Deadline with Death by Zara Keane

Author:Zara Keane
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9783906245591
Publisher: Beaverstone Press LLC

13

“What was all that about?” Aido demanded when we reached the parking lot. He’d remained blessedly silent on the walk down from St. Colmcille’s ward, which had given me time to mull over my conversation with the mysterious Mr. X.

“Sounds like a title for a novel,” I mused. “This case certainly has all the trappings of a Hollywood thriller.”

“Huh?” Aido stared at me, perplexed.

I stopped beside Mavis and handed him his helmet. “Sorry. I was thinking aloud.”

He took the helmet but didn’t put it on. “Before you get on the bike and have a legit excuse not to talk, please tell me what happened in Room 303.”

“Totally sounds like a book title.” I grinned, but Aido didn’t return my smile.

“I’m serious, Dee. After you refused to tell Bradley what the man said to you, you blew the Chronicle’s chance to get an exclusive in with the detectives. Cian’s going to blow a gasket. Seeing as I’ll be implicated, surely I deserve to know if it was worth it or not.”

I sighed. “Yeah, you do. Come on. Walk with me.”

I led him toward the hospital gardens and the maze my sister and I had loved exploring when we were kids. A series of wooden benches were positioned outside the maze. I nabbed a free one and checked the seat for dampness before sitting. Aido sat beside me, uncharacteristically subdued.

“The guy’s not thinking straight,” I said without preamble. “He accused me of being part of a plot to send him to a lunatic asylum. And then he proceeded to tell me he was from the year 1919.”

This bombshell blasted Aido out of his moody silence. He blinked several times. “Wow. Bro’s got problems.”

“Yeah. I feel bad for him. I hope it’s a temporary aberration. Maybe caused by the shock of the attack. If not…” I trailed off, meeting Aido’s steady gaze, “he has serious mental health issues.”

“Why didn’t you tell Bradley? It’s not like the guy revealed important info about the case, apart from the fact that he’s a bona fide fruitcake.”

“I don’t know.” I stared at the ground, unseeing. “I guess it felt like it would be a betrayal. The man’s not in his right mind, but he’s a victim in all of this. He didn’t shoot Mr. Chuckles, and he didn’t shoot himself. So why throw him to the wolves? He needs professional help, not a police interrogation.”

“Are you sure about that? You said yourself you heard more than you saw, and the Guards have had no luck finding the gunmen. Maybe they’ve had the lone shooter all along.”

“He was carrying a revolver,” I said, “which might not have been genuine. The cartridge I found on the ground came from a pistol.”

“So he had two guns. Easy enough to shoot the clown with one, hide it, and then shoot himself with the other.”

I shook my head. “It all went down too fast for that. Besides, the Guards found no trace of either gun. If they were removed, it wasn’t by Mr.

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