Cruel Comfort (Evan Buckley Thrillers Book 1) Read Free

corner he crossed to the door.
    'Who is it? What do you want?'
    'Police. Open up.'
    That wasn't the answer he was
expecting. Perhaps the motel owner had reported the damage to his door and
McIntyre had given them his licence number. He unlocked the door and looked out
at the two men standing in the corridor.
    There was a short, fat one in front
and a taller one half hidden behind him. He saw the one in front look him up
and down and felt acutely aware of his crumpled clothing and the stale smell of
whisky and sweat that must be wafting out from the room. On cue, Fatso sniffed
suspiciously at the air.
    'Evan Buckley?' he asked
    'Yes, that's me. What can I do for
you?'
    'You could invite us in to start
with, unless you want everyone in the building to listen in.'
    'Sorry. Of course. Come in.'
    Evan stepped aside to let them
squeeze pass. He saw the empty whisky bottle and two glasses still on the desk
at about the same time they did. It wasn't a large office, so they couldn’t
miss his sleeping bag lying in the corner either, looking like someone had just
crawled out of it.
    'Nice professional setup you've got
here,' Butterball said and wrinkled his nose. 'Do you mind if I open the
window; let in a bit of fresh air?' He didn't wait for an answer. 'Had a party
in here last night did you? Been sleeping it off?'
    'Do you mind telling me what this is
about, Detective...'
    'Ryder.' More like Detective
Donut , Evan thought. 'We'd like to ask you some questions, Mr Buckley.'
    'Sure, go ahead, why not.'
    'Do you know a Mr Kevin Stanton'
    That was the second surprise in less
than five minutes. Faint alarm bells started to go off in Evan’s head. 'Yes,
why?'
    'We'll get to that in a minute. Can
you tell us what your relationship is with Mr Stanton?'
    'He's a client.'
    'A client.' He managed to make it
sound like something to be ashamed of.
    'And what exactly do you do for your client , Mr Stanton?' Ryder said, flashing a cold smile at Evan.
    'Why do I get the impression you
know all the answers before you ask the questions?'
    'Just answer the question please.'
    'Actually that's between me and Mr
Stanton.'
    Ryder gave him a long suffering look
but didn't press it. Seeing as he knew the answer anyway, he didn't need to.
    'Okay. Can you tell us when the last
time you saw him was?'
    'Last night. Here, in my office.’ He
pointed to the glasses on the desk. ‘If you want to dust one of those glasses
you keep staring at so disapprovingly, you'll find it's covered with his
fingerprints.
    'So you were having a party, were
you? Do you do that with all your clients?'
    'Not a party, just a few drinks.'
    The detective made a show of
sniffing the air. 'More than a few by the look - and smell - of things.'
    Evan sighed wearily at the
relentless jibes. His head was pounding; that was punishment enough. He didn’t
need any of this. 'Is this going anywhere, Detective?'
    'Not for Mr Stanton it isn't. I'm
sorry to have to tell you that Mr Stanton committed suicide last night.'
    Evan took a step backwards as if
he’d been slapped and dropped heavily into his chair. He felt suddenly cold. He
shook his head in disbelief. It couldn't be true. Stanton hadn't been suicidal
when he went home. Something must have happened at home. Ryder was saying
something else, his mouth turned down in disgust.
    'Sorry, what was that?'
    'I said, it appears that Mr Stanton
had spent the evening drinking heavily. We now know that at least some of that
was done here with you.' There was more than a hint of accusation in his voice.
'He then seems to have gone home where he spent some time looking at
pornographic images on his computer.'
    Evan groaned inwardly. His heart was
pounding. His mouth was dry and he needed a drink of water. He didn't want to
hear what was coming.
    'Not just the everyday porn your
average Joe can get off the internet, either. Bespoke , you could call
it. Pictures of his own loving wife being screwed stupid by another man.' It
was a full blown accusation