Blood Always Tells by Hilary Davidson (top 10 novels .TXT) 📕

You did go to Lighthouse Park, but you stopped at Tom Klepper’s apartment afterward, because you knew he’d set you up. That repulsive toad tried to deceive you, and you were smart enough to realize it. So you went to his apartment in the dead of night and strangled him.”

“I went to his place the next day,” Desmond said. “What are the odds I’d do that if I’d killed him?”

“Pretty good, actually,” Amberson said. “In this day and age, we’re inundated with information about crime. Everyone knows that killers often like to go back to the scene of the crime. They like to help with police investigations, too, you know.”

“The cops won’t buy it.”

“I think they will, especially because of what you did next.”

“I can hardly wait to hear this,” Desmond said.

“Obviously you murdered Trinity Lytton-Jones.”

“Now you sound like a nutcase.”

“No, Mr. Edgars, you’re the obsessive stalker who was certain poor Trinity was involved as well. No one would have trouble believing that. Some people may even sympathize with your antipathy toward Miss Lytton-Jones, given her vile statements about your sister. This is, after all, a woman who made corpses into diamonds. If you knew what I’ve had to deal with over the years with that vile little creature, I think you’d actually feel pity for me.”

“I already feel sorry for you, but that’s because the story you’re spinning is pathetic. Your henchman with the gun over here, he’s the one who killed her. No one is going to have any trouble figuring that out, least of all the police.”

“On the contrary, the police are going to have a very different picture of you when they examine your hotel room later on,” Amberson said. “That’s when they’ll find your stash of cocaine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My henchman, as you called him, will plant several samples, both pure and tainted. Don’t worry, Val won’t leave any prints. He’s very careful that way, albeit clumsy in others. We’ll make it clear that you were involved in Trinity’s death. I believe in thoroughness.”

“Everyone who knows me knows I don’t do drugs.”

“But you have that record trailing after you, from your wild, errant youth.” Amberson’s voice had a lulling quality to it, as if he were relating a fairy tale. “Once you earn the notice of the police that way, there’s always a cloud of suspicion over you. Look at poor Val here. When he was young, he couldn’t keep out of trouble.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Val said. That was the first time Polly heard her brother speak up in this entire exchange.

“Come on, Val,” Amberson said. “When I let you work here for a summer, you stole from me.”

“You shouldn’t have left bundles of cash around.” Val’s voice was low.

“Blaming the victim,” Amberson said, with a dramatic sigh. “But I realized, troubled though he was, this boy had certain intriguing talents, and I could make use of them. Of course, there was rather a lot of training involved.”

“Let me guess.” That was Desmond’s voice again. “You trained him to kill for you.”

Amberson chuckled. “Val was already a killer. I had nothing to do with that.”

“When I turn up with bullet holes in me, the cops are going to smell a rat. And you’re the biggest rodent in this story, Amberson.”

“We won’t shoot you unless we have to, Mr. Edgars. There are other ways for you to die. I’d hate to have to clean blood out of that rug you’re standing on. It’s a Persian antique and it cost me a hundred thousand dollars.”

“I had a feeling about that,” Desmond said.

“About what?”

“You and your expensive tastes. You’ve had a series of showgirl wives. That must’ve cost you a bundle.”

Amberson cleared his throat. “Aside from my wives, I like to be subtle, you understand. I don’t approve of showy deaths that scream ‘murder.’ I refuse to use guns for that reason. They’re the fail-safe if nothing else works. You see, I like quiet, accidental deaths. Misfortunes. Misadventures. Like the carbon monoxide poisoning I arranged for your sister and Gary. For the record, I had nothing to do with Tom Klepper’s death, or with the attack on you in the street. That was all Val’s initiative, which was why the execution was so clumsy and ham-fisted.”

“Thanks for confirming my theory,” Desmond said.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Max is dead. There’s somebody who wants his mother and his sister to believe he’s alive, which is why they get cards and presents in the mail, but Max has been dead for some time. You and Val planted evidence in the house to confuse the investigation.”

“Ah, Mr. Edgars. You’re not as clever as you thought,” Amberson said.

“I know Max Brantov isn’t just an alias Val made up. And I’m certain he’s dead.”

“Oh, no, you misunderstand me,” Amberson answered. “I meant that no one planted evidence about Max in the house. That was a terrible mistake on Val’s part. You see, Max Brantov was a very intelligent young man with a promising future. Of course, he’s been dead for several years. But Val could tell you far more about that than I could. Val’s the one who murdered him.”

Chapter 56

Polly didn’t realize it, but a scream escaped from her throat.

Amberson came to the doorway, staring at her. His eyes were bright blue, and they regarded her curiously. “Excuse me, my dear, but what are you doing here?” He turned his face to one side. “I believe your little sister has found her way into my office, Val.”

“Polly?” Val came into view. “You are not supposed to be here. Get out.”

“What happened to your eye, my dear?” Amberson frowned at Polly. “Did someone hit you?”

Polly ignored that. “What did you say about Max?” she wailed.

Amberson gazed at her in obvious wonder, before his eyes slithered over to meet Val’s. “Your sister has no idea what happened? How on earth did you manage that all these years?”

“Did you ever tell the Lytton-Jones family that you lost literally a billion dollars of their money