“Of course. Please take a seat and let me know how I can help you?”
“You’re the Ginelli’s lawyer—”
Paul was quick to interrupt. “Was, my dear. Louise uses Bell and Lawson now. After your father’s death, she terminated our contract. I assumed she wanted her own people around. No offence was given, and none was taken.”
Sophie knew she shouldn’t be surprised. It looked like Louise had changed a lot of things after she was widowed. “Oh, okay. I’ll be thirty in a few weeks, and that’s when I come into my Ginelli shares. Louise says we’ll talk about it on my birthday. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but her second husband, Drew Portland, is dead—murdered, they say—and I don’t want to press her. The manager of Ginelli’s is an old friend, and I know my dad gave him some shares years ago.”
“Yes, I remember. Tony was relying on Justin Le Mahe more and more, and he wanted the boy to know he had a proper share in the business.”
“I also believe Louise gave shares to Drew Portland.”
“I don’t know anything about that, I’m afraid.”
“But how could she do that? She was holding fifty percent of her shares in trust for me. Surely she couldn’t give them away?”
He took his glasses off and cleaned them on his tie. It looked like silk—expensive. “Did Louise say the shares had gone into a trust?”
“Well, not exactly, but I know she said she was holding them in trust.”
“I want to double-check my facts before I say anything.” He picked up a manila folder tied in green ribbon from the table in front of him and, untying it, riffled through the papers inside. “I recalled this file from storage when you made the appointment to see me.”
After a few moments, he pulled out a document and quickly read through it. “Your father’s will only created one trust. One which paid you a cash amount at eighteen. I assume you received that?” He looked stern.
“Yes, yes, I did. It paid for me to get through university and have some savings. So the shares aren’t in trust?”
“Your father’s will did not place a trust over the shares. What he did do was leave his shares in Ginelli’s, meaning the remaining eighty percent of the whole, to his widow with the proviso that, upon your thirtieth birthday, you receive half of the shares she held.”
“Exactly! So Louise shouldn’t have given Drew any shares as she was holding some for me.”
“Ah, not exactly. It was fifty percent of the shares Louise held on your thirtieth birthday or of the proceeds received from their sale. If she had disposed of all the shares, you’d have been due half the sale proceeds. But I am assuming she gifted the shares to her new husband for no consideration.”
“And?”
“That means you are only entitled to fifty percent of however many shares Louise holds on the day of your thirtieth birthday.”
She sat back, shocked. “I would have been due forty percent of the business, but since Louise gave Drew twenty percent, leaving her with sixty, then I am only going to get thirty percent of my family business?”
“That was how your father drafted it. He never envisaged Louise gifting the shares to anyone. It is little consolation, but I did mention the possibility to him. He said Louise loved you like a daughter and would never do anything to disadvantage you. I’m afraid lawyers never trust anyone, and it’s usually with good reason. Are you okay?”
She thought for a moment. “Yes, I guess so. I need to process this.”
“Let me know if I can help you at all.”
“Thank you.” And she left, taking her jumbled thoughts with her.
#
Le Claire arrived at Ginelli’s reception as William Mason was moving along the corridor beside reception. The lawyer waited for him. “I’m glad you could make it. Given the circumstances, I thought it appropriate that you attend the reading of the will.”
“How did the funeral go?” The coroner had released the body as the cause of death was now clear. The family could at least have some form of closure.
“Small and private. Mrs Portland thought it best in the circumstances. It was just her, her niece and stepdaughter, Drew Portland’s family and a couple of other gentlemen.”
He figured that could be Tom Mathison and Peter Frobisher.
“Thanks. Did you get everything sorted out?”
“Sort of, although not as I expected.” The cryptic words bounced around Le Claire’s head as he followed Mason down the corridor. The room they entered was laid out as a meeting area with a large conference table in the middle. Maura Portland and her sons had taken up position on one side; Louise Portland sat alone at the other. Mason took his place at the head of the table and indicated for Le Claire to take the seat to his right, which he did, quietly nodding to the table.
“I have asked DCI Le Claire to join us, given the circumstances of Mr Drew Portland’s death.” No one looked particularly interested, for all eyes were on the lawyer.
“I have here the last will of Andrew McCallum Portland, known as Drew. I will be brief and state that Mr Portland’s will was unusual in that it did not make provision for his wife, Mrs Louise Portland. Mrs Portland has, however, waived any claim she had on Mr Portland’s estate.”
Maura Portland’s eyes flashed in Louise’s direction, quickly followed by those of her sons, but she only stared at the notepad and pen on the table and didn’t acknowledge their interest.
“Mr Portland left his entire estate to be shared between his mother, Maura Portland, and his two brothers, Ian and Oliver.”
Le Claire took in the reactions of those around the table. Louise Portland seemed unconcerned, yet if he had heard correctly, she had waived any entitlement to her late husband’s assets, which would include his shares in the hotel. Ian and Oliver Portland couldn’t hide their apparent relief as they visibly relaxed. Maura closed her eyes, her tightly clasped hands loosening.
Mason paused to clear his throat, and Oliver Portland was quick to ask, “I hate to be indelicate, but what is the estate worth?”
“That is under review at present, but there is a complication.”
The tension in the air rose as Mason continued. “I have been approached by the lawyer for a Mrs Cathy Frobisher. Please forgive my bluntness, Mrs Portland, but Mrs Frobisher claims she is pregnant with Mr Portland’s child.”
Louise Portland sat staring straight ahead, the twin spots of colour in her cheeks the only indication she was in any way concerned by the discussions.
Ian Portland was first to react. “She didn’t waste any time. We only found out about this yesterday. Surely she isn’t entitled to anything?”
Mason shook his head. “It isn’t about Mrs Frobisher, but the child she is carrying. We won’t be able to obtain conclusive DNA tests until after the birth. Under Jersey law, we have one year and a day to complete probate. The island operates a form of forced heirship, meaning a spouse or children, illegitimate or not, may each claim up to one-third of a deceased’s movable estate. I understand from Mrs Portland that her husband did not own any property, and therefore did not have any immovable assets. Therefore, all assets will be frozen for the time being. We will have to block one-third until the birth of the child, at which time an investigation into the claim will commence.”
Oliver Portland’s voice whipped across the room. “Can’t we access any of the funds, deal with the assets?”
“I’m afraid not. Although a child would only have a claim to one-third of the estate we need to firstly determine what the assets are. If they are hard to value we may need to freeze all of them for a longer period. We need to ensure any child born of Mr Portman genuinely has access to one-third of the estate and not a lesser amount due to fluctuating values.”
No-one spoke. Maura was stony-faced as she looked from one son to another. In return, Ian and Oliver were seemingly lost in their own world as they stared at each other in some form of silent communication. Louise Portland reddened, an angry mottled flush covering her face, a
nd a little tic worked away at the corner of her eye. She stood, overturning her chair as she pushed back from the table. She spoke for the first time since Le Claire had entered the room. “I won’t let that whore drag us through a public spectacle. That’s a promise.”
#
Sophie’s head was spinning. She wasn’t drunk, but the two glasses of red wine, a beautiful, expensive French, had gone straight to her head. “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you, Justin.”
He’d seen her come rushing into the hotel. She’d been preoccupied, and he’d taken one look at her face and bundled her upstairs to the flat. He’d run her a bath, told her to get in it and relax, and he’d be back in an hour with lunch. They’d eaten surf and turf, thick fillet steak with garlicky prawns and skinny fries. The wine was relaxing her more than the bath.
He smiled. “Glad to help.” He looked away, but she heard his sigh. His gaze didn’t meet hers; instead, he stared into the liquid in his glass. “Sophie, what you said about the shares—I feel guilty knowing your dad gave me some.”
“No, you mustn’t. My dad thought the world of you. You helped him so much, and I know you held everything together when he died. You’ve run the place ever since.”
“Thanks. So what Louise did with the shares was legal?”
“Yep, looks like it. Not moral, not what my dad wanted, but legal, yes.”
“That must hurt. I’m sorry.”
She softly touched his bare wrist, slightly above where the cuff of his shirt ended. An electric buzz shot through her, awareness pricked her skin, and she caught his eye. He looked as shocked as she did. She dampened down the tremor that heightened her senses and kept her voice even and her laugh light.
“Gosh, you’re electric today.” She rose from the table. “Anyway, I’ve left a message for Louise to call me. She owes me that much. Thanks for lunch. Shall I make some coffee?”
His hand shot out, grabbed her forearm and held her fast. His eyes trapped hers, drew her in and wouldn’t let go. “We used to share electricity, remember? We were kids, but I knew what we had was special. And then you left.”
The air was still, and a rush of regret almost overwhelmed her. “I am sorry. Everything went dark after dad died, and Louise met Drew. I had to get away.”
“And you never came back.”
“No, I didn’t. But I’m here now.”
She looked down. He still held on to her wrist, and she placed her hand over his, pulled back and drew him to his feet. The alcohol had loosened her inhibitions, but it was him—his face, his smile, his strong shoulders, the tiny fair hairs she could see where his shirt was unbuttoned, his tie loosened—that made her go on.
He flicked his hand, so he held her wrist, pulled her closer and, bending his head, touched his lips to hers. A whisper of a kiss, a gentle caress that touched every part of her and awakened long-forgotten memories. She’d been sixteen years old, and he’d been twenty when they’d first kissed, first touched. A lifetime ago, yet it seemed like yesterday. He drew her tight, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, groin to groin, and she pushed against him, removing any slight distance, feeling his heat through their clothes, wishing them gone. He deepened the kiss and leant over her, arched her back, with his arm and weight supporting her. She was a teenager again and aching for the next experience, the next bend in the road. Sound, light—all was blocked out yet intensified. His breath, and hers, hitching, short, filled with passion. She opened her eyes; his were hooded, darkened and devouring her. His hand caressed her ass, drifted past her waist and cupped her breast. She gasped, leant into his embrace. The shrill sound of a ringing telephone was like a dousing with ice-cold water. They drew apart, panting, took a moment, and then, with a lopsided grin Justin reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his mobile. “Sorry! I better get this.”
She drew back, brushed a hand over her hair and self-consciously moved to the table, piling the dishes on top of each other. His voice was sharp, professional. “Yes, wait for me. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He smiled in apology as he hung up. “A long-time guest is checking in, but their favourite room is occupied. I need to smooth some feathers.”
“Of course, sure, no problem.”
He pulled her to him, kissed her again and sent her reeling. “This is only the start. I’ve had another taste of you, and I’m not letting go so easily this time.”
His words kept her warm long after he’d gone.
#
Cathy half expected the Ginelli doorman to refuse her entry to the hotel, but he was busy settling some departing guests into a taxi, so she slipped in behind him and hurried through the revolving doors.
To her relief, Justin was standing by the reception desk and was projecting a major charm offensive at two guests, who weren’t looking happy. Suddenly, they gasped, and broad smiles broke out. They took their room key and headed for the lifts. As the doors closed behind them, she saw Justin’s smile disappear from his face to be replaced with a thunderous scowl as he glared at Nikki, who was manning reception. “For Christ’s sake, who screwed up the booking? They are here every year at this time and always have the same room, which is currently occupied by someone else. I’ve had to give them the one-bedroom suite. Get me the details on who took their booking, and I’ll deal with them later.” His black look darkened when he turned and saw her.
“What are you doing here, Cathy? You know Louise told you not to come back.”
“That’s why I’m here. I have a claim for unfair dismissal.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” His words were whispered. “Come on through.”
She followed him into his office and, without being asked, made herself comfortable in one of the fancy visitor chairs. He didn’t sit but stood by the side of the desk looking down at her. She held the winning hand and wasn’t going to allow him to threaten her. He sighed, and the sternness in his face relaxed. “You’ve certainly created a bit of a mess. You okay?”
“I’m as good as, but I need to be strong. I’m going to have a kid, and I need to make sure I’m well set-up.”
“Yeah, I heard you were going to try and go after Drew’s assets.”
“Not try. I am going after them. And the Citizens Advice people say I can get legal aid, so it’s a win-win for me.”
“So what can I do for you?”
“I want proper severance pay and for it to take into account that I’ve been unfairly dismissed.”
“But Louise has already paid you.”
“That’s right, but Ginelli’s hasn’t formally terminated my employment or paid me. It was a personal matter with Louise. So the company still need to do right by me.”
“Stop being ridiculous. We paid you, and that’s that.”
“No, it isn’t. You better make sure everything is above board because my lawyers are going to want details on the business, and you don’t want them seeing how badly you treat a poor defenceless pregnant woman, do you?”
He raked his hair, and brown tufts stood on end. He actually looked a bit different today, softer, more boyish, and she wondered if he was getting some. She’d heard the rumours about his crush on Sophie Ginelli. Maybe it was more than that now. “Look, Justin, we’ve all got our lives to get on with. I know Drew was keen to sell the hotel and restaurant, and he was hoping to persuade Louise. I met one of the investors he was talking to. If I get Drew’s shares, I could talk to this guy again. Drew said you had some shares as well. We could make a killing. You’re due something after all the years you’ve grafted here?”
“Louise doesn’t want to sell.”
“Maybe, but we could sell our shares.”
“Cathy, you talk like they’re in your name already. Look, I’ll speak to the HR manager and get them to send you something formal in writing, and I’ll see if we can get the statutory payoff for you. But that is it. You’ll get nothing else. Neither from this business nor Drew’s estate. You need to stay away from here and not come back.”
She
rose, but before reaching the door turned back and said, “I am going to get those shares, and I am going to sell them. The buyer Drew had in mind has plenty of money, but he’s shrewd as hell and will be all over you guys to protect his investment. Get on my side, and you’ll avoid a load of hassle.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Masters had been rummaging in the Portland family’s business and, as was his wont, found some dirt. Oliver and Ian Portland were sluicing down their fishing boat. Their mother’s cleanliness on the stall may have been open to questions, but not theirs. The girl who helped their mother out was chatting to Ian as they approached the dock. Le Claire shouted across to them, “DI Masters and I would like a word with you and your brother, if we may.”
Ian Portland shrugged and, calling out to his brother, wiped his hands on the rag he was holding and walked across to them. Oliver Portland followed close behind, and it was he who spoke first. “What is this about? Have you any clues about who killed Drew?”
“We are still investigating the matter. Is the name Francine Bresson familiar to you?”
Both men shook their heads. “Nope, who is she?”
He handed them a print of the picture from Francine Bresson’s passport. “Recognise her?”
Oliver shook his head, and Ian followed a second later. “Never seen her before, why?”
“That’s fine.” Le Claire indicated Masters. “My colleague here has a few questions for you.” He’d never seen Masters in action and was hoping some of his worst prejudices against him would be unfounded.
“I heard you were all drinking in the Five Bells two nights before your brother died?”
“Yeah, what’s that got to do with anything?” Ian Portland’s tone was belligerent.
Blood On The Rock: Treachery, desire, jealousy and murder (A Jack Le Claire Mystery) Page 16