Here comes Chapter 15 then folks…
Rebel8954, So does that mean Henry is off your suspects list then? Hopefully this chapter will give you a little more insight into his character. Or does it?
xXBalorBabexX, Well, the good news (or the bad news?) is that we might get more of a clue about Henry in this instalment.
Mandy, Thanks for your thoughts. Got some bad news about mum's cancer this week, but hopefully there's still something the doctors can do. Glad you're still liking the story. I do love writing the banter between Dean and Roman. Just wish we could get some more of the good times between them in real life!
Wolfgirl2013, Aww, I'm so glad you like it.
Cheryl24, And there's still a ways to go on this roller coaster mystery ride!
Skovko, Ah, so you're not so keen to blame Henry then? Well, see what you think after this chapter. This might swing your vote harder towards 'innocent' or the other way completely…
ViolentHugger03, I see these chapters as more like scenes from a murder mystery programme: short and sweet! Glad you're loving it though. I'm really enjoying watching you guys see it unfold though!
Minnie1015, Haha, well, some people are sort of not too far away, but no one has developed the full theory yet (thank goodness!) Also, I'm going to give you all another insight into Henry here, so you can either add him or cross him off the list of suspects!
LunaticMischief, Hope your exams all went well, I'll keep fingers and toes crossed for you. Glad you're enjoying my crazy little story and never fear, I will definitely try to make it better and better!
Phoenix lord of rebirth, Nothing like a good head scratcher on a cold winter night though, huh? (Asks desperately). Got a few more mysteries and twists coming up before the end, but hopefully they'll be good ones!
Once more unto the breach…
FIFTEEN
They use Roman's handkerchief to wrap up the sketch book, then take it away with them in spite of Lewis Hughes complaints, since it seems like the closest damn thing they have to evidence and since Hurley himself seems to have magically disappeared. Which means that the idiot now known as freaking Gunhawk is their number one suspect.
"So okay, here's the deal," Dean grunts, the sketchbook tucked under his elbow as he climbs the rickety but solid steps of his brownstone home, "Henry Hurley befriends his mom's roommate an' gets her to pose as Ella for our meeting in the park. Then stages the hangin' to get her back for the whole will deal."
"And from the looks of that sketchbook, then goes after his old man," Roman adds from a half step behind him, before stopping as Sunny comes out of her room and then leans herself super seductively in the doorway,
"Hey fellers, you look bushed, need a little pick me up? Free of charge."
"No thanks Sunny," Dean grins at her, as behind him Roman turns a shade of beetroot red, since one week of being propositioned by a hooker isn't nearly enough time to have gotten used to it yet, "We're kinda busy right now. But hey, maybe later."
He's kidding though and she knows it.
Probably.
"Sure thing Dean," she winks, "Oh and by the way, a guy came in asking for you. I sent him up to your office."
"What did he look like?" Dean stops, because in between trying to track down a freaking murderer and being beaten up, he's feeling slightly on edge. Roman knocks into his back and then grumbles as Sunny shrugs,
"I dunno. Short hair, kinda smart, looks like he's probably got a whole lot of money. Seemed to know who you were."
"Christopher Hurley," Roman groans, "Probably trying to find where his two grand has got him."
"Either that or he's come by to try an' get it back," Dean snorts wryly, rubbing a hand across his neck line, "Maybe to put it behind the bar for the big funeral."
"Maybe babe."
They know that the funeral is being held the next morning because the papers have been screaming it as the headline all day long, with candids of the billionaire widow busy shopping for coffins and picking out flowers and generally looking sad. According to The Herald Ella is being interred in Spring Grove cemetery, where multiple Hurley's have been laid to rest, even though she isn't a Hurley and her son may have killed her. Or her husband. Or both.
Dean rolls his eyes,
"Think we should mention the notebook?"
Roman winces,
"How 'bout we see what he wants, then make a judgement call about that one?"
Dean nods,
"Right. Uh, yeah. Good idea."
"Sunny," Roman grins at her, "Always a pleasure."
"Maybe one day it will be," she winks in response, before sauntering back into her office with a hip swing and a flash of her underwear.
"You know what I think she kinda likes you," Dean beams, as the red faced Samoan gives him a shove up the staircase and then shrugs off his shyness,
"Hey, I'm a lovable kind of guy."
Rounding the corner clamping hard to the sketchbook as he fishes around in his pocket for his keys, Dean expects to come face to face with Mr Hurley. Which he does, except it's not the Mr Hurley he expects, since instead the guy who scrambles up from the floor to greet them is much younger and chunkier and kind of familiar.
"Holy shit," juggling the sketch pad and his keys, he grabs the photo and then blinks at the newcomer.
The murderer has come to them.
"Henry? Henry Hurley?" Roman blinks from beside him, seeming as surprised as his scruffy haired partner. The guy swipes his hands off,
"Actually, I call myself Gunhawk now. Henry is dead."
"Yeah," Dean snorts, "An' he's not the freakin' only one."
He's feeling kind of twitchy stood face to face with him, because as far as he's concerned the guy is suspect number one. A conspiracy theorist nutbag who has maybe murdered his own mother and beaten Dean up in the middle of the night. The PI narrows his eyes. Does it sound like him? The guy who'd warned him off?
"Dean," Roman hisses as Henry slumps, or as Gunhawk slumps, which no way is Dean calling him because it sounds freaking stupid.
"You mean," he hiccups, "You mean my mom. I know, I read – I read about it in the papers."
"Wait, you mean your dad didn't tell you?" Roman frowns,
Henry snorts bitterly at them,
"Who, you mean Christopher? Of course he didn't. He hates me. He cut me out of his will because he thinks me trying to expose the truth about our government is – ," he air quotes the next part, "Not a good use of my time."
Roman blinks,
"But I thought your mom cut your inheritance?"
Henry shuffles awkwardly,
"Yeah, but only because of him. My father turned my mother against me."
"So is that why you killed her?" Dean drawls back, getting a little tired of the kid's surly attitude, not to mention the great big trumpeting Asian elephant in the room. Plus interrogation has never really been his strong suit.
Roman drops his head into his hand with a groan as Henry Hurley goes near supersonic, which is kind of impressive for a man of his girth.
"What? No. I could never – I mean, I couldn't I – ,"
"Hey," their neighbor pokes his head out again, just like he had done two days earlier when Mr Hurley had been there, "Are you two guys kidding me?"
"Uh, babe? The door?" Roman nods towards their office as Dean rejuggles the notepad photograph and keys,
"Alright alright. Simmer down dude, I'm goin'."
Henry Hurley blinks at him,
"Um, is that my sketchbook?"
Not that he has a lot of time to consider it, since the second the door is open Seth and Brock come bounding out, growling and flinging long drool trails respectively, but both of whom make poor Henry back up and then leap almost bodily behind Roman, like some kind of human shield.
"Oh my god. Oh my god. Not dogs, get them off me are – are they angry?"
Dean frowns,
"What? No. Of course they're not dude," except, okay, so maybe Seth is growling. Dean bends down and scoops the mutt up, as Roman steers them all into the office and then boots the door shut, "How the hell can you not like dogs?"
Henry shrugs,
"I don't know. We just never had them and my mom was – ,"
"Afraid of them," Roman finishes gently, "We know."
Henry has sunk down onto the sofa and in the light of the office he looks, well, young, which is probably because he is and because he's lost a parent. Which may or may not be his doing.
Dean opens the notebook,
"Remember this?"
Pages of bile and scribble fall open and Henry's eyes widen,
"It is my sketchpad. Holy crap," he looks bewildered, "Where – where did you get that?"
"From a lovely little squat that's freakin' covered in vomit where we found your friend Lewis Hughes," Dean grumbles back, since he's pretty damn sure he's going to have to wash his work boots to get the puke smell out, "He says hi by the way."
"But you don't understand. I was angry when I wrote that. I didn't really mean it and why the hell were you at my place?"
The fact he calls the squat a place is definitely not lost on Dean, who snorts and then begins to mutter so darkly that Roman takes over. Which is probably best.
"Your old man came to pay us a little visit. Said he thought you might have something to do with Ella's death."
"He what? Why that no good son of a – ," Henry breaks off and then shoves his fist clean into his mouth, which Dean guesses is better than slapping his own face off. Maybe he'll have to try the whole eating himself thing. He lets out a grunt and Seth grumbles at him, which makes him pull his fist back.
Dean pets him,
"Good boy."
"He killed her," Henry pants, his face gone near purple, "That's what I wanted to tell you. My father killed my mom."
Roman blinks,
"Hold on here. How did you even know we were looking into it?"
"Batista," Henry shrugs, "My dad's security guard. He lets me know what my – Christopher is up to and he said you came around asking him questions about mom and telling him you didn't think Ell – my mom – killed herself, which is why I came over here. Because neither do I."
Roman lifts a brow,
"And you think you father did it?"
"Yes," Henry nods.
Dean sighs,
"You know what uce, m' startin' to get like, real freakin' tired of men from the Hurley family turnin' up at my door an' tryin' to rat out other members of the Hurley family. It's makin' my head hurt."
"Me too babe, me too."
"But you have to believe me," Henry gapes brokenly, "My dad Christopher has been having cash flow issues for months. He made a bad investment a couple of years back and he's struggling with creditors."
He pulls out a photo,
"Look."
The grainy looking image shows a couple of bailiffs hoisting a cherry red velour sofa from a house, which looks a lot like the palatial Hurley mansion they had snuck into a few days back. Which is probably because it is, since the next shot shows Christopher clad in a silk dressing gown arguing with them.
"See?" Henry asserts, flipping through more shots until Roman takes them from him to look at them himself, "He's desperate for cash and here's the kicker, my mom had life insurance, meaning if she ever died my dad – I mean Christopher – gets paid big. Although of course, he would never sign one for his own life. That's how I know he did it."
"Where did you get these?" Roman frowns.
Henry shrugs back at him, super evasively,
"I run a conspiracy website. I can get anything."
"So wait a minute," Dean blinks. He's getting a migraine or possibly a stroke, "What about The Global Fund? Or whatever the fuck the name of that thing was. I thought the blonde from reception said that Hurley was payin' out?"
"Which he'd be able to do if the life insurance came through, all while playing the doting husband," Roman points out.
Henry sits up,
"So does this mean you believe me?"
Dean looks at Roman and Roman looks back,
"No," the PI grunts, "But it does mean freakin' one thing. We need to find the roommate."
Roman nods back at him,
"Amen to that."
Next week, we meet a new character. Don't say I didn't warn you!