Dying Art (A Dylan Scott Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page B

absolutely no right had decided it must be so—it was inconceivable.
    Chandler nudged his elbow. “Everyone’s going to the Carlton Hotel for a buffet of sorts,” he said, “but I’m afraid I have to get off.”
    “Oh?” Standing next to Chandler was a man Dylan didn’t recognise. He was probably the same age as Chandler, mid-forties, but he was shorter and stockier. Several pounds of excess flesh hung over his trousers.
    “Sorry, I haven’t introduced you. Dylan, this is Eddie Bryson. Eddie, this is Dylan Scott, the private investigator I told you about.”
    The two men shook hands.
    “I’m Tim’s business partner,” Bryson explained. “I’ve driven up to meet him so that we can leave for the airport in my car.”
    “You’re going to the airport?” Dylan said.
    “Yes,” Chandler said. “Business calls, unfortunately. We’re leaving for the Algarve.”
    “Business? Sorry, but I’ve forgotten what it is you do. I’m sure Maddie mentioned it, but I can’t remember.”
    “Property,” Bryson said. “We deal in time shares, holiday lets, property management. Let me go and offer Maddie my condolences. Won’t be a minute.”
    “It’s a damn nuisance,” Chandler said, “and it couldn’t have come at a worse time, but it’s something I can’t get out of.”
    “Ah.” There was nothing that Dylan couldn’t have got out of if his wife had needed some support. “Well, I’m sure Maddie will be okay. Her parents, aunts, uncle—I’m sure they’ll take good care of her.”
    “Of course they will.” Chandler patted Dylan on the arm. “It’s been good to meet you, Dylan. A pity it was under such difficult circumstances, but perhaps we’ll meet again.”
    “Perhaps we will.”
    Chandler went back to Maddie, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, hugged his mother-in-law, shook hands with his father-in-law and, with Bryson at his side, headed off with the wind blowing his tie over his shoulder.
    A disapproving silence followed him, broken when Maddie spoke. “Sorry, I didn’t ask, Dylan. You will come to the hotel, won’t you? At least we’ll be able to get a sandwich and a stiff drink.”
    “I will, yes. Thanks.”
    “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
    “Are you okay?” he asked.
    “Yes. No. Oh, God knows what I am.” She gave him a wan smile. “I’ll be a lot better once I get a drink inside me.”
    A group of around twenty-five, maybe thirty, ended up at the Carlton Hotel. While the others lunged for the sandwiches, he and Maddie headed for the bar.
    “There was a chap in the cemetery,” he said as they waited for double whiskies to be poured. “He had a beard. Long overcoat. Any idea who he might have been?”
    “No. I didn’t see anyone like that. Why do you ask?”
    “No reason in particular. I couldn’t remember seeing him in church and he was standing some distance away from the grave. Thanks.” He broke off to take their glasses from the barman. “Here, drink this. It’ll warm you up.”
    “Let’s go through to the conservatory,” she said, slipping her arm through his. “I can’t face anyone yet.”
    The Victorian conservatory was dotted with easy chairs and potted ferns. It was also deserted. The front of the hotel stood watch over the town of Dawson’s Clough but here at the back of the building was an uninterrupted view of the moors. Dylan always hated the thought of leaving London and making the long trip north yet, as soon as he arrived, he was amazed all over again by the area’s beauty. Dawson’s Clough was a typical northern town, a mix of old and new where the long-forgotten mills fell into disrepair and shiny new buildings were erected next to them. It was the Pennine Hills surrounding the town that added the touch of magic.
    “It’s a nice hotel,” Maddie said, looking round her. “I’m staying until Friday. I could have stayed at Prue’s but I didn’t fancy that. My parents are driving home after this.” She looked wistful.
    “You can go