#
Several hours later and Ana was glad of the distraction of work. She’d typed up some handwritten notes, made several flight bookings and was finalising her boss’s travel schedule for a trip to Switzerland when there was brief knock on the study door and Elizabeth walked in, followed by a young man. He was tall and tanned with thick blonde hair that curled over his collar. He carried a huge bouquet of cream and pale pink flowers.
“Ana, this is Ben Travers. He’d like a word.”
Ana was puzzled. She had no idea who he was.
“Miss Zielinska, I’m Aidan Gillespie’s business manager. Actually, I’m his cousin as well. Aidan asked me to find you and offer his apologies. He sends these flowers with his regret that you had such a distressing experience.”
She took the flowers and looked around, trying to work out what to do with them. Elizabeth took them from her. “I’ll pop these in a pretty vase for you. They’ll look gorgeous on your desk. I’ll leave you to have a chat, but shout if you need me.”
Ben Travers said, “It must have been a terrible shock for you to find that poor guy.”
“It was. He was my cousin.”
His mouth dropped open. “Christ, I’m sorry. We had no idea. Did you know he was going to be at the party?”
Ana briefly closed her eyes. “No, it was completely unexpected.”
There was an uncomfortable pause in which neither seemed to know what to say next. The quiet was broken by the sonorous chimes of the grandfather clock that dominated the corner of the room. Ana glanced at her watch. “I’m afraid I need to go now. My bus is leaving soon.”
“Where are you off to?”
“St Aubin. I better hurry.”
Ben held up his hand and shook his car keys. “I’m headed into town. I can drop you off on the way.”
She thought of the heavy backpack. “Sure, that would great. Thanks.”
Once ensconced in the passenger seat of his low-slung sports car, she sank into the butter-soft leather, inhaling the unmistakable smell of money. As the engine roared to life and they exited onto the lanes, Ana grabbed her hair in one hand to keep it from blowing in the wind.
Ben asked, “You been in Jersey long, Ana?”
“About six months. My mum was a Jersey girl but moved to Poland with my dad.”
“I wondered why you don’t have a strong accent.”
“Mum would speak to me in English and my dad in Polish. I got used to switching between the two.”
“You have brothers and sisters?”
“No, I came along just as they’d given up hope. I guess being an only child is why I gravitated to Scott so much.”
“I am sorry about your cousin. It is so weird that it was you that found him. What a shock, especially as you weren’t expecting to see him at the party.”
“Yeah, I mean, he knew I was working there on Saturday. He was teasing me. Said I’d soon be earning as much as him if I kept taking extra jobs.”
Suddenly, she realised they were nearly at her aunt’s house. He was a bit too easy to talk to. “We’re here.” She pointed to a narrow turning. “Just drop me there, please.”
Ben popped the boot and handed her the heavy rucksack. “Whoa, what have you got in there?”
“It’s a long story. Thanks for the lift.”
She walked away but stopped when Ben called her name. “Ana, I’m sure this is inappropriate, and the timing isn’t great, but could I take you out for a drink sometime?”
She was surprised, and a refusal was on her lips when she held back. It didn’t seem to be her speaking as she said, “Sure, okay.”
“Great, what’s your number?”
She reeled it off, and he keyed it straight into his phone.
“Bye, Ana, see you soon.”
She turned and walked down the lane. Looking back, she saw he was leaning against his car, watching her. She waved and carried on to her destination-one she wasn’t looking forward to reaching.
#
Ben watched Ana walk away. His eyes lingered on her figure, neat in her dark dress. He checked his watch. His newest gadget was also connected to his mobile phone. He pressed speed-dial, and the call was answered immediately.
“Well, what happened?” As usual, he was straight to the point.
“I don’t think she saw anything. However, it seems Hamlyn was her cousin.”
“What? I don’t like that at all. It seems too much of a coincidence. You took your time.”
“I gave her a lift. She wanted to be dropped off in St Aubin.”
“Hamlyn’s parents live there. She must be visiting them.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her.”
The snort came through loud and clear. “Yeah, I’m sure that won’t be a hardship for you.”
As he hung up, Ben rued, not for the first time, the places his work took him.
#
Ana didn’t have far to walk. Her aunt’s home was the first in the terraced row, the walls washed in palest shell pink, contrasting with the blue-painted window boxes overflowing with multi-coloured geraniums. She rang the bell and waited. Her stomach twisted at the thought of what awaited her on the other side of the door. She saw a slight movement at one of the downstairs windows as a curtain twitched.
Charles opened the door. Ana neither liked nor disliked her uncle-by-marriage. She simply didn’t know him. He was a man of few words, and most of them were put in his mouth by his wife. His eyes were dull, his complexion sallow and, if possible, he seemed to have aged a decade or more since Ana had first met him a bare six months before.
“Charles, I am so sorry about Scott.”
“Thank you. You better come in.”
He shut the door behind her and, to her surprise, pulled her into a tight bear hug. “I know how fond you were of each other. You were very dear to Scott.”
Ana cut to the heart of her visit. “How is she?”
“Ah, not good. Sarah is sleeping at the moment.”
A voice shouted down the corridor. “I am not bloody sleeping. I just don’t want to speak to anyone. I don’t care who it is.”
Ana’s gaze shot to Charles. Sarah Hamlyn never swore.
He called back. “It’s Ana, dear.”
She winced as quick footsteps came thundering down the corridor, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. Sarah was dishevelled and unkempt; her hair an un-brushed mop and her eyes red-rimmed. Her voice was harsh, the words spat out. “What do you want?”
“I’ve been trying to speak to you on the phone. I came to say I am so sorry about Scott. I want to know if I can help?”
The laugh was derisory. “You? Help me? Doing what?”
Waves of anger radiated through the room, and Ana backed away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things worse. I shouldn’t have come.”
“No, you shouldn’t. We don’t need you. We don’t need anyone, just Scott. Oh Christ.”
At that, Sarah stumbled and fell, hard and heavy, against the wall. She leaned against it, tears falling as she sobbed.
“Sarah, Aunt Sarah…”
Her aunt’s voice was quieter, laced with weariness. “Just go, Ana. I don’t want you here. Your mother knew better than to come back. She said she’d teach you that as well, but she failed. You’re not needed. Just go.” Her aunt’s voice ended on a whisper. “Please leave us alone.”
Ana didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Her throat was burning and her eyes stinging. She hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder and opened the front door. Looking back, she saw Charles standing beside his wife, not touching her, not even looking at her. He just rubbed his hands together in a rhythmic motion, as if trying to work out how to navigate through these unknown waters.
Ana pulled the door tight behind her, but it wasn’t enough to blot out the howls of grief that echoed through the door, the windows, even the walls and followed her down the path.
#
Charles Hamlyn stared at his wife. Her shoulders were shaking, and her breath came in huge, messy gulps. Her skin was blotched and her colour high, but it was her eyes that told everything. They were blank, dead pools. She looked at him but seemed to be staring through him, past him.
He wanted to hold her, give comfort and perhaps even gain a measure of that precious commodity himself; to feel her living body in his arms, to be reminded that the world still turned, even though their place in it was being played out in slow motion.
“Sarah, come here.” He reached out, laid his fingers on her arm, but she pulled back as if scalded by his touch. He felt the reaction like a spear to the heart and was surprised that his stomach contracted as if suffering from a blow. Perhaps it was. A rush of anger surfaced, and he couldn’t dampen it. “Sarah, I’m suffering too. Can we at least grieve together? He was our son.”
Her sobs quietened. She was still slumped against the wall and, using one hand, pushed herself upright and stood before him. “No Charles, he is our son, not was. He was my life, my joy, my pleasure. He was the reason I felt my life had meaning and now that he is gone, I am broken, absolutely broken. I don’t want you or anyone else near me. I need to be alone.”
He told himself it was the grief talking. His wife had a way of spitting out her anger that he had long become accustomed to, and so he refused to feel upset or belittled by her words. At least that was what he told himself. “I think you made that abundantly clear to Ana. Why don’t you like the girl? Scott was enamoured of her. Surely, that’s what matters.”
“Scott was too nice for his own good. We didn’t ask her into our lives, didn’t want her to come here. There is nothing in Jersey for that girl, and the sooner she realises that, the better.”
Her bitter words made him ache. Would Sarah ever let him in fully?
“She is family, Sarah. I will be asking Ana to attend the funeral and sit by us.” He held up a hand to halt his wife’s words of refusal, and when he spoke, he could hear the ice in his voice. “No buts, Sarah. We will do the right thing. After that, you never have to see her again if you don’t wish to, but we will behave properly at Scott’s funeral.”
His wife nodded and turned away from him again.
Chapter Nine
Le Claire sat alone in his cramped office, far enough away from the madness of the incident room to try and hear himself think as he read the initial report from the Home Office pathologist. The specialist had arrived in the island by Sunday lunchtime and carried out the autopsy immediately.
No fluid was found in Hamlyn’s lungs. It was highly unlikely that he had drowned. The pathologist’s finding was that he had died the instant his skull had smashed against the pool tiles.
He returned to the report, skimming some of the more technical details. He was scanning the next page when his attention was arrested. Hamlyn had a black eye, bruising on the ribs and broken skin on his knuckles. He had been in a fight, but the injuries were several days old, certainly earlier than the date of his death.
So Scott Hamlyn had at least one enemy; he just had to find out who. Plus, his laptop was missing. They’d need to check his office work space, but it just seemed odd that a long-term habit changed and Scott decided to take his laptop out of his apartment just before he was killed.
The door to his office burst open, and Dewar breezed in, several sheets of printer paper in hand. “I’ve got the security checklist from Gillespie’s party.”
“And…”
“It was a bit much for a private bash, even though the governor was there.”
“Define ‘a bit much’.”
“All the guests were identified on a list, and there were guards on the main gate and the side entrance, described as the tradesman’s entrance off Rue du Vert—” Her indelicate snort told him what she thought of that before she continued. “The caterers had to supply names and details of their people coming and going. There was also a random search of those employees. He can’t have been at the party as either a guest or staff. So how did Scott Hamlyn get into the grounds?”
Le Claire stood and grabbed his jacket. “Come on, I need to check something out. I’ll drive.”
#
Elizabeth had insisted that Ana go home after she visited her aunt. She had spent the afternoon lying on her bed, remote in hand, flicking through the TV channels. Nothing could keep her attention or distract her thoughts. She needed to get away from her own company.
Decision made, she jumped up. She’d go see Daria Baklarzska. There was no point in calling, as she never answered her mobile, but she only lived two streets away. Daria rented two rooms at the top of the house owned by the couple who ran the employment agency where she worked. They had organised the employment for Irena and Ana. She didn’t like meeting Daria there because of Daria’s landlord and boss, Basil Davies.
The first time she’d gone round there with Irena, he and his wife, Lena, had opened the front door to the girls, his watery, bloodshot eyes lingering over their bodies. His wife had coldly appraised them before shooing them upstairs to Daria’s rooms. As they had climbed the stairs, Ana had looked over her shoulder and saw Basil Davies staring at them. He must once have been a handsome man, but his face was red and puffed, and his clothes were starting to strain in testimony to a weight gain. Ana hadn’t liked how his hooded eyes had lingered over her, his gaze heavy and his smile slow. Ana had felt uneasy – perhaps even a little fearful. They had run up the stairs, but Ana had looked back as they rounded the corner and had watched in horror as Basil Davies slowly ran his tongue over his lips as his gaze tracked their steps.
Her heart was hammering a little as she rang the doorbell. Please, please don’t let Basil Davies be there. As the door swung open, Ana cursed the gods that no one was listening to her. Basil Davies’s eyes were bright and seemed unfocussed. He must have been drinking – maybe he had taken something else, something more dangerous.
She found her voice. “I’ve come to see Daria. May I go up?”
“Come in, my dear, come on in.”
He didn’t move back, just twisted to the side, and Ana had to squeeze past, holding herself in so that she didn’t have to touch him. She smelled his fetid breath as his mouth skimmed her ear as she pushed past him. He also stank of sweat.
The front door slammed shut, and the light in the narrow hallway disappeared. Basil Davies stared at her; a look she didn’t like was accompanied by a smile she couldn’t ignore. Ana felt ridiculous. Her voice caught as she spoke. “I’ll just pop up to Daria.”
As she turned, his arm shot out and caught her wrist. “She isn’t in. Wait with me. I’m sure she won’t be long.”
Ana hesitated, but she had no option. She would look like a fool if she made a scene. “Thank you, that is kind.”
She followed him into the apartment and felt a compulsion to break the silence. “It will be good to say hello to Mrs Davies.”
His smile was lupine. “I’m afraid you’ve missed her. She has gone to visit a friend.”
Ana considered what to do. Say she was ill? That she had forgotten an appointment? A noise broke into her thoughts. Basil Davies had turned and carefully closed the door with a sharp click that echoed in the silence. He leaned against the door, blocking her way, and motioned for her to sit. The moment was lost, and Ana meekly sat down with a burning shame that she could not speak up for herself. But as Basil Davies smiled, a smirk that matched the calculation and triumph in his eyes, Ana felt fear course through her, each nerve-end seemingly aware of her predicament. She had to say something.
“Mr Davies, I better go. I have friends waiting for me.”
“Call me Basil, and I don’t think your friends will be expecting you for a while. I mean, you came here to see Daria, didn’t you? Here, have a drink.”
He had moved to the large oak cabinet that sat to the side of the door and poured two large glasses of red wine. The bottle was now empty; he had probably been drinking earlier, as
she thought. She took the glass and sipped a little of the wine, then regretted doing so – what if it was drugged? Jesus, her imagination was running away with her.
Basil sat down next to her on the sofa and spread his knees wide, which meant his leg was pressed tight against hers. Ana felt panic rise. A wet, clammy hand landed on her knee, touching the skin beneath her skirt hem, and she almost leapt out of her chair and her skin. Basil leaned forward, his eyes snaring hers. Her mind was a whirl, but one thing was clear. She had to do something. Ana opened her mouth to scream and tensed her body, ready to fight him off, when the apartment door flew open and banged hard against the wall. “Basil, leave the girl alone.”
Lena Davies casually entered the room, a mocking smile on her face. Basil shot upright and immediately moved away from Ana. “Darling, I didn’t expect you back for ages.”
“I can see that.” She turned to Ana. “I assume you came to see Daria. Go on up.”
“But I thought she was out?”
Lena shot a razor-sharp look at her husband. “Really, Basil? No, dear, Daria is getting ready to go out, but she is definitely upstairs.”
Ana placed her wineglass on the table and jumped up and fled out the door. Before it closed behind her, she heard the voice of Lena Davies. “Now what have I told you before? Not in the house! Do what you like elsewhere, but keep your little trysts away from my house, dear. And you stink. At least try and cover it up!”
#
Ana shot upstairs and banged on Daria’s door. When there was no answer, she tried the handle and the door opened. She went in. “Daria, are you here?”
There was a noise to her side, and Daria came through from the bedroom. She had on earphones and was dancing as she walked, her shoulders and hips moving in time with whatever music she was listening to. She stopped still and gasped as she saw Ana and pulled off the headphones. “You shocked me. What are you doing here?”
Ana explained about Scott. “I just didn’t want to be on my own.”
“That is so awful. I can’t believe this. How on earth did he manage to drown in a pool? Was he drinking, maybe?”
Blood Ties: Obsession, secrets, desire and murder (A Jack Le Claire Mystery) Page 6