BLOOD TIES
KELLY CLAYTON
For Drena and Clem,
Mum and Dad Number Two
Thank you for everything
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Jersey, Channel Islands
Scott Hamlyn knew three things to be absolute truths: he was not the most prepossessing of men, his one talent was the law and his entire future happiness – and that of those he loved – depended upon what happened this evening.
His stomach lurched as he crept through the gardens. He had skirted the main house, as directed, and followed the line of the high wall to where it opened onto a courtyard in front of a large granite building, the style in keeping with the ancient manor.
He looked back across the lawns. Lights blazed from the bank of ground-floor windows, and there was a constant thrum of noise from the party. He quickly patted the bulge in his inside jacket pocket. It was all going to be fine. It had to be – her future depended on his next actions.
His back against the brick, he inched around to the doorway. He felt like a fool but couldn’t risk being seen – he wanted no backlash from tonight. He didn’t need any rumours to spoil the future. His hand fumbled in the darkness until it connected with the door handle; he pushed down on the thick metal, and as the door swung inwards, he instantly recoiled from the blast of balmy heat.
The only light in the huge space came from the spotlights embedded in the sides and bottom of the swimming pool, which turned the sparkling water a glittering turquoise. There was a noise to his right, the slap of shoes on tiles, and he spun round. He tried to school his features, but he knew the initial shock of surprise would have been plain on his face.
“I wasn’t expecting you.” He cursed the tremor in his voice, but he was anxious, and it was already going wrong.
The harsh laugh echoed through the pool house. “I’m sure you weren’t, but it’s me you have to deal with tonight.”
“I don’t understand.” Scott shook his head, trying to rid himself of his jumbled thoughts. “Did you send me the message? You’re DarkRider1?”
A bow was made that mocked the situation. “That’s me, at your service.”
Scott couldn’t get his mind to work as thoughts jumped and jarred. “Why here? The place is overrun tonight with the party going on.”
“Indeed, and therefore the perfect place to throw shade on our discussions. Plus, I knew you could get in unnoticed.”
Scott swallowed and cleared his throat. “Okay, fine. I don’t get all the cloak-and-dagger stuff. And I certainly don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
The words were snarled. “All that fancy education, those brains, and yet the simplest concepts are beyond you. My message said it all – ‘I know everything’. Wow, what a scandal if that dirty little titbit gets out. You need to be careful what you leave lying around.” The words were punctuated with a snigger. “That’s the problem with secrets; as soon as more than one person knows, they won’t stay hidden forever.”
“Why are you doing this? What do you get out of my misery?”
“What I get out of it is down to you.”
“Jesus, I don’t even recognise you like this. All you’re going to do is hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
“Oh, it’s deserved all right.”
Scott tried to dampen his rising panic, to no avail. He hated the unsteadiness in his voice and detested the words he had to speak. “Don’t do this, please. Don’t ruin all our lives on a whim.”
“By tomorrow night, the island will eagerly be digesting all the salacious details unless you walk away.”
“Please don’t do this. You know I can’t do that.” He tugged at his collar; the bow tie was digging into his throat, and he gasped in some air to clear the suffocating feeling.
“And we both know, dear Scott, that you’ve got another little time bomb ticking away. What if that came out as well? The family would be completely ruined. I told you; it’s time for you to make some decisions. Walk away from one and you protect the other. Consider what’s important to you.”
“We can work this out. Look…”
He reached into his pocket and stopped in shock as hurried footsteps preceded the quick hands that rammed against him. He took a moment to steady himself. There was no softness in the familiar voice. “Easy! What have you got in your pocket? Don’t be stupid.”
Sweat was pouring off his brow as he stumbled over his words. “You don’t understand. Look…”
He withdrew his hand and held the white envelope in the air, but a violent shove pushed him backward. His leather-soled dress shoes were slickened by the moist heat of the pool tiles, and he struggled to keep his footing. His feet slipped and slid, his arms windmilled. His attacker stood back, no emotion showing. No movement to assist.
The envelope tumbled to the floor, and its contents poured out. Wads of money scattered on the tiles, tumbling into the pool and floating on the surface.
He saw familiar features shift, settle into a feral grin as lips pulled back and teeth were bared. He realised the moment the decision was made, but he wasn’t expecting the punch to his stomach, wasn’t prepared. He crashed to the floor. The last thing he heard was a sickening thud; the last he saw was a well-known, grinning face.
Chapter One
The party was in full flow. Over three hundred people were crammed into the manor’s main entertainment space. The original eighteenth-century ballroom and vast hallway were now modernised with gleaming checkerboard floors, huge abstract candelabra flickering with imitation flames and recessed lighting that cast a flattering glow.
Dinner-suited men and beautifully gowned women mingled, catching up with friends, meeting new contacts and eyeing up the next conquest. The room reeked of money, and the filthy lucre was the reason most people were here tonight. The manor’s new owner, Aidan Gillespie, was a self-made man, and rumour had it that he had made a lot.
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br /> DCI Jack Le Claire of the States of Jersey Police hated parties. He disliked feeling trussed up in a bow tie and constricting wing-collar shirt, and he abhorred meaningless social chitchat as people attempted to show off their wealth and make political friends. Most of all, Le Claire detested being trooped on parade as his father’s supposedly tame little policeman. Philip Le Claire was well-known in the island, had even been a Senator in the Jersey parliament for a while and continued to make money from a plethora of business interests. Le Claire hadn’t seen his father in the hours since they had arrived. No doubt he was schmoozing with the great and the mighty – certainly the rich.
“Jack, for the love of God, put a smile on your face and stop grimacing. Aidan Gillespie has done us the courtesy of inviting us here this evening to celebrate the manor’s renovation; you have a glass of Dom Perignon in your hand and a beautiful woman on your arm. It isn’t a torture to be here.”
His mother’s voice was tinged with habitual exasperation, and Le Claire sheepishly admitted to himself that, as he was here, he may as well stop complaining and just enjoy the evening. “You are, as usual, absolutely right.” He turned to his date. “Sorry, Sasha, I’ll buck up. It is our first public outing after all.”
His wife rolled her eyes and lightly punched his arm, her gaze warm and eyes playful. “Jack, if anyone asks, just introduce me properly – that way we won’t get twenty questions.”
“So I should just say you’re my estranged wife who has finally, reluctantly, agreed to go on a date with me?”
Sasha’s smile was wide and her eyes crinkled at the corners as she laughed; a throaty, sexy sound that caught the attention of more than one man around them. Le Claire felt possessiveness rise as he looked at Sasha – properly looked at her – and saw her through the eyes of others. Her shiny dark hair was swept back on one side by jewelled combs and fell over the other shoulder in a sweep of chestnut-brown curls. She wore more makeup than usual, eyes lined in party kohl, her full mouth emphasised by pinkish lipstick. Her dress was a Grecian affair, draped over one shoulder with an ornate clasp; the pale pink silk hugged and caressed her body. His wife might be devoted to yoga, but it hadn’t diminished her gentle curves, only enhanced them with taut, toned skin.
“You don’t have to tell the whole truth, Jack! Stop being a policeman just for tonight.”
His mother’s voice broke across their conversation. “Jack, Sasha, you remember Caro Armstrong?”
Le Claire didn’t have a clue who the coiffed and primped middle-aged blonde was, but he could play the social game when pushed. “Of course, how are you?”
“I was just saying to your mother that she better be careful with her help. My girl seemed like a dream. Well behaved, intelligent – you know these girls, Polish, Romanian, whatever, come to Jersey to better their English, and they are happy to work as au pairs and suchlike. Well, Katrina seemed to enjoy looking after my two kids, her bedroom was more like a studio apartment and she had every evening and most weekends off. So I couldn’t believe what she did. I just couldn’t.”
It took Le Claire a moment to realise that Caro Armstrong had stopped talking and that all three women were looking expectantly at him. He stepped up to the mark. “What did she do?”
A vicious look wiped any attractiveness from her face. “She skipped out on me. Went away with a boyfriend for the weekend and never came back. She even left some of her junk, and I’ve had to pack it up.”
His mother’s voice oozed sympathy. “Poor you. I’ve heard of this happening before. They either find jobs in London or the boyfriend is a local chap with housing qualifications and a good job. They just run off to their new life without even working notice.”
“You must be careful, Elizabeth, in case that girl of yours runs off. You don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”
Le Claire clutched his champagne glass a little tighter. Jersey had long been a melting pot, with many of the residents having originally relocated from somewhere else. Yet people like Caro Armstrong still had their petty prejudices and easily cast racial slurs.
His mother’s eyes sharpened, and there was frost in her voice. “Ana isn’t an au pair. She is Philip’s PA and a fabulous help to me. She has relatives in the island and isn’t the sort to go running off. She’s a reliable girl. She is here this evening doing some waitressing.”
Le Claire frowned. “Why on earth is Ana doing that?”
His mother sighed and fixed him with a sharp glance. “I swear that you never, ever listen to me, Jack. I told you at Sunday lunch last week. Aidan Gillespie had a meeting with your father and happened to mention he was having issues in getting trained staff for the party. Ana overheard and offered to help. Waitressing helped her pay for university, and young people can always do with a little more cash. It was lovely of her to give up her Saturday to help. Aidan was pleased.”
A twinge of memory floated just out of Le Claire’s grasp. Maybe she had said something. He had argued with his father over lunch and had probably zoned out when his mother had started talking to fill the awkward silence.
Sasha placed a hand on Le Claire’s arm, and he could feel the fire of her touch all the way to his groin. They had never had any issue sexually; it was in every other way that the distance had grown between them.
“Let’s mingle, shall we?” She smiled at his mother and her friend. “Please excuse us.”
As they walked off, Sasha slipped her soft hand into his and leaned in closer. “Thought I better get you away before you exploded. Let’s leave them to their small-minded comments.”
He squeezed her hand, thankful that they were slowly getting back to a normal relationship.
#
Ana’s feet were aching, and wispy tendrils of hair were falling into her eyes from what had started out as a neat bun. She tugged at the neckline of her plain black dress, pulling the fabric away from her hot skin. The air was heavy and humid from the remnants of the day’s heat and the crush of bodies. She checked her watch and saw that it was just coming up to 10:00 p.m. She wasn’t sorry that she’d agreed to help Mr Gillespie, but she hadn’t waitressed in a while, and she’d forgotten how tiring it was. That’s what happened when you spent your life sitting at a desk. She’d be finished by midnight, so she only had two more hours to get through.
“Hey, you, it’s Ana, isn’t it?”
She turned quickly and bumped into the harassed-looking catering manager. The woman had a frantic look in her eye, and Ana could imagine what she was thinking. If she got this night right for Aidan Gillespie, he’d give her more work, and the island’s elite wouldn’t want to miss out on the latest best thing. She’d be inundated with work, or at least that’s what she had said earlier in the evening when she had warned the serving staff to make sure their effort levels were at 110% and that anyone, anyone, who ruined this for her would be bad-mouthed and blacklisted. Ana had wondered how you’d blacklist a waitress in an island overflowing with restaurants and where those with money had to have their parties catered and staff were scarce. Look how she’d been dragged into tonight’s event.
“Ana, are you listening to me? We’ve nearly run out of San Pellegrino in the house, and Mr Gillespie won’t allow any other sparkling water. Be a dear and run down to the pool house for me. There’s loads of Pellegrino in the big fridge as you go in the door. Bring back a dozen bottles, and we can get more later.”
Ana sighed but kept it inside. It wasn’t that far, but it wasn’t that close either. She pasted a smile on her face. “Sure, I’ll go now.”
She slipped out the door and followed the path leading through the gardens. The party sounds grew faint as she hurried in the direction of the pool house; the only sound her ballet slippers as they slip-slapped against the tiles. Small lanterns lit the way, throwing hazy shapes amongst the shadows. As she neared the glass doors, fluorescent light beamed toward her. The pool was lit and cast a watery glow, shafts of light flickering across the walkway.
She pushed down the handle that opened the door, and a blast of heat hit her like a tidal wave, rendering her breathless for a moment. She stepped in and closed the door behind her. The muggy heat was cloying, and she was already covered in a sheen of perspiration. Her dress was starting to stick to her, and she ran a hand around her neckline, pulling the top from her body, letting air circulate. She’d better hurry. She opened the tall glass-fronted fridge and pulled out bottle after bottle of ice-cold water, counting them as she went. A neat dozen and she was done. She had brought a couple of plastic bottle bags with her and quickly filled them.
As she turned to leave, she glanced at the pool. How the other half lived indeed. And to think she had thought her Jersey relatives wealthy. The water glistened, gentle undulations sending shafts of light across the walls and over the ceiling. There was a dark shadow in the far end of the pool. She walked toward it, drawn. The nearer she got, the clearer the shape became, the shadows coalescing into a recognisable form.
She screamed, an involuntary expression of horror. A body, large and male, floated in the shallow end of the pool. “Oh Christ.” Her voice was weak, and she heard it crack as she felt a surge of panic. The body was moving with the gentle waves and bumped against the steps, the water slapping over the edge of the pool. The sound galvanised her into action, and she jumped into the shallow end. The water was hot and lapped around her waist. She waded in the direction of the body and, reaching out, tried to lift the head, cupping her hands under the man’s chin. He was floating on his back, but the head was turned away from her, lolling on one side. Her wading through the water caused a slight swell, and the movement caused the body to tilt and float to one side. The head turned in her direction.
Ana looked straight into a dead man’s face. Recognition made her brain stutter, the images taken by her eyes stopped and started and her thought process faltered as she tried to make sense of what she saw. She opened her mouth and screamed again. One thought ran through her mind on a loop. This couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be him – not him, it just couldn’t.
Blood Ties: Obsession, secrets, desire and murder (A Jack Le Claire Mystery) Page 1