Page 49 of Mann Hunt
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked another of Ian’s friends to join us,” Sheldon started.
“Of course,” Declan said.
“Robert,” Sheldon called out. “Robert! The detectives are here.” Sheldon stood and walked back toward the hall, yelling, “Rob—”
“No need to yell. I’m old, but I’m not deaf,” called another voice.
Around the corner from the hall an older man in a wheelchair appeared. He sported a well-fitting grey jacket with matching pants and a powder-blue shirt open at the neck. Unlike Sheldon, it was clear he wasn’t trying to hide his age. His hair was thinning and grey. He wore thick-rimmed glasses and his moustache was unevenly trimmed. He had an air of unkempt nobility.
Declan and Charlie stood. Sheldon waved a hand toward them. “Robert, this is Declan Hunt and his assistant, Charles Watts.”
“Please, call me Charlie,” Charlie added.
“And I’m Robert Williams, Ian’s oldest, and I do mean oldest friend.”
“I’m so pleased that you could join us, Mr Williams,” Declan said.
“Please, call me Robert,” he said, grasping Declan’s hand in both of his. “As we are dealing with such an intimate situation, I feel that we should all be on a first-name basis. Please, no need to stand on my account.”
Everyone sat.
Declan began, “First of all, we want to assure you that everything disclosed today will be held in the strictest of confidence.”
As he spoke, Declan could see Sheldon checking them both out. He had no idea if his sexual preference was for males but he hoped that Sheldon would be attracted to one of them. Sexual desire for an interviewer almost always resulted in an interviewee being more helpful.
Robert had positioned himself next to Charlie, staring longingly at the young man.
Sheldon broke the silence. “Katherine’s a dear friend. I hope I can help, although…I’m sure you can understand that there are some things I may not be at liberty to discuss.”
“Likewise,” Robert added.
“Of course,” Declan said. “Is it all right with you if Charlie takes notes?”
“Please, go ahead,” Sheldon said to Charlie.
Charlie had stuffed his pad and pen into the outer pouch of the camera bag. When he retrieved them, Sheldon became visibly nervous. “May I ask what’s in that case?”
“Just some camera equipment, sir,” Charlie replied. “Nothing is recording. I’ll remove the batteries if that will make you feel more comfortable,” he offered, then did so.
Good boy, Charlie, Declan thought.
“Thank you. I know it may seem a bit paranoid…”
“No. Not at all,” Declan responded.
“It’s important that you feel comfortable,” Charlie added. “You’ve invited us into your home. You should always feel safe here.”
Declan saw Sheldon start to relax. Charlie had worked his wonders.
“Now, if you could tell me about what happened the night of Thursday, the seventh of July.”
The tabby cat returned to the room. It paid no attention to Declan or Charlie, and hopped up on the couch where Sheldon sat. It nuzzled up to him and flopped into his lap. Sheldon began to absentmindedly stroke it.
“There isn’t much to tell,” he began. “Ian arrived a little later than usual.” He addressed his words to the cat, looking at neither Declan nor Charlie.
“Do you remember what time he got here?” Declan asked.
“He usually arrived just after seven. He liked to get here before anyone else. Ian liked to transform, as he called it, before any of the others arrived. He used to say it helped to set the tone for the evening. Our guests all had different tastes. Some dressed simply, some liked to wear next-to-nothing, but Ian always changed into something truly elegant—”
