So Much For Buckingham: The Camilla Randall Mysteries #5 Read Online Free PDF Page A

table next to the bottle, making it clear, I hoped, that I had no interest in drinking at the moment.
    "What does any of this military history have to do with Ronzo's suicide? If that's what it is. Do you think it's something caused by PTSD from being in combat?"
    "Oh, heavens no." Marva settled into the couch. "Ronzo is one of the few vets I know who has hardly any symptoms of PTSD. He lets things bounce off him. Maybe it's from growing up in such a violent neighborhood."
    I didn't know Ronzo had grown up in a violent neighborhood. He didn't talk much about his childhood. All I knew was that he had no brothers and sisters and his parents were dead, but he had lots of cousins and aunts and uncles who did comical things at holidays. Mostly he talked about music, and playing in bands. He was a rock and roll guy. Easy going. A happy man. He'd always seemed to be, anyway.
    I pulled over a chair and sat opposite Marva, putting on my businesslike face.
    "If it's not something from the war, what could possibly have driven Ronzo to kill himself? If he's dead at all, I think he must have been murdered. Suicide makes no sense."
    Marva pulled a Samsung tablet from her bag.
    "There are websites... Oh Camilla, you're so innocent. I don't know how much you know about what goes on in the world of kink..."
    "I'm not that innocent. Tell me." I had been married to a newsman for over a decade. One who accused me of sadomasochism and necrophilia in a bad joke during our divorce. I'd heard it all.
    Marva took a deep breath.
    "Last week there was a horrific video of someone who...well, who looks a lot like Ronzo. It was on a crush site. Sick, sick stuff. I do not understand people who get off on torturing defenseless animals. Even the bug crushers. They're all disgusting."
    "People squash bugs? And think it's sexy?"
    "Usually women wearing stilettos do the crushing." Marva tapped something on her tablet. "It's gross but totally legal. So are the mice and moles and squirrels, but when it comes to pets..."
    "Squirrels? People squash squirrels for fun?" I realized I would never understand large segments of the population.
    "Baby ones. They look a bit like mice. These people kill little creatures in various ways. Usually while naked. Or wearing fetish outfits. I'm bringing up the site. It's illegal, so you don't want to access it on your own computer. I have to go to some creepy places because of my work, but you don't."
    She waved the tablet in my direction.
    "You don't want to click on the video, but I think if you take a glimpse of the site, you'll see how a guy could feel pretty awful about himself if he participated..."
    I seized the tablet as politely as I could without tearing it from Marva's hands.
    I was confronted with a website called "GoreFest." A photo of a black velvet curtain splattered with blood covered a discreet home page where it asked people to check a box saying they were over twenty-one to enter.
    It had a list of links with titles like "Puppy Dog Eyes" and "I hate Gerbils." One said "Jer-Z-Boy and Teh Kittehs in the Towah."
    Jer-Z-Boy. Ronzo always called himself "Jersey Boy" on his blog.
    I knew I'd probably regret it, but Marva's drawn-out storytelling was making me crazy.
    I hit the "over twenty-one" box and then the Jer-Z-Boy link while Marva ceremoniously opened the bottle of Courvoisier and filled the snifter.
    What I saw made me want to throw up. In a dark, amateurish phone video, a man naked except for military boots marched toward a cat-climbing tower—one of those things covered in carpeting—where five or six tiny kittens played. He doused the tower with what looked like lighter fluid and lit a match.
    The man could only be seen from the back. But his hair was a familiar blond, shaggy style. On his trim behind was a tattoo. A tattoo of a Fender Stratocaster guitar. A blue one. With wings.
    As the kittens escaped the fire, the man raised his boot over a tiny black and white one.
    I didn't need to see any more. I