The man stepped forward. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Nils indicated the envelope, “There’s £2,000 here. I need a bit longer to get the rest.”
What the hell was going on? Nils was dicing with danger. There could be anyone with this man, waiting in the bushes, hiding by the trees. But she knew Nils needed what he was buying, and he’d ignore his gut feelings to get his fix. She loved him, but he sickened her at this point. His weakness was a disease, but one he could—or should—control.
The man laughed, his features shadowed. “Toss me the money. And you know that’s not how it works. You’ve nearly paid off the debt—that’s a good man. As usual, you have four weeks to get the next instalment, or interest will be added on.”
The man laughed, a mocking sound that broke the silence. “I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks. If you change your mind and want a little something, anything at all, be sure to let me know. You know where to find me.”
“Wait.” Nils walked towards the man, his gait uncertain. “Just give me a little something. I need something on hand for my peace of mind. You can add it on to the rest that I owe.”
The man laughed. “No problem. Here you go. This is new; treat it as a freebie. You may get to like it.”
He pulled a small bag from his pocket, and Nils greedily grabbed it.
From a distance, she could make out the white powder, even in this light. Her stomach flipped as dread took hold. Nils hurried back to the car. No doubt headed home for party time. Chloe sank to the ground, her head in her hands as she rocked back and forth. Nils had promised he was clean. Promised the bad days were far behind him. But he’d lied. She hadn’t thought him capable of that.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Le Claire popped the last of his morning croissant into his mouth, shoved back from the desk and stared at the piece of paper; the mass of numbers merged into one, and it took a moment for the bottom line to become apparent. “Well done, Hunter. So this is Kurt Englebrook’s net worth?”
Hunter blushed a fiery red at the compliment. The young policeman was developing well, but he still betrayed his youth in small ways. “Yes, sir. Susan Jones provided the overview and sent it across this morning. Some items, such as the value of the business, aren’t up-to-date as she doesn’t have that data yet.”
“Luckily, that’s not what I’m interested in at the moment.” He ran his finger down the list of assets. “I want to know what the land and the art collection are worth. I can see the valuation for the art.” He paused as he took in the art collection. “This indicates the collection is shown at the cost paid, which totals £65 million, which is a substantial amount, to say the least. However, it could now be worth a lot more. Where is the value for the land inherited by Susan Jones?”
Hunter leaned over his shoulder and pointed to the section annotated as Jersey property. The first item was the manor, although there were some smaller valued properties listed.
“There isn’t a separate valuation. I imagine it would have been challenging to show it as a percentage of the original cost value from when the property was purchased.”
“Perhaps, but the right-of-way would have devalued the land. Have a look at the zoning. I assume it wasn’t greenbelt land and that the owner was free to build, subject to planning permissions.”
Le Claire checked the amount, which seemed to detail that the manor and all its surrounding land had been purchased for seven million pounds. Englebrook and his first wife had purchased the property over fifteen years previously and carried out significant renovations, so the value would have risen substantially in that time. The irritating factor was that he didn’t have a value for what Susan Jones had inherited. “I need to know if inheriting the land could have been a motivating factor in the death. And knowing the value would be helpful.”
“I spoke to one of the local estate agents, simply as a general enquiry, and they indicated that land of that size and type would be worth up to £1 million with the right-of-way in place. Block the access, and it would be worth much more.”
“Get back to the Incident Room and concentrate on Englebrook’s communications. Check out his email and any social media accounts. Report to Dewar, as she’ll oversee the data collection and profiling. Send her to me when you get back to the Incident Room. Tell her we’re going out.”
Hunter stayed where he was. Hadn’t he heard him?
“Sorry, sir, but you asked me to keep you informed. Elena Fernandez was found at a friend’s house in the early hours of the morning. Seems she was staying away from home to punish her mum for not letting her go to a party. They’re reunited now, and all is good.”
“Thanks. I’m glad.” And he was. But what a waste of police time these runaways were. Or was it? Elena was lucky, but many weren’t. They had to search for everyone until they knew they were safe. It was the only way he could attempt to make amends.
◆◆◆
Le Claire always figured that money and sex were the most common motives for murder. And today he was following the money. Susan Jones lived in a pretty chocolate-box cottage surrounded by fields. They were chatting in her elegant lounge.
She seemed affronted by his last question. “No, I had no idea that Kurt was leaving the land to me. How could I? To be honest, I can’t work out why he did it. Why would he fight everything that Riley was about only to ensure that one day Riley would be the owner of the land they had been arguing about? It doesn’t make sense.”
“You said you had known Mr Englebrook for some time. Could you tell me about your relationship?”
“I worked for him. I’m a qualified financial advisor, and I looked after many of Kurt’s personal investments.”
“And what did that entail?” Dewar asked.
“I looked after Kurt’s liquidity position and make sure he had sufficient cash flow. I was responsible for making sure he was getting a return on his money, whether that was cash on longer-term deposits or we were making investments.”
“Did you have anything to do with his business?”
“No, that was down to Kurt and his sons. The company had its own chief financial officer, Rudy, and so my services weren’t required there. We have a couple of part-time staff who look after the bookkeeping and deal with general admin. This is very much a private family office setup.”
“There appears to be some acrimony between Jessica Englebrook and yourself. What lies behind that?”
She started laughing. “Jessica was Kurt’s mistress when he was married to Eva. She took an instant dislike to me and tried to push me around. I was probably one of the only people who knew he was having an affair. I checked the bank and credit card statements, you see. When he divorced Eva and announced he was marrying Jessica, she tried to get him to sack me. Kurt was clear that wasn’t going to happen, and if she had an issue with me, then she’d better get over it. We had words. I may have said that when a man marries his mistress, he creates a job vacancy. She didn’t appreciate that.” Her smirk said she couldn’t care less.
“Tell me about Kurt.”
“Kurt was great fun to be around, and he looked after those who worked with him. He paid me well over the years and was not shy about giving a good bonus when I’d helped him make particularly good investments. I was always on the right side of Kurt. I wouldn’t have liked to have been anywhere else. He bore a grudge and did not like to be thwarted.”
“You make him sound like a not-very-nice person.”
She puffed out a breath. “Kurt was a powerful man; sometimes, they start to believe their own press.”
“And what did he think about your son? Riley was opposing him in something that apparently mattered a great deal to him. He didn’t hold that against you?”
She bit her lip. “Good question, and one I actually asked him myself. When Riley got involved with the legal case, I asked Kurt if he wanted me to resign. He quickly reassured me that I was too valuable to lose.”
“What are you going to do with the lan
d?” Dewar asked.
She sighed. “I don’t know yet. I guess I could hold on to it or donate it to a charitable organisation. You know, one that could hold it for people to have access to. Or I could sell it.” She paused. “Or I could give it back to the family. I could give it to the boys or to Eva. I don’t know why it was left to me. I just know it doesn’t belong to me, or at least that’s how it feels right now.”
“And does your son know how you feel?”
Her lids dropped as she stared at the floor. “Riley isn’t talking to me right now.”
“And why would that be?”
“If you must know, he finds it suspicious that Kurt left me such a valuable bequest, and we had an argument. He asked if Kurt and I had been more than working partners. Of course, it’s nonsense, but we had an argument. I was offended he could even speak to me that way, and maybe I got a little mad.”
“Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to harm Mr Englebrook?”
“Kurt wasn’t an easy man. But what self-made person is? He built an extremely successful business from nothing. I can’t imagine he would have been without people who felt slighted by him.”
Dewar said, “We heard that he carried a grudge. Was that your impression?”
“Kurt was not a man who easily forgave, and he didn’t like to feel that anyone got the better of him. I have seen him squash people who got in his way. Never illegal, don’t get me wrong, but he would get his revenge, no matter how long it took. Even over petty quarrels with staff who left. He’d prevent them from getting a job with people he knew, things like that.”
“I guess you’re saying it would be easier to list who didn’t have an issue with him.”
◆◆◆
Eva Englebrook may have given up the manor on her divorce, but she wasn’t living too shabbily. She’d shown them into the spacious lounge of her modern beach house. One of those steel-and-glass buildings that were springing up all over the island.
They had refused offers of refreshment, or rather Le Claire had done so. Dewar shot him a disgruntled look. She loved her tea fix, but he was trying to cut down on the caffeine, which was her bad luck.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with us. We did have a few questions regarding your relationship with the deceased.”
Eva raised a brow and waved a dismissive hand. “There isn’t a great deal to say. I married Kurt when I was young and expected to stay with him until one of us died. He had other ideas. Once he took up with Jessica, our marriage was finished. We had our boys in common, and that was that, certainly over the years since we divorced.”
“You mentioned that you weren’t surprised about receiving the art collection as that had been part of your original divorce agreement.”
“That is correct. I started the collection. I’m afraid Kurt was a philistine when it came to art and creative subjects. I taught him a great deal, and he became an art lover if not a connoisseur.”
“And what do you mean by that?” Dewar asked.
“Kurt appreciated having the art around, but I believe he was much more interested in what it actually said about him. Ownership of the collection gave him a degree of the respectability and sophistication he sought.”
“And you agreed that he could keep the collection?”
“I didn’t give my work up easily. It took a great deal of time, research and money to create that collection. But the reality was that I wouldn’t have enough space or the money to maintain it. My husband was extremely wealthy, but he made a substantial amount more since we divorced.”
Le Claire said, “And so the agreement was that upon your ex-husband’s death you would receive the collection?”
“Yes, that is correct.” She sighed. “Kurt and I were on better terms recently, and I had hoped he would change his will to also leave me sufficient money to fund and maintain the collection.”
“But he didn’t. Although he did leave you the house. What will you do now?”
Her mouth pinched in a tight line. “I have somewhere to keep the collection. If I keep the house, that is. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I need to speak to the boys, which will be a bundle of laughs as Rudy is adamant the collection be kept intact, and Nils would prefer to sell it. I haven’t had an opportunity to discuss the house with them yet.”
Le Claire paused for a moment. “This may be indelicate, but the art collection is worth a substantial amount of money, and you would have known for a long time that all that stood between you and a fortune was your ex-husband’s death. Did you know about the house as well?”
She smiled, a bitter twist to her mouth. “No, and I didn’t kill him if that is what you’re asking. I could have cheerfully done so years before, but we were in a different place recently.”
“In what way?”
“The split was a long time ago, and I finally realised I can’t control someone else’s feelings. I bore Kurt no grudge. My life has moved on.”
Dewar asked, “What about Jessica?”
Eva laughed out loud. “Ah, that’s a different matter entirely. The bitch went out of her way to attract my husband, so no, I won’t be forgiving her anytime soon.”
“Very well, we’ll be in touch.”
She was on their list, but could she have committed such a brutal act?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Susan agreed to meet Harry Vautier, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. She knew who he was and what he would be after, but her interest was piqued. Perhaps he would have a clue as to why Kurt had left the land to her. She hadn’t been thinking and had simply acquiesced to his suggestion that they meet at the harbour-side restaurant. It was bright and airy, with no hidden nooks or crannies. She’d always loved lunching here. Occasionally, you’d see one of the famous people who made Jersey their home—financiers, authors and those who’d made their money elsewhere and now enjoyed the profits on the time-warp island where no one was interested in mobbing the rich and famous. They simply got on with their lives. People might suck up to them, but they wouldn’t crowd your gates or stalk you. Well, not unless you were single and in need of a wife. Then those rich boys were fair game. Jessica had chased and caught Kurt, and he hadn’t even been unattached.
Harry Vautier was already waiting at the most coveted table in the bar, right by the open glass sliding windows—comfortably inside yet with a toe on the heated terrace. It was after one o’clock, and the place was heaving. Harry stood up, drawing attention to them.
She slid into the seat opposite and waited until he sat down. “This isn’t the most discreet of places for a chat.”
“It’s perfect. No one will hear us—the acoustics in this place makes the noise into one cloud of chatter—and people will think this is a bit public for anything that should be under the radar. White okay?”
She nodded. She’d got the bus into town and would head home the same way. He’d already ordered tapas plates, and she picked at some type of fried bread-and-garlic concoction. She sipped at the chilled wine as she appraised the man seated across from her. He had the deep perma-tan of those with the money—and time—to follow the sun. He’d made a mint out of the property development game and didn’t seem to be finished yet. He must be in his early sixties and was a barrel of a man with a shock of white hair.
“As I explained on the phone, I know Kurt left his land to you, and I wanted to have a chat; make sure you understand all the options available to you.”
“And they would be?”
“You could keep it, I guess, but what for? Talk is that the appeal won’t get far and the right-of-way will be cancelled.”
“But I own the land. I could give access to whomsoever I please.”
“Yes, you could, but you’ll need money to maintain the tower, public liability insurance in case anyone injures themselves. And then there’s the meadow. It may be covered in wildflowers, but it needs to be tended. Your land, you pay.” He smiled.
She didn’t have that kind of money.
<
br /> “There’s always the other option. Kurt and I planned to develop the headland and build luxury flats, real top-end stuff. The tower would be incorporated into one of the apartments. What a great selling point. And that view. Kurt was supplying the land, with the right-of-way lifted, of course, and I was to supply the development funds and know-how and carry out the building works. Profits were sixty-five per cent to me, and thirty-five per cent to the landowner.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. It was Kurt’s land, after all. And not many building plots come with an ancient round tower. And what about the views?”
“I’m already out of pocket, on architects’ fees and ground surveys. Anyway, I’ll offer you the same deal. I can get the papers drawn up this week. What do you say?”
He obviously thought she would say yes. He’d have guessed that she didn’t have the money to maintain the land and that it would be an unwanted weight on her shoulders. She had a lot to think about. Most importantly, why the hell did Kurt leave the land to her?
◆◆◆
The sisters didn’t look that much alike. Money had polished Jessica to a sheen, while Chloe sparkled with something more natural, softer and carefree. Today Jessica was still, perched on the edge of the sofa, her hands clasped neatly in her lap. Chloe sat beside her, a calm expression on her face.
“How may we help you, Detective?”
Le Claire took the lead. “Now that the initial shock has hopefully passed, we do have a few more questions.”
Jessica inclined her head. “Of course. Please carry on.”
Dewar said, “There appears to be a degree of animosity between you and Mr Englebrook’s ex-wife.”
Blood Rights (A Jack Le Claire Mystery) Page 10