The Christie Caper - Carolyn Hart [121]
“Fucking murderer.” His voice rasped like metal against stone. “One of you is a fucking murderer—you killed Kathryn.” A spasm of pain twisted his truculent face. He stopped, head down for a long moment, then looked up, his eyes again moving accusingly from person to person. “Tried to kill me. When I know who it is—” The threat hung in the air, glinted in his malevolent eyes.
“Mr. Bledsoe,” Posey intervened pompously, “the law will see that justice is done.”
Bledsoe’s spiteful eyes touched briefly on Posey. “When I know—”
Posey’s hand swept the room. “Here they are, Mr. Bledsoe, each and every one of our suspects. Who hates you, and why?”
Bledsoe used both hands now to brace himself against the chair in front of him. He was breathing heavily. As his chest rose, his shirt pulled taut against the bulky bandage. Annie marveled at the man’s enormous control. Obviously, he should be in the hospital. Obviously, he would never give in to pain. She felt a grudging admiration, even though he was a man who more truly than most was reaping what he had sown.
“Could it be you, Nathan?” Bledsoe jeered. “I don’t think so. No guts. You never had any guts. Crazy about Pamela, but too gutless to do anything about it. I can tell you one thing, you didn’t miss much. She had about as much spirit as a wet rag. That’s what going to bed with her was like—”
“Stop it, goddam you!”
Hillman was on his feet. His face stripped of every defense, pain and anguish and heartbreak plain to see, Hillman turned maddened eyes to Posey. “You’ve got to stop this. I don’t have to listen to—”
“Sit down, Mr. Hillman,” Posey ordered, “unless you want to go to jail for obstructing an investigation.”
“Go to hell,” the editor said shakily. “I’d rather go to jail,” and he started up the aisle toward the exit.
The deputy at the door glanced questioningly at Posey, who slowly shook his head.
“Maybe a few guts.” There was almost a tone of admiration in Bledsoe’s voice. “Maybe we can’t scratch Nate boy yet.”
“We can scratch this entire unsavory and disgusting episode!” Emma rose swiftly, with surprising agility for a woman of her bulk. “Come on, Fleur. We’re leaving.”
Fleur stood, too, and the two writers started toward the aisle.
“Now you two just wait—”
Emma swung on him venomously. “Be careful, Posey. Be very, very careful.”
As the two women continued up the aisle toward the exit, Bledsoe’s goading voice followed implacably. “Emma’s got spirit, all right. Emma’s a dark horse. Made her mad when I said Marigold Rembrandt was just a tired retread of Miss Marple. As for Fleur, she didn’t like it when I screwed her daughter.” His hateful voice boomed off the walls. Annie shuddered. Never had she been in a room that contained so much emotion, so much evil. “Her great big horse of a daughter. But Jaime liked the hell out of it.”
The door closed on his poisonous insinuations. Emma and Fleur were gone. Bledsoe’s mouth thinned, and hard white patches at the corners told of pain. Then, abruptly, the door burst open and a deputy shoved Derek inside. “Found him in the bar, sir. Tried to resist. Arrested him for drunk and disorderly conduct.”
Derek swayed unsteadily.
Natalie jumped up. “Derek, are you all right?”
Derek obviously was far from all right. His eyes were glassy, his face was slack.
Bledsoe lifted an arm in mock greeting. “Oh, the screw-up’s pride and joy, that wonderful little mama’s boy, Pamela’s good son, Derek.”
Annie struggled to shut out the ugly words. But worse than the words was Bledsoe’s vicious pleasure in the pain they inflicted. She could see it in the tiny satisfied curl of his lips, in the hot glitter of his eyes. He was having himself a hell of a time.
Natalie reached out for Derek’s arm. The young man shrugged her away, shook loose from the deputy. “I can walk,” he said with sodden dignity. The publicist started down the aisle toward the podium one lurching footfall after another. His drunken eyes never left Bledsoe’s face. “I swore I would kill you, Neil. I swore it the day Mother died.” His mouth trembled, tears began to spill