They were now driving parallel to the beach, and Ben carefully turned the large vehicle and parked in a virtually empty car park. “We’d have a job to get parked here in the evening or on weekends. Come on. Good job you’ve got a jacket on. It’s pretty windy.”
They reached the seawall, and Ana held tight to Buster’s leash. The beach lay far below them. They navigated the narrow, foot-polished stone steps that led to the sand. At the bottom, an excited Buster barked and strained at the leash. Ana let him loose and, taking an old tennis ball from her pocket, launched it across the beach. Buster raced after it, his little body quivering with excitement, as Ana and Ben followed. The fine golden sand was firm beneath their feet, and they stopped for a moment and gazed out to sea. The sky was grey and low, as if the very clouds would press down and crush them. The white-tipped breakers rolled effortlessly to crash against the shifting sand.
“I see what you mean about the surfing; those waves look pretty fierce.”
“Yeah, it looks good today. You can see there is someone out there already.” Ben put his arm around Ana’s shoulder and turned her slightly, using his other arm to point straight ahead. Ana saw a small figure appear on the crest of a wave and then disappear as the swell rose. “Those breakers roll in from the Atlantic. It’s spectacular when the surf is up and the place is busy. Some weekends we come down here with a friend’s VW camper, park up, and after the surfing is done, we have a barbeque. Hopefully, you can come someday.”
Buster came running up and laid the ball at Ben’s feet with what could only be termed a hopeful expression on his face. Ben laughed and threw the ball. He linked his arm with hers, and they strolled after a running Buster. Ana wanted to pinch herself. In the time she’d been in Jersey, she’d had a few dates, but the guys weren’t looking for anything more than a short-lived fling. She had walked away as soon as she’d sensed this. There was a transient aspect to certain parts of Jersey life. Ben was seeking Ana out, overtly so, and there could be no other reason than that he wanted to be with her. She hugged the thought to herself as Ben spoke.
“I hate to bring this up. Have the police spoken to you? Have they found out any more about Scott’s death?”
The light mood disappeared as remembrance came crashing down, and she clasped her arms tight around her. Not to ward off the blustery breeze, but to keep her steady and grounded, to stop the emotions coursing through her from knocking her off-balance. She found her voice. “No. I guess they are still saying it’s suspicious until they know more. They wouldn’t speak to me in any event. They would talk to my aunt and uncle, and those two aren’t going to rush to tell me anything, especially after yesterday.”
He looked puzzled. “Yesterday?”
She felt slightly anxious as she remembered her aunt’s rage. “It was my cousin’s funeral.”
“Ah, that must have been difficult.”
“My aunt was undoubtedly upset over Scott’s death, but it was his will that had her enraged.”
“What happened?”
She hesitated, but only for a moment. She knew enough of this island to know that nothing stayed secret for long, and there had been more than enough witnesses to yesterday’s incident to set the gossip mill chattering. “My cousin left most of his assets to his girlfriend. My aunt doesn’t like her, and she kicked off, physically attacked her and knocked her to the ground. It was shocking. I went to help Laura – that’s the girlfriend – and Sarah turned on me. The lawyer who read the will separated them, and the police came. God, it was a nightmare.”
“Poor you. The girlfriend must be upset about Scott.”
“I would guess. I don’t know her that well. She was very quiet at the funeral. It was pretty obvious there was already tension between her and Sarah, and the will was apparently the icing on the cake.”
“This Laura is obviously pretty well-off now. Does she live in Jersey?”
“Not usually. She’s from London, but I understand she’s staying at Scott’s flat. It is hers now after all. She won’t be able to live there permanently, as she doesn’t have her residential qualifications, but I assume she’ll be okay to stay there in the short-term.”
“Where is his flat?”
“By Greve D’Azette, the big granite block. It’s a lovely place, directly on the beach.”
“Hopefully, the girl will be comfortable there; at least that will take her mind off her grief.”
Ana shivered a little. “For sure. I better head back now. I’ve got to finish some travel bookings for the Le Claires’ next trip.”
She called the little dog, who came rushing back, an expectant look in his soulful eyes. She rewarded him for his obedience with a treat, and, leash on, they headed back to the car. Ben’s smile was warm as he looked down at Ana. She really was so lucky to have met him.
#
Le Claire and Dewar had battled their way through the early morning traffic for their first appointment of the day, although appointment might be an exaggeration as they hadn’t been invited and hadn’t told anyone they were coming. At least they had headed out of town in the opposite direction to the traffic coming into St Helier from the west, which was its usual heavy flow.
Now they waited for Aidan Gillespie in a lavishly decorated lounge. He’d obviously hired some fancy interior designer; for the refurbished manor had a decidedly “done” look in all the rooms he had seen so far. The place was filled with antiques, gleaming mahogany sideboards and occasional tables covered in fancy knickknacks
A massive marble fireplace was topped with a huge lavishly framed mirror that reflected the view from the open doors that led to a terrace. Aidan Gillespie walked in from the gardens, very much the well-to-do gent in his rust-coloured trousers, pale pink shirt and brogues. Le Claire wondered if the setting for the meeting had been chosen to display the wealth and importance of Aidan Gillespie.
Gillespie marched to a side table and poured himself a drink from a glass decanter, an annoyed look on his face. The smell of whisky wafted across to them. “What do you want? I was in the middle of an important conference call but understand from my housekeeper that you demanded to see me immediately.”
Le Claire kept his smile to himself. “I simply said that we would wait unless you wanted to come down to the station for a more formal chat.”
Gillespie drew him a black look. “Load of bloody nonsense. Now what is this about?”
“You said Scott Hamlyn did some work for you?”
“Yes, routine stuff, the purchase of the manor and some other bits and pieces.”
“And you were happy with his services?
“Yes.” The monosyllabic reply was curt.
Dewar piped in. “So you were happy with your lawyer but didn’t ask him to your fancy party? Yet I saw from the guest list that you invited your estate agent?”
“Gordon found me this place at a great price. He deserved to be at this party.”
“And Scott Hamlyn didn’t?”
Le Claire stood back and let Dewar get on with it. She was sharp as a tack and had a sly way about her sometimes. It often worked to their advantage.
“No, he bloody didn’t.” He downed his whisky in one.
Le Claire’s voice was even, calm. “And why was that? We know about your problems with Scott, so you may as well just tell us everything.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. He messed up the boundary dispute. His mind wasn’t on it, and because of him I lost access to a nice little spring that runs along the north perimeter.”
“You were annoyed with Mr Hamlyn?”
“Of course, but not enough to kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking. So let’s get past that foolish idea.”
Gillespie’s smile was mocking. He was the king of his castle, with millions in the bank. What did he care, his smirk seemed to say.
“Well, ridiculous as you think it, let’s explore the evening of the party. Apparently, no one recalls seeing you around the time of
the incident. Where did you say you were again?”
“As I have already told you, I had been speaking to a group of guests. Why, I believe your father was one of them. I excused myself as I had an urgent matter to deal with. I re-joined them as soon I had completed what I had to do. Shortly thereafter, one of your men came in with the shocking news about Hamlyn.”
“It was indeed a pretty fancy party, as my colleague said. And, I hesitate to say, an important one for you. Pivotal, one might say, to your future acceptance in Jersey.”
“Careful, your background’s showing – and a privileged one it is.” He sighed. “Yes, it meant a lot to me. I want to be part of this island, and to do so, I need to break into the right circles.”
“Yet your urgent matter was more important to you than ingratiating yourself with some of the island’s elite?”
“You’d know more about them than me, but yes, there was an urgent business matter I had to deal with, and it couldn’t wait.”
“And what was this matter?”
“You can ask, but I won’t tell you unless compelled to do so. It’s a time-sensitive deal where privacy – the buyer’s – is paramount.”
“Very well, but we both know that I can force you to tell me if I do need to know. And I’ll decide if it’s relevant or not. We’ll be speaking to you again, no doubt.”
Chapter Sixteen
Le Claire had called a progress meeting on the Hamlyn investigation as soon as he got back to the station. At the back of the room, they had slotted a conference table and eight chairs, six of which were now occupied. Dewar sat next to Le Claire; Hunter sat opposite him flanked by Vanguard and Viera. Bryce Masters settled himself at the head of the table, and the remaining members of the incident room team were dotted around the nearest work stations.
“Thanks for coming in.” He addressed the crime scene chief and the young doctor. “I just wanted to recap everything we’ve learned to date and see if we can put fresh eyes, and thoughts, on any aspects. We know that Scott Hamlyn was killed at Honsfleur Manor on the night of Aidan Gillespie’s party, but he hadn’t been invited. There was some bad blood there due to what Gillespie believed was Hamlyn’s incompetency whilst working on a legal case regarding the manor. Hamlyn died sometime between the pool house being routinely checked at 17:00 and the body being found at 22:00. There was a load of cash in the pool, and we now know this was taken from Hamlyn’s account. His body had bruising that was several days old, inflicted by his friend David Adamson, after an argument about Adamson’s wife. Hamlyn’s girlfriend, Laura Brown, arrived in the island the following morning. He’d told her he had a business meeting the night before. She inherited his estate and is apparently surprised to have done so. Apart from the cash withdrawal, Hamlyn’s finances seem pretty much in order. Okay, thoughts?”
Masters was first. “I don’t like the look of Aidan Gillespie or his brother. Gillespie Senior is a self-made man, but it isn’t immediately apparent where his money originally came from.”
Le Claire surprised himself by agreeing, a rare occasion with the plastic-looking Masters and his often cavalier approach.
“Okay, look into him further. Anything else?” He addressed the table, and Viera was first to speak. “Cause of death was massive trauma to the head, which was split open on impact with the tiled floor. There is no gender or strength bias in looking at suspects. He could have been pushed by a woman as easily as a man.”
“Except that Laura Brown wasn’t in Jersey on Saturday night. She’d also, presumably, have had to have known what was in Hamlyn’s will. That is if money was the motive.”
Vanguard flashed a wry smile. “Seems to me it’s usually money or sex that’s the root of a lot of the evil we deal with.”
Le Claire nodded. “Yep, that’s the usual.”
Hunter piped up, his face red and his voice breaking a little at his excitement at being part of the team. “Hamlyn was a loner; he racked up hours gaming online. Where did he meet Laura Brown again?”
Dewar commented, tongue in cheek, “Maybe at a gaming convention?”
Le Claire shook his head at the joke as an image of the sophisticated Laura Brown shot to mind. “Very amusing, but it was at a party.”
Vanguard looked thoughtful. “There’s his work as a lawyer. I’ve wanted to strangle one or two in the past.”
“Point taken. We need to go deeper into Hamlyn’s life. I want to know all about him, his work, his social life, finances and his relationship with Laura Brown. We need to know more about her as well. Have the airline records come in to corroborate her timeline?”
Dewar shook her head. “Not yet, I’ll chase them up.”
“I want any loose ends tied up. Hunter, get right into Hamlyn’s finances, look at his expenditure, everything, with a fine tooth comb. Were the cash withdrawals a one-off or has he done this before? Masters, get some detailed reports on the Gillespies. Finally, Vanguard, anything from the back way into the manor?”
“I’m waiting for the results. I’ll come and see you when I have anything concrete. We’ve carted away a fair bit of stuff and are running the analytics.”
“Great. Let’s get on with it.”
#
Several long hours later, Le Claire pushed back from his desk in the incident room, stood and stretched his arms high above his head. He had got through a long day with no real results. He’d talked to people but mainly spent the day hunched over his computer, going over files again, trying to see any leads, but he hadn’t got anywhere.
He noticed that some of the team were huddled around Hunter, and their laughter caught his attention as he joined them.
“Hunter, what are you doing?”
The young policeman was rifling through a plastic bag, next to which was a pile of clothing that looked like underwear and socks. Hunter looked at what he held in his hands, a pair of ladies skimpy knickers, and flushed a deep, dark red. Le Claire honestly thought the boy would self-combust. Dropping the panties into the plastic bag, he said, “We’ve had reports of a cat burglar, sir.” His words were accompanied by a backdrop of sniggers from his colleagues.
Le Claire was getting impatient. “What’s that got to do with a bag of underwear?”
“That’s what has been stolen. My auntie brought it in to me. Said she found all this stuff stashed behind her sofa, and then she saw her cat coming in with a sock in its mouth. She was too embarrassed to go round all the houses and ask if anybody was missing anything, so she asked me to help.”
Le Claire was lost for words. Not so Dewar, who piped up behind him. “We don’t have the time to be dealing with this nonsense.”
Hunter looked at Le Claire. “What should I do, sir?”
Le Claire couldn’t help his grin. “Get someone to take photographs of the garments and post them on our Facebook page and website with a call to action to contact us if it’s their property. Say we’ve caught the offender and post the culprit’s picture. What is the offender called?”
“Tigger.”
“Right, get the admin team onto it and say they can collect their stuff from the station and that Tigger has been cautioned not to do it again.”
He walked away, the laughter floating after him. Dewar was by his side.
“We’re busy. We have others things to do than mess about.”
“Everyone is working hard and is under a lot of pressure. There’s no harm in a little fun to release tension. It’s also community spirit. Plus, Tigger did commit burglary, people lost property and we want to return it.”
Dewar rolled her eyes. “I suppose so. I guess I’m just a bit grumpy sometimes.”
He didn’t say anything as he figured it wouldn’t be in his best interests. He looked at his watch and realised it was gone 7:00 p.m.
“I better get off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He headed back to his office to close down for the day. He guessed he wouldn’t be seeing Sasha. She’d been gone when he w
oke up this morning, and she hadn’t called him. He figured it was down to her to call as she’d been the shouty, angry one. He grabbed his phone and dialled her mobile before he had time for another thought. The answerphone clicked on. He hung up. Then dialled again. This time he left a message. “Hi, it’s me. Just wondered how you were. So…right, then. Give me call when you can. Bye.”
He hung up and slid the phone across his desk. The night stretched ahead of him. He’d grab a takeaway on the way home. He turned off his computer and started storing the papers on his desk in his large cupboard. He had just finished when he heard an unmistakable beeping sound. He had a text message. His heart leapt as he saw the sender. Sasha. He read the words, and a wave of disappointment crashed through him. She was going to St Malo for the weekend with some friends, apparently a last minute decision. She’d be in touch when she got back.
#
Ben was wearing dark jeans and a casual shirt, topped by a leather jacket. Ana had tried on nearly everything she had, which wasn’t a lot, and settled for skinny black jeans and a loose grey chiffon top over a strappy vest. She may not have a wardrobe filled with expensive clothes, but Ana’s hair was freshly blow-dried, flowing down her back, and she’d applied a light makeup that widened her eyes and emphasised her lips. A pair of black courts and a plain black jacket and she’d been ready. She’d stuffed her phone and some precious cash into her coat pocket.
Instead of heading to the waterfront, and the island’s only cinema, Ben advised of a detour. “I’m sorry, but I need to drop some documents to Aidan. I just picked them up for him, and he needs to sign them tonight. That okay?”
Ana nodded in agreement, but she dreaded the thought of going back to the manor.
Tonight the huge house stood in virtual darkness apart from a couple of lit windows on the ground floor. She stayed put as Ben got out of the car. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be long. He bent down and looked through the open car window.
Blood Ties: Obsession, secrets, desire and murder (A Jack Le Claire Mystery) Page 11