Rough Cut

by Owen Carey Jones

  “The one who killed Rob,“ he began as Gilles looked at him, “Was his death arranged by you?”

  Gilles turned away before answering. “You know it was. You said you wanted him to pay for what he had done.”

  “I meant I wanted him to be convicted of the murder and sent to jail for the rest of his life. Legally!”

  “That would have resulted in him telling the police everything.” Gilles fixed Philippe with a stare as he continued, “Including who he was with at the time. I could not permit that.”

  “So you had him killed?” challenged Philippe, “And now the same people have killed again. Only this time that was not the plan, was it?”

  Gilles shook his head. “No. It went wrong.”

  “It went wrong!” shouted Philippe, “Two people ended up dead!” He looked at Gilles in disgust. “Where do you find these idiots?”

  “Philippe, it went wrong, that’s all,” Gilles responded, “It happens. Sometimes things go wrong. But Henri says neither of them got a good look at him.”

  Philippe turned away from Gilles, his disgust clearly apparent.

  “Which just leaves Jacques,” continued Gilles, quietly, “Jacques could identify Henri. And that could lead back to me. And to you.”

  Philippe’s head whipped round at this and he looked at Gilles fiercely, staring him in the eyes and pointing at him with his forefinger to emphasise his words.

  “You don’t touch Jacques! Do you understand? You leave him alone. He is not to be harmed. No more killing!” Gilles looked at Philippe as he continued. “This business has already cost too many lives. Including that of my grandson.”

  The two men stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments before Gilles looked away. “As you wish. I will take care of it,” he said and headed for the door as Philippe watched him, shaking his head.

  Gilles closed the door behind him as he left Philippe’s house. He paused for a moment and looked back at the door before shaking his head and walking off. As he made his way towards the Place du Marché, Gilles took his phone out of his pocket and made a call.

  When he reached the Place du Marché, Gilles went into the café which overlooks the boules court and ordered a coffee. As he sat watching the boules players toss the heavy boules in the air in the hope that they would land somewhere near the little target ball, Henri approached the café from the direction of the Place des Artisans. When he reached Gilles, he flopped into the chair next to him. He looked at Gilles for a few moments before speaking.

  “Problem?” he asked.

  “Philippe says not to touch Jacques,” said Gilles.

  Henri threw his hands in the air. “So how are we supposed to deal with this then?”

  “I need to think about it. I think I am missing something here.”

  “Well don’t take too long. I am happy to help you make your problems go away but I am not so happy about being exposed like this. We need to do something and we need to do it now.”

  Gilles stared at Henri, his look telling him to hold off and not to question his decision. Henri stared back for a few moments and then stood up.

  “Enjoy your coffee,” he said dismissively, “I will wait to hear from you.”

  Henri walked off, leaving Gilles staring contemplatively at the boules players.

  _________________________

  An hour after Gilles had left him, Philippe, wearing a lightweight grey suit and an open necked white shirt with the collar outside the jacket, was sitting on a bench at the Capitainerie, near the Esprit.

  As Jacques approached from the direction of the Rue Grande, Philippe got to his feet.

  “Bonjour Jacques,” he said, holding out his hand. “I am Philippe Lacoste.”

  Jacques shook the hand cautiously. If Carter were to be believed, this man was in some way implicated in the death of Eloise’s brother, and for all Jacques knew, also in Yvonne’s death. But, if that were so, it made no sense that he would be there. Jacques was puzzled as to why Philippe had been waiting for him.

  “Bonjour,” he answered, “I know who you are, of course, but how do you know my name?”

  “I know more about you than you might think,” replied Philippe. “I would like to talk to you. Can we go on board your boat?”

  Jacques was far from certain that it was a good idea for him to be alone on the Esprit with Philippe but if Philippe was prepared to approach him openly and in broad daylight, then it was unlikely that he had anything sinister in mind. It would probably be safe for them to go on board.

  “Follow me,” said Jacques, leading the way onto the Esprit. He unlocked the glass door to the saloon, slid it open and ushered Philippe in.

  When they had settled themselves at the table in the saloon, Jacques looked intently at Philippe. “Well, Monsieur Lacoste, what do you want to talk to me about?”

  “This is a fine boat, Jacques,” said Philippe, “It was my favourite. Where did you get the money to buy it?”

  “What business is that of yours?” Jacques shot back, wondering why he had been asked the question.

  “Oh, none. I was just curious, that’s all,” replied Philippe nonchalantly.

  There was a few moments pause before Jacques decided to answer Philippe’s question. “My father put some money into an account for me when I was born. I used that to buy the boat,” he said.

  “Tell me, Jacques,” said Philippe, interlocking his fingers and resting his hands in his lap, “Who is your father?”

  Jacques looked down, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “He… He’s…” Jacques struggled to find something to say. “He’s dead,” he blurted out eventually.

  “Really? Is that what your mother told you?” said Philippe bluntly. Jacques looked at him angrily as he continued. “If she did, then she lied to you.”

  Jacques fought to control his temper and Philippe quickly raised his hand to stop Jacques from responding violently. “The truth, Jacques, is that I am your father.”

  Jacques drew back, stunned.

  “You? You are my father? No, no. That’s not possible. My mother would have told me if you were my father.”

  “The money came from me, Jacques.”

  Jacques had always wanted to know who his father was, he was ceaseless in asking his mother to reveal his identity but she had steadfastly refused to do so. He looked at Philippe and when he spoke there was anger in his voice.

  “How could you treat her the way you did?” he began. “You got her pregnant and then you dumped her. How could you do that?”

  At this, Philippe’s mood changed. “You know nothing about it,” he countered. “And, in any case, who appointed you as my judge? It was a very difficult situation for me, for both of us.”

  “I think it was more difficult for my mother,” retorted Jacques sarcastically.

  “Perhaps, but I have always provided for her, and for you.”

  “Oh, yes. Out of your wealth, you gave her enough to live on. But only as long as she never revealed to anyone, not even to me, that you were my father.”

  “That was a necessary condition.”

  “Was it?” Jacques’ eyes blazed at Philippe’s apparent indifference. “If it was necessary to keep your identity a secret for over twenty years, why have you decided to tell me now?”

  “Because now it is important that you know.” Philippe paused and adjusted his position on the seat. “I know I have never been a father to you, but now you are in danger and I want to help you. You must believe me.”

  Jacques’ eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I’m in danger?”

  “Jacques, I know about Yvonne. I know about what has been happening. I know about everything.”

  “How could you know about that?” challenged Jacques, giving nothing away about what he had learned from Carter concerning Philippe’s possible involvement with synthetic diamonds.

  Philippe sighed. “The men who kidnapped Yvonne,” he said, speaking quietly, “they were hired by someone who works for me.”


  Jacques opened his mouth to speak but Philippe raised his hand to stop him.

  “Please! Let me finish,” he said, “I didn’t know what they were doing. They were just supposed to find out who Carter Jefferson is working for and why he is in Port Grimaud, that is all.”

  Philippe paused and looked at Jacques to see if he was accepting what he was being told before continuing. “No one was supposed to get killed. But it went wrong, and that’s the sort of people they are.”

  There was regret in Philippe’s voice and Jacques sensed it. He looked at Philippe and Philippe looked back at him, the remorse now also showing in his eyes. ”I am very sorry about what has happened, truly I am. If I could turn the clock back and change it, I would. But I can’t. And now? Well, now I’m more concerned about you, and your safety, than I am about anything else.”

  Jacques slumped in his seat, exhausted. It was all too much for him to take in; his newly discovered father was admitting to being responsible for the abduction, rape and death of his sister.

  “This is a nightmare,” he said, more to himself than to Philippe as he turned away.

  The two men sat in silence for several seconds before Philippe spoke.

  “Jacques,” he said, “I know this has been a shock for you.” Jacques gave him a disgusted look and then turned away again. “But there are things you need to know. You are in terrible danger. The people who killed Yvonne…”

  “And raped her!” interjected Jacques angrily before looking at Philippe accusingly.

  “Raped her?” Philippe looked ashamed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that. But it doesn’t change what I have to tell you. One of the men who kidnapped Yvonne, he got away. And he knows you can identify him. The rest of them, the other people involved, think that you should be dealt with so that you can’t identify him. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Jacques was impassive, tight lipped, but Philippe pressed on, “I told them no! But I’m still worried that they will come after you. You must get away from here quickly and hide somewhere for a while, somewhere where they can’t find you.”

  Jacques stared at Philippe, uncertain of how to react to what he had said. After a few moments, he decided to voice his thoughts.

  “What a great father you are,” he said acidly. “Missing for twenty-one years, and now that I have found you, I wish that I hadn’t. I wish I had never even heard of you.”

  “Listen to me, Jacques,” said Philippe, “You must take what I have told you very seriously. You are my son, my only son, and you are important to me. I have watched you grow. From a distance, I admit, but I have watched. And I don’t want anything bad to happen to you now. Especially not because of me. That’s why I have come to warn you.”

  Eloise heard Philippe’s last few words as she entered the saloon of the Esprit carrying two bags of food which she had bought at the supermarket. She looked at Philippe and then at Jacques waiting for one of them to speak. Eventually, Jacques broke the silence.

  “This is…” he started.

  “I know who he is, Jacques,” interrupted Eloise, “He’s my grandfather, remember? And possibly responsible for my brother’s death. So why is he here?”

  “But…” began Jacques and then stopped. His brain had just realised something and was trying to process it.

  “But what?” demanded Eloise as she dropped the bags of shopping and put her hands on her hips.

  “Er…” continued Jacques uncertainly, “Your grandfather, is…”

  “Is what? For goodness’ sake Jacques, what are you trying to say?”

  “I’m trying to tell you that your grandfather… is my father.”

  Eloise stared at Jacques for a few moments and then looked at Philippe, disbelief in her eyes.

  “That can’t be true!” she said, her eyes flicking between the two men, “Tell me it’s not true. It isn’t, is it?”

  Philippe got up from his seat. “I was not expecting to see you here, Eloise.”

  “You haven’t answered my question. Is it true that you are Jacques’ father?”

  “Yes, it is true,” Philippe confirmed.

  “But that would make me…” said Eloise hesitantly, her anger quelled by the significance of the revelation.

  “Jacques’ niece, or half niece to be precise,” said Philippe.

  Jacques looked at Eloise; she looked as if she was about to be sick and he got up from his seat quickly as he saw her eyes roll upwards and her knees start to give way. He ran to her side to catch her and gently led her to a seat. She came round after a few moments and stared up at Jacques as he leant over her.

  Suddenly it dawned on Philippe why Eloise had reacted so badly to the news, the reason why she was on board Jacques’ boat.

  “Are you and Jacques… ,“ he began.

  Eloise ignored the implied question, she was in no state to respond and she had nothing to say to her grandfather anyway, but Jacques flashed him an angry and disgusted look.

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea that you two were…,” began Philippe, his bushy grey eyebrows almost meeting as he frowned. “But you are still in grave danger. This other complication, it doesn’t change that.” Philippe got to his feet and headed for the saloon door. “I should leave now,” he said, “but please, Jacques, remember what I have told you. Get away from here, for your own safety. And do it soon!” Philippe straightened his clothes, took one last look at his son and his granddaughter, and left the Esprit.

  _________________________

  The farmhouse where Antoine and Yvonne had died had never known so many people gathered in the small field next to it. Three of the men in the field were carefully removing earth from a small patch where the grass had obviously been disturbed recently.

  Carter and Conrad were amongst the group watching as one of the men who were digging suddenly threw his spade to one side and pulled at an arm which had appeared from the soil. The other two stopped digging and everyone else moved in closer to see what they had found.

  Slowly and carefully, the diggers uncovered the face of a dead body. It was Antoine.

  One of the men watching, a middle aged man of medium height dressed in a suit, was Inspecteur Le Grande of the French police. He leaned over and looked at the body before straightening up and turning to Carter.

  “Is it him?” he asked.

  Carter looked a little closer and then nodded before the two men turned away from the scene.

  “I think we had better go to the Gendarmerie,” said Le Grande, “Then you can tell me everything.” He looked at Carter challengingly before continuing, “And I mean everything.” Carter nodded as he, Conrad and Le Grande started to walk back to the farmhouse.

  On their way back to the Gendarmerie, Carter decided to broach the question that was on his mind.

  “Inspecteur,” he began, “I expect you will want interview Jacques Armand about this?”

  “Yes, we will. But that can wait until tomorrow. For now, all I need from him is a description of the man who got away. I will ask him about that and then I will arrange for him to be watched, partly for his own safety but also so that I know where he is when I am ready to talk to him.”

  “Good idea,” said Carter, happy that Jacques and Eloise would have some protection and also that he would have at least another twenty-four hours before the police became aware of Philippe’s involvement.

  CHAPTER 15

  Eloise was still in a state of shock following Philippe’s revelation that he was Jacques’ father and she stared blankly in front of her as Jacques gently helped her off the seat in the Esprit’s saloon and guided her down the circular staircase to the master cabin. He pulled back the bed cover and sat her down on the bed before pushing her back onto it and removing her shoes. Then he pulled the cover back up over her and she closed her eyes.

  Jacques returned to the saloon and paced up and down wondering what to do. He knew he would have to confront his mother about what Philippe had told him, if only to check if it was true. He decid
ed to go and see her but first he wanted to be sure that Eloise would be all right so he went back down to the master cabin and peeped round the door. She was fast asleep.

  Jacques knew his mother would be pleased to see him despite the grim news he had brought on his last visit but he also knew that she was probably not in a good state to find out that he now knew who his father was.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you again today, Cherie,” said Claudine as she opened the door and Jacques went into the apartment.

  Once inside the apartment, Jacques quickly established that Colette had gone and that Claudine was on her own; that would make it easier for him to raise the subject of his father. He went over to the window and looked down at the canal below pensively, unsure how best to open the conversation.

  “I’ve just had a visit from Philippe Lacoste,” he said, eventually, continuing to look out of the window as he spoke.

  “Really,” said Claudine cautiously, “Why on earth would Monsieur Lacoste call on you? What did he want?”

  Jacques took a deep breath and turned to face his mother. “He came to tell me that he was my father.” Claudine looked away immediately and Jacques took that as confirmation of what Philippe had told him. “So, it’s true then,” he said.

  She turned to look at him, “Yes, it’s true,” she said.

  Jacques nodded slowly, finally accepting that there was no other explanation, no reason why Philippe might have lied about it, that Philippe really was his father. When he spoke, his tone was faltering, shaky.

  “He says I’m in danger from the people who killed Yvonne, that I must get away from here. He says that’s why he told me, because he wanted to warn me.” Jacques fought to hold back the powerful surge of emotion he felt. “Tell me, Maman, did you know he was a murderer when you were sleeping with him?”

  “No! It’s not true! Philippe is an honourable man. He would never kill anyone. I don’t believe it.”