“Don’t be a sourpuss. In an island that is nine by five miles, news travels fast. And that girl, Cathy Frobisher? I hear she was pregnant and beaten to death. It must take a special kind of monster to do that.”
“Indeed, did you know either of them?”
“I knew Drew to say hello to. He seemed a bon vivant kind of guy who apparently liked the finer things in life. I saw the girl on his boat sometimes. I knew he’d married Tony Ginelli’s widow, Louise, but I wasn’t up-to-date on what the current situation was between them. I know the brothers, Oliver and Ian, by sight; in fact, I saw Ian the night Drew was killed. He was out with a pretty girl. A man my age still notices these things.”
“You knew Tony Ginelli?”
“Yes, I was his lawyer, and I hope he also counted me as a friend. After Tony’s death, Louise moved the business to another firm. C’est la vie and all that.”
“So you don’t have any remaining connection to Ginelli’s?”
He hesitated, and Le Claire stayed quiet and waited. It seemed like Armstrong had something to say. “The daughter, Sophie, came to see me a few days ago.”
“What did she want?”
“To find out some information about her father’s will.”
“Which was?”
“You know I can’t tell you that?”
“Is she your client? Because Ginelli’s isn’t. You said the business had gone elsewhere.”
Armstrong laughed. “I do like you, Le Claire. Under her father’s will, Sophie is due to inherit fifty percent of the Ginelli shares held by Louise Portland on her thirtieth birthday. Sophie had thought she was due forty percent of the business, the other forty percent to be retained by Louise Portland. Justin Le Mahe owns the remaining twenty percent. But Louise transferred another twenty percent of the business to Drew Portland when they married.”
“I was aware of that. Why was Miss Ginelli so anxious over her inheritance?”
Armstrong’s smile was discreet and his words lawyer-like. “I am sure it was a natural desire to comprehend what the legalities were, nothing more. I better get off now.” He turned back and said, “If you ever fancy coming out on the boat, let me know.”
“Yes, of course, I will. Thanks.” And that reply was right up there with bumping into an old acquaintance and saying you must meet for lunch. It was never going to happen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Dewar popped her head around his office door. “She’s here.”
Le Claire grabbed his jacket and followed her to the interview room where Sophie Ginelli was waiting for them. She was sitting sideways on the chair, one arm resting along the backrest, her legs crossed, one foot tapping to a silent beat.
“Miss Ginelli, thank you for coming in. We would have come to you and saved you the journey.”
“This suits me better. No offence, but I don’t want the police turning up at the hotel. You said you needed to discuss something. Can we get on with it, please?”
“Of course. I understand you are due to take control of shares in Ginelli’s, on your 30th birthday.”
Her look of surprise quickly softened with a quick smile. “Yes, that’s right. I’m impressed by your thoroughness.”
“And you would be a shareholder alongside your stepmother and Justin Le Mahe. And Drew Portland’s shareholding will have reverted to your stepmother, increasing the shares you’ll be due.”
She didn’t blink but huffed out an aggravated breath. “That’s correct. Look, where is this going?”
“I have a hypothesis for you. What if you knew your father’s will only left you half the shares held by Louise at the time of your thirtieth birthday; and that your stepfather had been gifted shares by her. You’d have assumed his assets would go to your stepmother on his death. What if you poisoned Drew Portland? He’d be out of the way, and you’d get your full inheritance. But Cathy Frobisher put a spanner in the works. Her baby would be due to something from Portland’s estate, and that included the Ginelli’s shares.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth gaped open. “You have got to be bloody joking. I couldn’t stand the man, but I didn’t kill him. I didn’t even know Louise had given him shares. I only found out after he was dead. The shares reverted to Louise on Drew’s death. It was only if Louise died first that the shares would stay in Drew’s ownership.”
“But you’ve only recently become aware of that. However, there is something I can’t get my head around. If you, as you say, couldn’t stand Mr Portland, why were you trying to make amends with him?”
She shifted, licked her lips and glanced at the floor. Her pause told it all. “Miss Ginelli, you need to prepare your story a little better. Tell me the truth, why did you go to speak with Drew Portland the night he died? Because I don’t for one minute believe you went to make peace. You lied to us, didn’t you? Lied again, in fact, for you omitted to tell us you knew Drew Portland and let us believe you were merely a passer-by. And if you can lie to me once, it makes me wonder what other omissions or fabrications you’re hiding behind.”
Her shoulders drooped, her bravado fled and she deflated before his eyes. “My friend told me Drew was having an affair. She’s Louise’s niece, but they’d had some fights in the past and she didn’t want to get involved herself. I came to confront him. I didn’t know he had any shares, but I thought if he and Louise got divorced, he’d receive some form of settlement. I wanted to tell him I knew he was seeing someone and I’d go straight to Louise if he didn’t stop. I wanted to frighten him. He had no entitlement to my family’s money, none at all. My conversation would have been in vain as they had a prenup, so Louise wasn’t so foolish after all.”
“Did you speak to Drew Portland on his boat? Did you go to see if the poison was working.”
She looked bewildered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Seriously.”
“Someone was seen on Drew Portland’s boat. They watched him die. Was it you?”
She drew back. “Jesus, no.”
“When exactly did you arrive into the island?”
“Monday. I went to see Drew Wednesday night. We all know how I found him.”
Le Claire knew this was a useless road. Sophie Ginelli would have needed to be in the island at least a week before Drew’s murder, maybe more. She would have needed time to collect and prepare the mushrooms, doctor the wine and have it delivered.
“Okay. You’re free to go. For now.”
#
Dewar parked the car in front of Louise Portland’s house. The house was still and quiet. Le Claire turned to Dewar.
“Right, I want to know more about the Ginelli shares and the business itself. It seems too coincidental that Drew Portland was killed by poisoned mushrooms and foraging in the woods is his wife’s speciality.”
“You mean she either killed him or someone is trying to point us in her direction?”
“Yes, by using poison. And in such a way that we could never have mistaken this for anything other than murder. Come on.”
It was no surprise when Tom Mathison opened the door. His face held a black look, and his words matched. “If you’re here to see Louise, you’ll have to come another time. She can’t speak to anyone right now.”
“I’m sorry if Mrs Portland is indisposed, but we are investigating two murders, and I would hope she could spare a few moments.”
“Look, she can’t—”
A weak voice came from the upstairs, “It’s fine, Tom. Show them up.”
He shook his head and stood still for a moment, then called out, “Are you sure?”
“Please, Tom, bring them up.” Louise Portland’s voice trailed off, and they heard violent coughing as they climbed the balustraded staircase behind Tom Mathison. They walked along the plushly carpeted corridor to a room at the end. The door was ajar. Louise Portland was lying on the bed wearing a short-sleeved cotton nightdress, but this was no post-coital scenario. She was attached to a portable drip, and a steady stream of liquid was pumped into her
via a catheter inserted into her arm. Her usual carefully applied make-up was absent, and her face looked raw, her bone structure fragile.
“I’m sorry you have to see me like this, but this is my reality for the moment.”
Le Claire approached the bed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were ill.”
“Virtually no one does. Only Tom, of course, some very close friends, and people in the business who need to know to make plans.” She sat up in the bed, and Tom Mathison rushed over to straighten and plump the pillows, supporting her back. “Thank you, Tom.” She looked at Le Claire. “Now how can I help you today?” Her voice was brisk, and it was clear she didn’t want to discuss her illness.
“I wanted to ask a few questions about the Ginelli business. I’m aware you gifted Mr Portland some shares, but they reverted to you when he died?”
“Yes. I gave Drew the shares so he could be a part of Ginelli’s. That never worked out as he didn’t take to Justin, who runs the entire place, and I don’t know what we’d do without him. But at least Drew could hold his head high and not be seen as living off my largesse.”
“But he didn’t have any assets of his own?”
“No. I am not a fool. Drew was exactly what I needed after Tony died; whether I should have married him or not is a moot point now. Drew was a charming guy, and I guess it made me anxious, so I kept him on a tight leash. Obviously not tight enough, for he wanted to divorce me.”
“So you knew your marriage was over and your husband was leaving you for Cathy Frobisher?”
“I didn’t know it was Cathy he was seeing, but I guess he must’ve loved her.”
“Why do you say that?”
“We had a cast-iron prenuptial agreement. Drew would have left with his personal belongings and a small amount of cash. So he must have loved her; he would have been walking away from a lot, financially at least.”
“And you weren’t happy with that?”
“No, I wasn’t. And then I found out I was ill, and the outlook isn’t great. So my focus shifted to me, to my well-being. Luckily, Tom has been a great support.” She clasped the doctor’s hand. Tom Mathison’s face softened, and Le Claire knew the man genuinely cared for Louise Portland.
“Was your husband aware of your illness?”
“No, my health was no longer his business.”
“Mrs Portland, you must know it looks suspicious that your husband died of poisoning when you would know what were deadly fungi and what was safe to eat. You also knew he didn’t like mushrooms and wouldn’t eat them if they were served as part of a meal. The bottles of Margaux are consistent with the years you stock at Ginelli’s, and we’ve seen how lax the control is over the wine cellar. Did you murder your husband?”
She laughed until she coughed, a vicious spluttering fit that reddened her face and took her breath. “Even though I could have throttled Drew and his little piece of fluff, I didn’t. I have bigger worries in my life than an unfaithful husband.”
“Is Sophie Ginelli aware of your illness?”
“No, I haven’t told Sophie yet. We’ve been estranged for a long time, and the timing hasn’t seemed right to say anything. I will have to broach the subject soon though.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ve employed an accountant to value the business. I want it done quietly, so no one is aware of this at the moment. I’m going to give them the last few years’ books and accounts to get an idea of what we could get if the hotel and restaurant were sold. Depending on my circumstances and if Sophie isn’t living in Jersey, it may be sensible to sell up. Drew was always trying to persuade me to do so, but it seemed a betrayal of my first husband. Maybe I need to explore that option now.”
“Is there a chance Miss Ginelli may come back to Jersey?”
“You never know. I would have said no, but I believe she and Justin Le Mahe have got close again.”
Dewar was quick to pick up on the point. “Again?”
“Yes, they were seeing each other before Sophie went away and never came back. Tony thought the world of Justin, and we both hoped they would last the course. But young love doesn’t always persevere. Maybe they’ll have a second chance; perhaps it’s a fling. In either event, I need to have looked at the options to determine the right thing to do.” Her gaze never wavered. “I didn’t kill Drew.”
“I believe you. Everything was orchestrated to point to you. But the question which remains is who and why? Do you have any ideas? Who would want your husband gone?”
“Peter Frobisher had a reason, didn’t he? But I can’t see him having the brains and patience to kill in this way. From what I hear, the attack on Cathy Frobisher was brutal. Perhaps it was driven by passion, which is present in both love and hate.” She shook her head. “Drew was an affable guy. I don’t know who could be behind this.”
“We’ll leave you for now. Take care.”
Tom Mathison offered, “I’ll see you out.”
They walked in silence to the front door. Mathison followed them outside to the car. “Louise has a rare form of heart condition, and her body is struggling to cope.”
“Is there a cure?”
“The hospital specialists have said no and to prepare for the worst. There are alternative opinions, and I’m working through those to see if any would be viable.”
#
Sophie had dressed with care and put much more thought into what she wore than was usual. She’d gone to the beautician’s and fitted in a quick wax of all the relevant bits. Last night had been spontaneous and passionate, and she hadn’t given a damn that her bikini line wasn’t exactly neat. However, she wasn’t going to be caught out again.
Justin had sent her a text earlier. He had booked them in for a meal at a new restaurant that had been opened by a double Michelin-starred chef and told her to dress up as much as she wanted. So she had. Instead of her serviceable plain bra and panties, she’d bought a sheer beribboned matching set and slipped into a form-fitting black cocktail dress that had a scooped neckline, dipped low at the back and barely touched her knees. Disastrously high heels and a squirt of Chanel No. 5 and she was ready. She’d bought the perfume earlier. She used to wear it when she was a girl, filched from the huge bottle Louise kept on her dressing table. That was a long time ago but also seemed like yesterday. For then, like now, she’d worn the perfume for one person: Justin.
Justin had an apartment by the new marina and had said they could meet for a drink there first. She’d taken a cab. These shoes weren’t meant for walking. Their purpose was to look fabulous and to stroll from a taxi to sit at a dinner table. She made her way to the penthouse apartment as directed. Her stomach lurched, and there was a tension, an awareness of heightened sensitivity she couldn’t explain. Her life had been on a set path for a long time. She hadn’t expected her feelings for Justin to still be there, and she had to try and work out what it meant for her, for them and the future. The question was would that future be shared or apart?
Justin opened the door on the first knock. His eyes raked her body with a burning light that sent heat rushing through to her core. “You look beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. Come on in.”
“You don’t look too shabby yourself.” He was wearing a blue suit and an open-neck shirt. He looked edible. She followed him into a huge open-plan living space. The furniture and appliances were modern, sleek and elegant. But it was the walls made of entire sheets of glass that took her breath and drew her in. The panoramic view was of Elizabeth Castle to the left, across the expanse of the sea straight ahead and the marina and town to the right. The sun was dipping past the horizon, and a fiery blaze lit the sky. Justin gestured to an open glass door. “Come on, let’s sit on the balcony.”
He was very well prepared. A small table held a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two flutes. With a practised pop, he poured them each a glass, and Sophie savoured the first sip of the golden liquid, the bubbles dancing in her mouth. “That’s lovely. What a treat.”
&n
bsp; “You deserve it.”
She didn’t know what to say next. Should she mention the night before? Would that be crass? Before she could think of what to say, Justin spoke, “Take a seat. Are you cold? Do you want something to nibble on? I’ve got crisps.”
He sounded nervous; maybe it wasn’t just her. She laughed. “I’m fine.”
She took in the view and stared off to the right, towards the marina. She squinted a little, and the outline of the small boats bobbing at their berths sharpened. “You can’t see Drew’s mooring from here. The private marina is hidden by the jetty. Thank the lord for that. Imagine how awful it would be to be reminded of what happened every time you looked out.”
“Absolutely. Speaking about the future—not that we were, but we could. I mean, I’m going to come right out with this. Last night was amazing. We fit together so well. I’ve waited a long time for you to come back, and I don’t want to lose you again.”
His directness took her by surprise. She thought they’d have this conversation at some point before she left, but not tonight, not right away. “Oh, Justin, I feel as if last night was inevitable and we have picked up right where we left off.”
He looked pale. “Yes, we have.”
He cleared his throat and, looking away, rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes locked on hers. “Sophie, I know this is too soon, but we’ve wasted ten years. I don’t want to lose any more time. Will you move in with me until your sabbatical is over? See where it takes us, and maybe you’ll decide to come back permanently. Will you consider giving us a chance?
Her heart stuttered, and the world faded; the sounds coming from nearby apartments were drowned out by the rhythmic pounding of her blood drumming through her ears; the sky, the sea, everything became a blur, apart from the man in front of her. Two thoughts ran through her mind on a loop; Please don’t let this be happening; I’m not ready was swept away by the heartfelt prayer, This is what I need; I need to come home.
Her words stuck in her throat. She didn’t know what to say. A tiny prickle of doubt nagged at the corner of her mind. Was this indeed too soon?
Blood On The Rock: Treachery, desire, jealousy and murder (A Jack Le Claire Mystery) Page 20