Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #3: Books 9-12 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (read with me .TXT) 📕

absolutely anything for him. I still would, even today.” She heaved another big sigh. “I am a one-man woman, Carmen, much like you, I suspect. But where you hit the jackpot, I got the booby prize.”

“So he was with you when he married Pam…”

“I came shortly after.”

“Why did he marry her? If he wasn’t in love with her…” She shrugged and shook her head.

“I’ve often wondered. He wanted somehow to cock a snook at his father, I suppose.”

Dehan shook her head. “No. That doesn’t make sense. His father was already dead when he married her.”

Bee stared at Dehan a moment and then tapped her head. “Not up here, he wasn’t. Charles Sr. and Pam have more in common than you might imagine. Neither of them is capable of letting go. Charles was a rebel, an anarchist, and he wanted more than anything else in the world to be rid and free of his father. He detested his father with a passion. And yet, he never walked away, never sold the castle or the island. Instead he stayed here. Why?”

Dehan spread her hands and shrugged. Bee smiled and went on.

“Here you have a handsome, intelligent, talented, Harvard educated lawyer. And what does he do when he graduates? He comes to Gordon’s Swona and marries the publican’s daughter.

“Now, you have the publican’s daughter: she is lively, bright, capable, she hates Gordon’s Swona and her great dream is to get away. She marries a man who is a multimillionaire several times over and within a year he has already given her ample cause for divorce. She could leave him and walk away with her independence and a small fortune. Does she?” She shook her head. “No, she stays with him for nearly forty years, on Gordon’s Swona. I am no psychologist, Carmen, but I think they both have a character flaw. They are weak, what they might call today addictive personalities. But more than that…” She gazed away again, toward the French windows. A cloud passed in front of the sun and for a moment it grew dark. “I don’t think Charles knows who he is without his hatred for his father.” She looked back at Dehan. “Once he was free of him, he didn’t know what to do. It was as though his fight against his father had defined him somehow, and without it he didn’t know what to do, or who to be. So he continued that fight, even after he had won, and he married Pam simply to dishonor his father’s memory. He certainly didn’t love her.”

Dehan frowned. “And you think she got some kind of Stockholm syndrome.”

“Something like that. Young Charles was born nine months after they were married. He was a lovely, bright, happy baby. She stayed at first because she hoped that the baby would bring them together. It had the opposite effect. He ignored them both and started having affairs, and flaunting those affairs in front of Pam. She became depressed, obviously, threatened to leave him, but somehow lacked the strength. He had alienated all her family and she had nobody to turn to. One month became six, became a year, became ten… Now she can’t imagine herself without him.”

“And you?”

Bee laughed. “Oh, I certainly can’t imagine myself without the old goat. I don’t even want to. His affairs don’t bother me. He was never a very good lover anyway, far too self absorbed. I just need to be near him, bask in his badness. He is such a naughty man.”

Dehan was quiet for a long while, watching Bee. Bee avoided her eye, squinting out at the trees in the hedgerow that were now beginning to toss and bow. Overhead the swallows swooped and skimmed, snatching their tiny prey from the air. Finally Bee said, “I know what you are thinking, Carmen.”

“What am I thinking?”

“You’re wondering if I slept with the old man.”

“And did you?”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, then she said, “Well, of course I did. Old Man Gordon was a monster, but he was twice the man his son is.” She gave Dehan a mischievous smile. “And a much better lover.”

Dehan smiled. “And I’m naughty…”

“Darling, you should have known him. He was so intense!”

“So who else did he sleep with?”

“Believe me,” she laughed. “There was no sleeping involved.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I think he made a point of shagging every girl his son was with…”

“Even his fiancée.”

“Especially his fiancée. Both of them.”

Dehan sighed. “What a family.”

“Dysfunctional, toxic… all those words pseudo psychologists and social workers love to trot out these days. He was a very bad man, driven by intense passions, appetites and desires. But he was alive, and when you were with him, dear me! He made you feel alive!”

Dehan chewed her lip for a moment, looking up at the sky. “Well, you certainly had all the ingredients necessary for a murder.”

Bee studied her for a moment. “Yes, yes, there was that.”

“I’m just surprised there hasn’t been another one in the last thirty years.”

“So far,” said Bee, holding her hat with both hands as the wind gusted and the air turned suddenly dark. “We’ve all wanted him alive, until now.” She stood and staggered as another gust caught her. “Darling, the storm is here, let’s go inside and have some tea!”

They went inside, closed and secured the French windows, and the mounting gale became a muted bluster. Brown was there setting out the plates, cups and saucers. He was alone but for the red-haired maid, who was lighting the fire in the huge fireplace. Bee flopped onto the sofa, removed her hat and started arranging her hair. “Brown, will Mr. Gordon Sr. be joining us?”

“I believe he will, m’lady.”

“And where are all the men?” She gave Dehan a smile.

“I’m afraid I