The Price of Greed

CHAPTER 29

Saturday

Scotty let Keith know he wasn't happy with the work ethic on his case. This was a chance for him to get back into the department's good graces and he was not only showing a lack of skill but he was pouring mud on Scott's reputation as well.

Hood apologized and admitted he was not concentrating as hard as he should, getting another shovel full of advice about spending too much time with a certain suspect.

"She's not a suspect, Scotty. She's an advisor."

"Aye, I'll just bet."

"Screw it. You guys all have one track minds."

"Try that concept, laddie, and start working this case like the cop you are."

Hood sulked at his desk, loathe to begin the tedious task of reading through the crime scene notes, the forensics and the autopsy reports. It was bad enough he had to work weekends as well but homicides didn't respect time off.

The suspect interviews were sorely lacking and he felt a stab of guilt over his lack of concentration in that area. He scanned the material again and then selected the files on Milo French and Charlotte d'Bouvier.

*******

Milo French signed off on his computer and leaned back in the chair watching the screen as it turned to black. He had tried to send an e-mail to Gloria but she wasn't on line, if she ever was, and she wasn't answering her cell phone. He got up and shoved the chair aside and turned on his TV, switching to the morning news channel.

The anchor pair smiled ingratiatingly into the camera as they shared a sentence-by-sentence introduction to the top stories of the day. The murder of Grover Metcalf at the Addison Hotel received about forty seconds of useless information with no progress to report.

A couple of regular guests were asked how they felt about the killing at their favourite hotel and offered such sappy drivel that Milo pounded the remote on the armrest of his sofa until the set went blank.

Gloria was ignoring him because of the divorce business. Fine. He could understand that, but they had a deal and she was not keeping up her end of the financial part. Would she be able to pay or would she wind up with nothing from Enland? Did Enland know what she had done? He brooded over his situation.

The door buzzer startled him and he glanced at the wall clock. Who comes calling at this hour? He looked at his rumpled pyjamas then shrugged and went to the door and opened it, preparing to be angry.

"Mr. French, I'm Detective Hood," he flashed his identification. "I'd like to ask you a few questions if I may."

"About what?"

"Could we do this inside, sir."

Milo backed away and Hood entered his apartment. He noted all the technological equipment, the poorly kept furnishings and through a doorway to his right, a grotty looking kitchen.

"What's this about?" Milo sat back down and frowned at the intrusion.

"What was your relationship with Grover Metcalf, sir?"

"Who? Metcalf? The man that was murdered? Nothing. I didn't have one. I never knew the man." Milo cracked the knuckles of one hand.

"How about Mrs. Gloria Enland... nee Metcalf?"

"Wha- Glor- they were related?" Milo felt like he was balancing on a ball, and not very well. He could feel the dampness under his arms and his fingers began to quiver.

"It's been on the news, Mr. French. Now, what was your relationship, sir?"

Hood saw the result of his instant bombardment of questions and was pleased with his approach.