath his shades to read something on his smartphone. Maybe the act of rising had only been a power play, an excuse for him to end the interview by literally looking down on his guests. As if to confirm Tony’s suspicion, Parth dropped back into his chair, belted robe straining across his midsection, and began swiping on his mobile.

“Lord Hetheridge, DI Bhar, it’s been a pleasure,” Ken said as they crested the hill. Away from his boss’s bad temper, he was upbeat and friendly, putting out positive vibes the way Chernobyl put out ionizing radiation. “I do hope if you have occasion to return to Highgate House, it will be—” He broke off. “Antonio? Is everything all right?”

Parth Chakrabarti’s twenty-seven-year-old son was ambling from the house to the multi-story garage, dragging a wheeled suitcase behind him. “Fine, Ken. Just fine.”

“That’s good. May I ask, erm—where are you going?”

“Didn’t my father tell you to get rid of me?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, he said something about needing time alone. But that was two minutes ago. How did you...?”

Tony and Paul swapped glances. The greenest detectives on earth wouldn’t get into their car and drive away from this. When Antonio regarded them with some interest, Tony nodded pleasantly at the young man.

“His rages are cyclical, Ken. It’s time for another one. I can feel it, and I’m getting out before the storm hits.” Antonio resembled Parth in many ways—height, broad shoulders, the kind of heavy musculature that can easily run to fat. But while his facial features were bold, they weren’t exaggerated to the point of ugliness. He possessed that gently jaded aura belonging to children of the very rich: he’d been there, done that, got the t-shirt, donated the t-shirt to charity, and now found the memory faintly embarrassing.

“No offense,” Antonio went on, smiling at Tony and Paul, “but the presence of you lot speeds up his natural rage timetable. I won’t say you triggered him—he’s raged all my life. But Scotland Yard is definitely an accelerant.”

“Yes, well, the detectives are just leaving.” Ken turned and seemed dismayed to find Tony merely standing there, with the SUV still dormant and no keys in hand. “You are on your way to another appointment, are you not?”

“We are,” Tony said equitably. “Mr. Chakrabarti, it’s good to meet you. I’m Tony Hetheridge. Retired chief superintendent, now consulting with the Yard on your sister’s case. Would you have a moment to chat with us?”

“I don’t think—” Ken began.

“You work for the other Mr. Chakrabarti, mate, not me,” Antonio said.

“Yes, but while you’re on the premises, it behooves me to—”

Antonio giggled. It was very high-pitched, incongruous with his solid physique. “Behooves? Ken, love, you’re embarrassing yourself. Daddy can’t hear you, he’s down at the scene of the crime, doing what he does best.

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