Page 46 of Hoodoo House
Sinclair paused. “So, where do we go from here?”
Declan said, “Technically, we should turn the computer over to the police, but I think given this conversation, we should hold onto it for a bit longer.”
“And the sex video?” Sinclair asked.
Declan stared him down. “I want to make sure that I’m not erasing something that might be evidence connected to Malcolm Tull’s potential murder. We’re going to do a bit more investigating before we delete that video. You’ll have to give us a little more time. If it turns out that Tull wasn’t murdered, you can have the manuscript and your video.”
Sinclair Yamada stood abruptly. “Why would I have hired you in the first place if I murdered Tull? That simply wouldn’t make any sense.”
Declan nodded. “Sometimes people think they can outsmart the system by being the one to get the ball rolling on the investigation. If you’ve told us the full truth, then you have nothing to worry about. Now, if you don’t mind we have another appointment shortly. We’ll be in touch.”
Declan opened the door and a disgruntled Sinclair Yamada left the office, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter Eighteen
Mrs Cameron sat with a steaming hot coffee in front of her. She usually drank tea in the afternoon, but the boy had gone to all that trouble. He’d made a full pot earlier in the day and she had to admit it was a good cup of coffee. Henry set down a plate of buttered toast in front of her, along with a knife and a jar of her homemade Saskatoon berry jam.
“What’s your game, mister?” she said with a sly grin.
“No game,” he said, plopping a second plate of toast down in front of his seat at the table. “I just thought, since I’m getting older, I should start pulling my weight around here.”
He dropped back into his chair grunting like an old man.
“Don’t grow up too fast. I kinda like having a boy around,” she said, reaching over and patting the back of his hand.
The phone rang. Henry jumped off his seat and quickly picked up the receiver. “Good afternoon. Hoodoo House. Henry Quill speaking… Sure,” he said, holding out the receiver to Mrs Cameron. “It’s for you.”
She looked at him quizzically and made her way to the phone. “Hello. Carol Cameron speaking.”
“Mrs Cameron? Abigail Sweet from Red Deer Retirement Mansion here. Sorry to disrupt your day.”
“What’s she done now?” Mrs Cameron asked.
“The question really should be what has shenotbeen doing?” Abigail replied.
Abigail Sweet never answered a question directly. She was like a bird that circled its prey before landing on it, talons at the ready. Mrs Cameron had had many dust-ups with this woman.
“Florence had a bit of a bad spell this morning. She nearly bit one of her caregivers—”
Do not kick her out. Dear God, do not let them kick her out…
“Then she became her old sweet self again. It’s like someone flicked a switch! She pulled out the photo of the two of you and walked around the place showing it to everyone. I wish I had a sister who cared for me as much as Florence does for you. You are so lucky.”
Get to the point, woman!
“Then, just after lunch…she’s gone completely catatonic.”
“Have you adjusted her medication? You know she doesn’t react well if you do that,” Mrs Cameron scolded.
“Nothing has been changed.”
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to keep your eye on her and see if her condition improves.”
“Mrs Cameron, Red Deer Retirement Mansion is not set up to handle residents in your sister’s present condition.”
I’m surprised you wouldn’t prefer all of them catatonic, rather than biting.
“If she doesn’t improve, I’m afraid we’ll have to transfer her to the Red Deer Regional Hospital, and she’ll lose her spot here.”
