Free The Serpent's Sting by Robert Gott

Mother liked Geraldine.’
    â€˜Yes. I think she did. Not that it matters. It makes a nice change, though.’
    â€˜She never really took to Darlene, you know.’
    It would have been ungracious of me to point out that in not taking to Darlene, Mother wasn’t Robinson Crusoe. I was a little surprised that Brian had mentioned his wife, who now languished in an institution, in a fog of confusion and psychosis.
    â€˜I hope it works out for the two of you,’ he said. ‘She seems very nice.’
    Even he was aware of how awkward this sounded, and he hurried on. ‘I wanted to ask you if you could find me some work.’
    â€˜Work?’
    â€˜Please get it into your head, Will. I don’t have a job. I need work. I need to earn money, and I don’t want those bloody Manpower arseholes sticking me in some shitty war job.’
    His indignation caused his face to flush a faint red, and I wondered if he was a sufficiently accomplished actor to manufacture this. Perhaps he was telling the truth.
    â€˜What kind of work do you think I could find for you? Acting?’
    â€˜No. I’m no actor. I thought something in the way of your private-inquiry stuff. You’re still a private-inquiry agent, right?’
    â€˜That was always something of a sideline, and now I’ve got a decent acting job, so …’
    â€˜Yes, that’s excellent. You always believed something like this would happen, didn’t you?’
    I shrugged.
    â€˜I learned early to believe in myself. No one else seemed particularly interested in following my example.’
    Brian made no comment, and I was grateful that he didn’t bother defending either of our parents on this point.
    â€˜Maybe I could take over the business. What do you think? Just to keep the chair warm.’
    â€˜I think, Brian, that you’ve got the wrong idea about the private-inquiry business. I don’t have anything to pass on to you. Were you expecting me to solemnly hand over a deer-stalker hat and a magnifying glass?’
    â€˜You mean there was no business?’
    â€˜Business is altogether too grand a word for it. I don’t have accreditation of any kind. I fell into it, and to my surprise a bit of work turned up. I can admit now that I might have strayed a little out of my depth.’
    Brian seemed taken aback by this admission.
    â€˜The north has really changed you, Will.’
    â€˜The north has changed everything.’
    We were both silent for a moment.
    â€˜If you’re serious, and you really want to get into the detective business, you could begin by having a look at something close to home. There’s money in it.’
    â€˜I’m listening.’
    â€˜I was collared by John Gilbert, not half an hour ago, across in Princes Park. He’s a desperately unhappy young man. At first I thought he had the emotional range of a disturbed twelve-year-old, but having thought about it, I’m not so sure. He came to me because Mother had mentioned to him that I was a private-inquiry agent.’
    â€˜John Gilbert offered you work? He wanted to hire you?’
    â€˜Yes, he did.’
    â€˜What on earth for?’
    â€˜To investigate his mother’s death.’
    Brian’s jaw dropped open.
    â€˜But Mrs Gilbert died of cancer.’
    â€˜Not according to John. He believes that his father murdered her, presumably because he got sick of waiting for her to die so that he could finally marry Mother.’
    â€˜That’s crazy.’
    â€˜Is it? If you allow yourself to entertain the thought, it doesn’t seem utterly unbelievable.’
    â€˜And how did he murder her?’
    â€˜John Gilbert doesn’t know. He thinks it was some sort of slow poisoning.’
    Brian’s eyebrows came together to signal that dismay and revelation were jockeying for position.
    â€˜You get on well with Peter. You could do some discreet digging. If he did bump off his wife, behind