Page 74 of Hoodoo House
“By ‘us’ do you mean the Hoodoo House gang when we meet in the dining room, or ‘us’, as in you and me when we get back up here later?”
“Why do I feel like the latter of those two is going to be far more rewarding?” Declan asked.
“Well, you’ll have to wait to see. I don’t want to say anything to you until I confirm a few things. It’s important I get this right.”
“From the devilish grin on your face, I will look forward to both.”
“Good,” Charlie replied. “Now why don’t you go tend to your wounds and leave me alone for a bit while I review my notes.”
Declan leaned down and planted a kiss on Charlie’s lips, then went into the bathroom.
Charlie spent the next half hour reading his notes and reviewing the photos he had taken on his phone. At just before nine, he called out, “We should get heading down.”
They made their way to the dining room and found that a few of the tables had been pushed together to make one larger table. Sinclair, Mrs Cameron and Henry were already there.
A waiter approached. He was William again.
“Good evening, folks. The kitchen is closed, but would you care for any water or drinks while you’re having your meeting?”
“I think with the day we’ve had, a drink would be in order,” Sinclair said. “And we’ll bill everything to the publisher while we still can. I’ll have a double scotch.”
“Make that two,” Declan said.
“I’ll have what they’re having,” Henry said.
Mrs Cameron intervened. “Make Henry’s scotch a warm milk, if you wouldn’t mind. And I’ll have a sherry.”
Charlie ordered a beer.
Once William had dropped off the drinks, Charlie took a sip from his bottle then began. “A lot’s happened over the past twenty-four hours and I think it’s important that you have all of the details of this case before anyone takes any drastic actions”—he looked at Henry—“like reporting themselves to the police. I have a few questions I’d like to ask.
“Sinclair, I’ll start with you. Do you remember the argument you had with Malcolm Tull the night before he died?”
“I do,” Sinclair replied, then took a long sip of his drink.
“Do you remember if Mr Tull had been drinking when you last met?”
“Yes. He wasn’t falling down drunk, but he was slurring his words a bit.”
“Can you remember anything else about him? Anything physical that was…out of the ordinary?”
Sinclair paused. “He seemed red in the face and in the neck. Sort of…puffy,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
“Did you see any bruising on his neck? Because I recall when we first met, you said the police had noted bruises when they found the body.”
“I can’t remember precisely, but it is possible. I’d heard through the grapevine,” Sinclair continued, “that Malcolm sometimes got involved in rough play with his…friends.”
“Do you think the rumours are true?” Charlie asked.
Sinclair stared into Charlie’s eyes. “I can guarantee it.”
Charlie nodded. “Just one more thing. Do you remember if Mr Tull had any tattoos?”
Sinclair paused before saying, “Why would you ask me?”
“You worked closely with him. I just thought you might notice if he had a tattoo, perhaps on his arm?”
Sinclair squirmed in his seat. “He did have a spider tattoo. I believe it was on his left forearm, but he usually kept it covered with a long-sleeved shirt. But I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
