THEY’D PARKED further down Parnassus Drive because Sholto didn’t feel the Fiat was worthy of a spot in the Kotkell family driveway. From the street they could see a large garage on the opposite side of the driveway to the house, the sort of building that could hold at least three cars, and it was a fair guess the Fiat didn’t belong among the company it would keep there. Not that it belonged out on the street either, mind you. Parnassus Drive is about the richest of the rich streets up in the north of Barton.
Sholto tried to comb what was left of his hair in the rearview mirror with his fingers, wanting to look presentable. He said to Darian, “I hope they don’t have a dog. I get nervous around dogs and rich people.”
They walked up the long drive, admiring the manicured front garden. Sholto took a guess at the gardening bill and puffed out his cheeks. He couldn’t wrap his head around the money on casual display. He said, “Imagine having the money to stay here and then choosing to stay here. Give me enough dosh to buy a house round here and I’d be off somewhere sunny.”
Darian pressed the doorbell and a dog started barking and a rich person opened the door. Leala Kotkell looked down on the two men her husband had hired and sighed, her small features crumpling into a frown. She said, “What do you want?”
Darian took the lead, saying, “We’d like to speak with your son, please, Mrs. Kotkell.”
“My husband’s not home.”
“That’s quite all right; it’s just your son we need a chat with. He’s in, I take it.”
She didn’t like being spoken to that way, and there was a moment when it looked like she was going to turn them away. Instead she opened the door for them. She led them through to what was presumably a study, a desk and two leather couches, no TV, bookcases against three walls and a large bay window looking out across the front garden. Leala Kotkell went to fetch her son, but not without a backward glance to show how reluctant she was to leave these two chancers alone with the valuables.
When she was gone Sholto, standing at the window, said, “A cop’s salary was probably the best I could do with my life, but you’re smart enough to have stuff like this if you’d picked a better career than working with me.”
“Aye, well, I think I’d rather have the one-bedroom flat and a proper job.”
“Mm, maybe you aren’t as smart as I thought.”
Uisdean Kotkell walked into the room by himself, still sporting a few fetching cuts and bruises that added a dash of purple to his boyish face. Darian and Sholto had both seen much worse injuries plenty of times before on people who insisted they were no big deal.
Darian said, “Uisdean, how are you?”
“I’m okay, fine. I’ll be fine.”
He sat on the couch opposite them and Darian and Sholto shared a quick look. Darian said, “Have you thought of any other details about what happened to you? Is there anything else you can tell us about the attack?”
“Uh, no, nothing. I told you everything I can remember at the hospital.”
He seemed nervous, a young man trying to be polite but worried his good manners would invite more questions and prolong the ordeal.
Darian nodded and said, “So you haven’t thought of a reason why someone might want to attack you?”
“No.”
“One of the people we talked to in the course of our investigation was Dillan Howard. We suspected him for a while, but I don’t think he did it, but I did wonder if maybe someone attacked you because of your relationship with him.”
“I don’t have a relationship with him.”
“Friendship, then.”
“We just hung around a bit, went to the same clubs, that’s all. I don’t see what that has to do with this.”
“He’s a bit of a lad, Dillan, from what we’ve heard. Maybe someone thought they could rattle him a little by rattling the hell out of you.”
“That’s nuts, he has loads of people closer to him than me.”
“Someone was waiting for you, Uisdean, watching out for you. I don’t think this was random and I think you know why it wasn’t.”
“No.”
The door to the study opened and Leala Kotkell walked in and sat next to her son. Darian looked at Sholto and gave him the nod to take over. He was fresh out of questions and figured it was probably time to say a polite goodbye and leave this waste of time behind.
Sholto said, “What we’ll probably try to do next is go public, get the word out about what happened and see if someone who was outside the club that night will come forward. It’ll mean a lot of people finding out about it all, but that’s what it takes sometimes.”
Sholto looked at Uisdean and Uisdean looked back, silent. Sholto’s expression suggested he didn’t like trying to lean this hard on the kid, but it was one of the few remaining ways of tempting the truth out of him. It had no effect.
Uisdean said, “Good luck. If you’ll excuse me, I have a headache.”
Uisdean got up and walked out of the room. His mother stood and looked at the two of them with hatred and said, “Now that you’ve made my son ill perhaps you’ll consider your work here done and leave.”
Sholto said as he got up, “Sorry, Mrs. Kotkell, we certainly didn’t want to make the boy sick, we just want to try to resolve this as quickly as possible, for his own sake. I don’t blame him for having headaches, though, it can be very traumatizing, getting beaten up and then having to go over it again afterward so carefully, so many times.”
If her mood softened at the sound of an apology it was imperceptible. She led them out of the study and to the front door.