She pulled back from him, smiled and, for a moment, the crazy left her eyes, and it was his Angela who spoke to him. “You’ve made me so happy. I knew I was never good enough, but I tried. I am so sorry.” She pinched her lips and slowly shook her head.
“Sorry won’t bring them back.”
“Oh, not about that. I’m sorry about this.” She stared at him, then a sharp pain brought him to his knees as she lashed out and kicked him. His legs gave way, and he fell to his knees. They were at the top of the stairs. He reached out to grab the bannister and regain his balance. But she grabbed his hands and pushed against him. He flailed and fell backwards, his head battering against the stairs as he tumbled to the bottom.
◆◆◆
Chloe navigated around the side of the studio and into the small courtyard in front of the cottage. Before she could knock, the door wrenched open, and Angela ran past her with a large bag.
“Hey, what’s up? Where you off to?”
“Can’t stop. Bit of an emergency, and I’m in a rush. “
As she ran across the courtyard, Chloe yelled, “Is Rudy here?” But there was no reply.
She turned to Riley. “I don’t know what’s up with her.”
Riley shrugged. “She left the door wide open. Rudy may still be here.”
“Let’s find out.”
The tiny hallway was bereft of natural light, apart from that from the open door. It took a moment for Chloe’s eyes to adjust and to understand what the large shape was at the bottom of the stairs. She screamed. Riley pushed past her and, on his knees, grabbed Rudy’s wrist. He was still for a moment. “There’s a pulse. Quick, call an ambulance.” As Chloe dialled 999, she could hear Riley as he bent low over Rudy’s body.
“Rudy. Mate, can you hear me?”
Rudy’s eyelids flickered.
“Come on. Stay with us.”
Rudy’s eyes half-opened, and he tried to sit up. Coughing, he collapsed back to the floor. He pulled Riley closer. His voice was hoarse, but the words were clear. “Angela. She killed Dad and your mum. She’s gone to the plane. Must be stopped.” He fell back, eyes fluttering closed.
The emergency line was answered, and Chloe spoke as fast as she could. “We need an ambulance. Tell DCI Le Claire that Chloe Marsden says its Angela and she is on her way to a private plane. She’s leaving.” She tossed the phone to Riley. “You talk to her. I’m going after that bitch on the bike. Look after Rudy.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Le Claire’s mobile rang as Dewar navigated through the traffic. He quickly checked. It was the station. “Le Claire here.” He listened carefully. “Thanks. Send anyone in the area to the airport—the private plane check-in. We’re looking for Angela Laine. See Masters and get her description. Put me through to Hunter.”
He tapped his fingers against his knee as he waited to be put through. Why did it take so long?
Dewar said, “Angela?”
“Yes, Chloe Marsden called for an ambulance and said to tell me it was Angela, and she was on her way to the Englebrook plane.”
The irritating music stopped, and Hunter answered.
“We’re after Angela Laine. Get the details for the Englebrook plane and tell airport control not to let them leave. I’m on my way.”
He disconnected. “Put your foot down, flash the lights and get the siren on. And drive carefully.”
◆◆◆
Chloe zigzagged through the snail’s-pace traffic as she headed to the airport. She assumed Angela had taken her car, a bright blue Fiat 500, so it should be easy enough to spot. But that didn’t necessarily matter; all she had to do was get to the plane. Andy would listen to her. He’d been flying the family for years. She could only hope they hadn’t left already.
There was no long wait at check-in for the private passengers. You rocked up, flashed your passport, went through quick and amiable security, sat back and took off. When Jessica met Kurt, it was the one thing that impressed Chloe the most. She was an economy-class girl—still was—and the ostentatious luxury excited and appalled her at the same time.
She looked ahead. Damn. Yet more road works, meaning temporary traffic lights. The opposite lane was closed, the traffic on her side halted by a STOP sign to allow the other side to cross the white lines and get past the diggers and pneumatic drills. She couldn’t squeeze past the traffic. She craned her neck to see what, or who was in front of her. No bright blue Fiat. Tension burned into the pit of her stomach. She stared at the man holding the sign that controlled the traffic, the man who was stopping her from finding Angela. She willed him to turn it around. She chanted in her head. Come on, come on.
She almost missed the moment the sign whipped round. GO, and the traffic was off. No slothful starts in Jersey. She bent and twisted as she threaded the bike past the cars in front. Eventually, she reached the Esplanade dual carriageway, increased her speed to the maximum forty and was off. Angela would have come this way. It was the only way to get to the airport unless you went overland, battling country lanes and minimum speed limits. The traffic wasn’t bad, and she was soon on the airport road. No bright blue Fiat. Then she saw it. A flash of blue as the car turned into the aero club. It was Angela. It had to be. Chloe revved the engine, increased her speed and flew up the road. The wind whipped past; she held tight to the bike. Rudy had taught her how to ride the motorcycle. It was going to help her get that cow, even if she had to mow her down.
She turned into the carpark. The Fiat was parked up. It was Angela’s. She looked across the restricted area and could see the Englebrook plane. Angela was almost at the check-in centre.
She dropped the bike and ran. She was wearing leathers and boots. She ripped off her heavy jacket as she ran, tossing her helmet aside. She called out, “Angel Laine! Stop her!” A few people milled about, and they just stared at her, probably thinking she was crazy. A wild-haired woman in leather trousers and biker boots.
Angela looked over her shoulder and ran to the building ahead. Chloe stopped as a stitch ripped across her abdomen. She doubled over, clutching her stomach. Behind her, in the distance, she could hear screaming sirens. Please let them be coming here. She gulped in air, filling her lungs, and ran on, still holding her stomach as a sharp pain stabbed.
◆◆◆
The tires screeched as Dewar swung the car to the right. The traffic stopped to let them through, responding to the siren. She took the turn at speed but held firm, skidding across the gravel until she righted the vehicle, and headed to the aero club.
Le Claire could see someone ahead, running. “Look, that’s Chloe. I can’t see Angela.”
“I hope we haven’t missed her.”
“There she is. Chloe is gaining on her.”
Angela looked over her shoulder, stopped, turned and headed towards Chloe at speed. “Wow, she can move.” Dewar pointed to the sprinting figure. “She’s still carrying her bag.”
That was odd. Angela was running at full pelt with a holdall over one shoulder. Why?
It became clear a moment later.
◆◆◆
Chloe kept running as Angela backtracked and headed towards her. Her heart pumped. She ignored the stitch—the pain came and went—and her aching legs and kept her mind fixed on one point. Angela.
Chloe slowed as they came within yards of each other; not so Angela. She continued until she was within touching distance of Chloe, who bent her knees and made fists. Chloe wasn’t much of a fighter, but you had to try and hold your own on the small estate she’d grown up in.
Angela called out, “Why are you chasing me? None of this is your business.”
“Why? You’re a murdering bitch, that’s why.”
“What do you care? None of them was anything to you.”
“Really? How about you killed my sister’s husband, for one. But think what you like, Angela. I’ve called the police. Can you see them yet? I heard them. They’re coming to get you.” Her voice held a taunt.
“Piss off, Chloe
. The plane is ready and waiting. All I need is fifteen minutes, and I am out of here. So fuck off before I make you.” Angela stood in front of her, legs planted wide, and her face thrust within inches of Chloe.
“Jeez, Angela. You sound like you’re in the playground. Come on, do your worst. But I tell you, there is no way you’re getting away with this.”
Angela reared back and swung the bag off her shoulder, slamming it against Chloe, knocking her back. Chloe’s arms flailed as she righted herself. “Is that all you’ve got?” Then she laughed. Angela was probably going to batter her, but if it kept her distracted until the police arrived, it was well worth it.
“You better shut that smart mouth of yours.”
“Maybe you better shut it for me.”
Angela snorted like a bull and charged. She grabbed Chloe’s shoulder and swung her around before launching several blows at her head. Disoriented, Chloe stumbled as she brought her hands up in a protective bid. She fell to her knees as Angela rained blow after blow, screaming her rage.
“You stupid little cow! I’d have been in the air by now if it wasn’t for you.”
Chloe tasted blood. Where the hell were the police?
◆◆◆
“Angela. Stop!”
Le Claire raced towards the pair, Dewar on his heels. Chloe was curled up in a ball as an out-of-control Angela punched and kicked, lashing out at the cowering girl. He grabbed Angela and pulled her off Chloe. She was kicking in all directions; her elbow jabbed into his side, but he held her tight, even as she jostled her shoulders, trying to shake him off. All the while, she screamed obscenities.
More running feet. Dewar shouted. “Quick, look after her. Get an ambulance.” He ducked out of the way of Angela’s fists and saw that two uniforms had arrived. His distraction cost him. Angela turned and sank her teeth into his hand. He yelled in pain and released her. She started punching him. He went into a defensive position.
Dewar ran up. “Oh, for the love of—you won’t hit her, will you? Always the gentleman. Good thing I’m not a lady.”
And with that, she took a leap and jumped on Angela’s back.
◆◆◆
Dewar wrapped her legs around Angela’s waist and locked her ankles, her arms in a chokehold around her neck, and hung on as tight as she could. Angela bucked and writhed as she tried to dislodge her. Dewar was slipping to the side, losing her grip, and landed in an ungainly heap. She’d landed on her coccyx, and the pain reverberated through her spine. She rolled to the side and pushed to her feet.
Angela came running towards her. Dewar steadied herself, grounded her feet for support and drew her arm back. As Angela neared, she let fly a brutal punch that hit the other woman across her jaw and spun her around. Dewar followed it with an uppercut, and the look of shock on Angela’s face was comical. Dewar finished with a jab to the stomach. Angela collapsed to the ground.
Dewar bent over and spat out a stream of blood. Shit, she hoped she hadn’t lost a tooth. Mortified, her hand flew to her mouth, and she realised her lip was split open. That wasn’t so bad.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Dewar dabbed at her busted lip and winced at her bruises while Le Claire held the mirror for her and nursed his pride.
“Thanks, does my lip look as bad as I think?”
“Probably.”
“Thanks.” She waited for a beat. “So it was funny when Masters turned up. What a coincidence that he was driving by the airport and was the first on the scene after us.”
He gritted his teeth. “Yes, hysterical.” He knew where she was headed.
“You have to admit it was funny. Angela turned into a ball of rage and was kicking us all over the place.”
“No, she was beating on me.”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t hit her. Lucky you’ve got me around.”
He had to agree. “You do come in handy sometimes.”
“So, what now?”
“Angela will get her due, and so will Daria. She may have been well-meaning, but she is a forger.”
“Sadly, she thought she was helping someone out, with no idea that it was Angela who needed the fakes and not Englebrook.”
“Daria was a better forger, and that level of expertise was needed for the paintings Angela was going to substitute for the sales. Kurt wanted to draw an end to their dealings, and selling the collection panicked her. She knew he’d find out that she had switched the sold Picasso for a fake, and also placed substitutes for the Degas and Stubbs in his own collection—two paintings he hadn’t sold, and so the originals should still be hanging in his gallery.”
Dewar shivered. “Susan had seen the contracts, so she had to go as well. Angela has identified the weapon. It was a paintball gun. She fired small stones at Susan and then, when she was on the ground, hit her with the butt. Next thing, Louise Unsworth-Murphy turns up, and it starts to unravel. Eva was insistent that the collection be valued to ensure there were no more fakes, and Angela couldn’t allow that to happen.”
“I think she would have stopped once Rudy owned the collection, thinking she could control him.”
“That wouldn’t have boded well for Nils.”
“No, she’d probably have had him in her sights as well.”
“She had everything she needed. I guess Nils would eventually have suffered a fatal overdose, leaving Rudy in control of everything. As it was, she stole the drugs he did have to administer to Eva via the e-cigarette.”
“Angela crossed a line that you can’t simply hop back over. She set her own path when she set the tower on fire.”
“Come on. Let’s get back to the hospital.”
◆◆◆
“I wish I’d been there to see you take on Angela.”
She heard longing and awe. Chloe grimaced, even though she was touched by the evident pride in Riley’s words. “I hate to dissuade you. I was more her punch bag. There is literally not one part of me that doesn’t hurt.”
He kissed the tip of his finger and gently placed it against her bruised and swollen cheek. “I can kiss it all better when you’re up to it.”
“I’ll keep you to that. Eva came to see me today. She’s whizzing about in a wheelchair. Richard waited outside, and I got a moment alone with her.”
“You asked her about the quotes you saw when you looked at her business?”
“Yes, and she knows all about it. She’s in cahoots with Richard to make his charges look good value. It’s probably not illegal, but it isn’t moral.”
“Those two are well-suited.”
She took in his grave eyes and sombre face. “I can’t believe Angela did this.”
“Nor can I. I went in the ambulance with Rudy. Seems Angela pretty much admitted everything. She killed my mum because of some stupid contracts. All this tragedy because she couldn’t run her business properly and was terrified to lose what she saw as her place in society. A load of old crock.” His voice caught.
She rested her hand on his. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. The worst thing is Mum and I argued about the land. She thought I was doing it to spite Kurt. Our last words to each other weren’t kind.”
“You can’t beat yourself up about that.”
“No, but I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life. I accused her of having an affair with Kurt. I didn’t mean it. I was spiteful. Turns out she did have something going on with him at some point. That’s something I can’t get my head around.”
She pulled him into a bear hug and winced. “Oh, that hurt.”
“You’re in the right place. When will they discharge you?”
“The nurse has gone to get me some painkillers. They said I could go soon.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.” The friendly nurse was trying to look stern and failing. “I said you could leave once I knew you wouldn’t be on your own. You should have someone to keep an eye on you.”
“Don’t worry. I can stay with my sister.”
Riley smiled. “The nurs
e said you should have someone to look after you. Jessica may not exactly fit that bill. But maybe I do. You can stay at my place, or Khan and I can come to you.”
“I don’t think I’m allowed pets.”
“Mine it is, then. We’ll swing by your place and get some of your gear.”
She ached, even her teeth hurt, yet she hadn’t been so happy in some time. “Sure. That’ll be great.” She hoped she sounded nonchalant, but she feared she came across as over-eager.
The nurse shooed Riley towards the door. “I need to do a final check, so you need to wait outside. I’ll call you when Chloe can leave.”
◆◆◆
Riley wandered into the waiting room. He needed coffee. The machine stuff was probably dire, but it was better than nothing. He fumbled in his pocket for change. Nothing. He moved to walk away.
“Hello, Riley, let me buy you a coffee.” Sara Balfour handed him some change.
“Hi, Sara, how are you? That’d be great. I don’t have any money.” He fed the coins to the machine and got a black Americano in return.
“I’m sure you had more on your mind. Thank you for helping Rudy. I heard you in with Chloe. I hope she’s okay. I was going to say hi to her before I see Rudy, but I didn’t like to disturb you.”
“She’s getting out soon. She’s staying at my place until she’s a bit better, but I’m sure she’ll be at the manor to visit Jessica.”
He’d never had much to do with Sara. Before she remarried, she’d been a distant figure, and before long she’d moved to the UK to be with Balfour.
He indicated the seats. “I’m going to wait over there.”
To his surprise, she asked, “May I join you? I’d like a word.”
“Of course.”
“I heard that the police found a letter Susan wrote Kurt.”
Blood Rights (A Jack Le Claire Mystery) Page 28