The Drowning Pool by Jacqueline Seewald Page A

he observe a weakness and simply play on it?”
    Scofield seemed just as surprised by the straightforward nature of Gardner’s question as he had by Bert’s hostility. He took a moment to collect himself before answering. “Bradshaw was always after Lou, trying to flirt with her, paying her compliments, sitting as near to her as he could possibly get.”
    “Doesn’t sound worth getting excited over,” Bert said.
    “Who are you to judge? You didn’t see the guy in action. He only let up a tad when I explained my personal philosophy to him. He actually blanched then. His face turned as white as the belly of a dead catfish.”
    “What philosophy would that be?” Gardner asked.
    “My attitude toward adultery.” Scofield flashed a quick, inscrutable glance at his wife.
    “You might explain it to us.”
    “It’s very simple. I believe if a man catches his wife in bed with another guy, the husband has every right, a duty, in fact, to kill both of them.”
    There was a moment of absolute silence in the room.
    “You don’t consider that harsh?” Gardner asked.
    “It’s justice. You think it sounds extreme? I say it’s fair.”
    “Most men would be satisfied with a divorce.”
    “I’m not most men! I was brought up to believe people should be made to pay for their transgressions.”
    Gardner glanced over at Mrs. Scofield. Her coloring resembled nothing so closely as a peeled summer squash. She rose abruptly to her feet, only to begin swaying unsteadily as if she were about to faint. Bert went to her, took hold of her arms and gently seated the young woman again. Mrs. Scofield gave Bert a small, grateful smile, but her eyes looked terribly sad.
    “Are you all right?” Bert asked with genuine concern.
    Lou’s hand rose to her forehead. “I was just a little dizzy for a moment. Everything suddenly went dark. As I said, I haven’t been feeling too well lately. I guess it must be a touch of the flu.” She folded her hands primly in her lap.
    “I am sorry, Mrs. Scofield,” Gardner apologized. “We don’t have any more questions for you. So if you’d like to lie down, please feel free.”
    “Thank you,” she said. Slowly, she got to her feet again and then left the room.
    They all watched her go, then Gardner turned back and faced Scofield, eyes meeting with direct contact.
    “Did you murder Richard Bradshaw?” He kept his tone of voice quiet but intense.
    “What? Of course not! I could have, should have, but I didn’t.” Scofield met his gaze unflinchingly.
    “Are you certain that your wife was having an affair with him?” He looked at Scofield directly.
    “That’s none of your goddamned business,” Scofield fired back, his face turning the color of a blood sun. The man was coming toward him, his fists raised, a savage expression on his face.
    “Take it easy,” Bert warned.
    “We’re through with our questions,” Gardner said. The last thing he needed was for them to get into a physical confrontation in this situation. Scofield backed off, and Gardner signaled Bert that it was time to leave.
    Once on the outside, Bert took long, rapid strides toward their parked car. “I would enjoy taking that bastard apart.”
    He decided that although Scofield was a big man, Bert was probably capable of doing a job on him.
    Bert climbed into the passenger side of the unmarked, dark blue Chevy he was driving tonight. “Scofield makes a real good suspect. And don’t tell me you can’t see him having a motive.”
    “Possibly, but according to his self-espoused philosophy, if he caught his wife cheating, he would kill her as well as the man. She is still alive.”
    “Just barely. He’s punishing her with a living death, or haven’t you noticed?” Bert vigorously slammed the car door.
    “I definitely noticed. But is he the kind who would plunge a knife into a man’s back? Whatever he is, Scofield doesn’t strike me as being a sneak.”
    “I still say anyone who comes right out and tells us he’s