Chapter 19
Bentley
Douglas Taylor III, son of academics and aspiring law deity, stood in a crowd on the streets of Inverness and watched as Patrick MacLeod walked with Madelyn down the street. Holding hands, no less. He had watched them get off that very pricey Learjet, holding hands then as well.
He wondered if she was sleeping with him.
That she should do so when she hadn’t been willing to with him was intensely irritating, but he would repay her for that later. He’d have plenty of time to see to that once MacLeod was out of the way.
And he had the perfect way to see that accomplished.
His time hadn’t been wasted over the past couple of days. First he’d determined who owned the plane MacLeod was using. And while he’d been about that small bit of investigating, he’d also learned that Conal Grant had a brother-in-law, Gilbert McGhee, who had a daughter who was dead.
Murdered, it was rumored.
By none other than her husband, Patrick MacLeod.
Bentley had listened in rapt fascination to all the gossip he’d heard. Murder, mayhem, foul crimes wrought in the middle of the night.
Three of his favorites.
Fortunately for that poor Gilbert McGhee who had obviously lost someone to Patrick’s dastardly hands, he was a fine prosecutor and could pull facts, exhibits, and other pertinent items out of thin air.
MacLeod would pay.
Then Madelyn would pay.
He watched MacLeod and Madelyn walk down the street and smirked to himself.
“Enjoy your peace and quiet,” he muttered. “It ain’t gonna last long.”