Mad About the Boy? by Dolores Gordon-Smith Read Free Book Online

Major-General Flint is infallible?’
    â€˜He should know what he’s talking about.’ Stanton wriggled in irritation. ‘After all, Jack, he must have seen dozens of suicides.’
    Haldean raised his eyebrows. ‘Dozens? I doubt it.’
    â€˜All right, perhaps not dozens, then,’ agreed Stanton, ‘but he’ll have seen enough.’ He paused, choosing his words with obvious tact. ‘Look, old man, be honest with yourself. Are you sure you’re not thinking of murder because of the sort of stories you write? I mean, they’re all about murders and so on, aren’t they? You know you love inventing mysteries.’
    Haldean acknowledged Stanton’s point with a rueful smile. ‘I might be. I thought as much myself, but I think we owe it to Tim to investigate it as best we can.’
    â€˜I think we owe it to Tim to not monkey around.’ He looked very uncomfortable. ‘Drop it, Jack. It’s . . . It’s . . . Well, it’s in pretty poor taste.’
    Haldean was about to answer when the door opened and Smith-Fennimore came into the room. He looked surprised to see them.
    â€˜I heard voices. What are you doing in here? Come to that, how did you get in? I thought this room had been locked up.’
    â€˜It had, but my key fitted the lock,’ said Haldean with a smile. ‘All the locks here are pretty feeble.’ He took a deep breath. ‘We’re trying to see if we can find anything out of the way. I know this may sound odd, Fennimore, but I find it damn nearly impossible to believe that Tim killed himself.’
    â€˜What else could have happened?’
    Stanton’s response had warned Haldean that what seemed so likely to him was far from obvious to anyone else. Besides that, it was one thing talking it over with Arthur, it was quite another bringing it up with Smith-Fennimore. He had been knocked sideways last night and the last thing Haldean wanted to do was make it worse for him. When he spoke his voice was quiet. ‘He could have been murdered.’
    Smith-Fennimore’s shoulders stiffened and he raised his head. The warning in his eyes made Haldean step back. ‘Are you playing around with this? Because if you are, Haldean, I’m telling you to stop it now. I’m damned if you’re going to use Tim’s death as some sort of entertainment. Writing fiction is one thing. This is real.’
    â€˜I know it’s real.’ Haldean’s voice was still quiet. ‘I cared about Tim, too.’
    His sincerity carried weight. Smith-Fennimore’s shoulders relaxed and the anger in his eyes gave way to bewilderment. ‘But you can’t mean it, man. You just can’t. What do you know – what can you know? – that the police and the doctor don’t?’
    â€˜I knew Tim.’
    Smith-Fennimore stared at him. ‘Yes?’
    â€˜Well, think,’ said Haldean impatiently. ‘Think for yourself. You spoke to Tim last night. We all did. What would you say his mood was?’
    â€˜His mood? He must have been feeling awful.’
    â€˜Forget what happened. I mean from what you saw with your own eyes, how would you describe his mood?’
    Smith-Fennimore started to speak then stopped and frowned in concentration. ‘The trouble was I didn’t see much of Tim,’ he said eventually. ‘To be honest, he seemed okay. He was pretty down in the mouth a couple of weeks ago, but he was fine the next time I saw him.’ Stanton moved as if he was about to speak, then motioned for Smith-Fennimore to carry on. ‘As far as last night goes,’ continued Smith-Fennimore with a look at Stanton, ‘he was a bit cheesed off about all the running around he was doing for Lyvenden, but apart from that he was all right.’ He pulled a face. ‘He’d been dancing with Bubble Robiceux and we talked about which car we were going to use for the Isle of Man. He was excited