Blood Ties: Obsession, secrets, desire and murder (A Jack Le Claire Mystery)

by Kelly Clayton

  “Morning, Mum.”

  She sat at the scrubbed wooden kitchen table, its scarred top at odds with the rest of the room’s pristine décor, but it had belonged to his grandparents, so he assumed his mother must have at least one sentimental bone. He’d checked the time just before he’d left his flat above the garage. It was 7:30 a.m., yet his mother was already smartly dressed in pressed jeans and an open-neck shirt.

  “Good gracious, Jack. What do you want at this hour?” Her hands hovered over the open magazine on the table.

  “I just wanted to let you know that Ana has had a bit of an upset.”

  “Delayed shock, I expect, after finding her cousin like that. Ghastly.”

  “Last night Ana was…”

  His mother’s look was suspicious, her voice sharp. “How do you know what Ana was doing last night? Oh, Jack, have you been making a nuisance of yourself?”

  “Mum, stop it! Why would you even think that?”

  Her look was malicious. “Oh, I think we both know why I’d think that, Jack. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d been a bloody idiot where a woman was concerned.”

  He flushed but wouldn’t rise to her bait. “Ana was attacked last night and injured. It happened when she was waitressing at a private party. Luckily, one of the guests managed to intervene. She had to stay in the hospital for observation.”

  His mother paled, but she didn’t say anything, just looked at him. “Mum, did you hear me? Ana has been attacked; she’s in hospital.”

  “I’ll have to go and see her, won’t I? Make sure she gets home okay.”

  “I’m sure we can arrange for Ana to be taken to her place.”

  “No, no, I’ll go.” It may have been the light, but he thought her eyes softened for a moment. “Jack, she’s okay, isn’t she? She wasn’t, I mean, was she…”

  “She’ll be fine. She got away before anything too bad happened. She’ll probably be pretty shocked though.”

  “Thank you, Jack. Well, off you go, my morning’s disrupted enough as it is.”

  He shook his head. Who’d have thought it? His mother must have a soft spot for the girl. Maybe she was mellowing in her old age. Her voice called after him. “Jack, I was talking to your father last night. I do hope you aren’t going to keep annoying Aidan Gillespie over that boy’s death. You must know he’s got nothing to do with it. Your father has been having some interesting chats with Aidan, and they may have an opportunity to do a little business together.”

  That was all he needed. Le Claire simply ignored his mother.

  #

  A shocked Ana was settled in Elizabeth’s plush car, being driven home. The older woman had swept into the hospital, demanded she be told all about it, barked at a few doctors and the paperwork was signed for Ana’s release. Ana had been told that she had a sprained ankle that would need to be rested for a couple of days; some antiseptic salve had soothed her feet and soon any pain would disappear. It would take longer to get the image of the attack out of her mind, to remove the vivid pictures that thrust to the fore every time she closed her eyes. Her employer’s cultured voice broke the silence.

  “It is lucky that chap got you away from that disgusting lecher. Odd that they were wearing masks though. Makes it all the more difficult to catch him.”

  She shivered as an icy chill of fear took hold. It would be nigh on impossible to recognise her attacker. She could walk past him, be standing next to him, and would never know. The car slowed, and she realised the short journey was at an end. She pointed to a three-storey terraced house. “I’m in there. Thank you so much.”

  Before Ana could unbuckle her seat belt, Elizabeth was parked up and out of the car, holding the door open for her. “Come on, I’m not just dumping you on the pavement. I’ll see you inside.”

  Ana’s heart sank. She didn’t want anyone, especially this woman, to see how she lived. The house was owned by a middle-aged divorcee who rented out rooms to single girls. She currently had three other lodgers in addition to Ana, who had been there the longest. There was a never-ending troop of new faces as the girls either found somewhere better to live or moved back to wherever they came from. The place was clean but the decor dated, and, for a reason she couldn’t fathom, Ana was ashamed for anyone to see how she lived. The front door would be far enough. She hobbled up the path and, key in hand, turned to say good-bye to Elizabeth, who reached out, took the key and ushered an astonished Ana through her own front door.

  “Right. Where’s your room?” The voice brooked no nonsense, and a defeated Ana simply gestured for her to come upstairs. She held on to the unpolished banister, putting the weight on her good ankle as she limped upstairs. She stopped at the first door in the long, dark corridor and pushed it open. She kept her voice light and cheerful to hide the dismissal. “Thank you, I appreciate the ride home.”

  The older woman wasn’t listening. “Come on, let’s get you settled. You need to rest.”

  Ana had no option, and she held back a sigh as she reluctantly let Elizabeth follow her into the room. She quickly glanced around, grateful she had made the bed and tidied up before she had gone to work the evening before. She saw Elizabeth’s eyes scan the room, and the blinkers of familiarity fell off; Ana wondered what she saw. A small single bed pushed against the wall beneath the room’s one window. A cheap wooden wardrobe, chest of drawers, low bedside cabinet and a lone armchair took up the rest of the space. Ana spied the strap of her backpack peeking out from under the bed. She quickly bent down and pulled it free, opening the top zipper and rummaging inside. Everything was still there – passport, money fold and the plastic wallet with her important papers.

  “Ana, are you okay? You looked a little panicked for a moment.”

  “Yes, I’m good. My door doesn’t have a lock, so I was just making sure that my stuff was okay.”

  “Ah, I wondered why you carried your backpack with you all the time.”

  There was a silence then, which Ana didn’t know how to break. She knew she shouldn’t be ashamed of where she lived, but it was all she could afford whilst she saved up a deposit for something better. Scott had offered to loan her money, but she’d refused. Her parents hadn’t left her much. Academics weren’t exactly renowned for high salaries, but the little she had in the bank was there for an emergency, not to pay rent.

  A voice at the door had them turn around. “Morning, Ana. Your week’s rent was due yesterday. Did you forget?”

  The words were pleasant enough, as was the tone, but her landlady’s face, with its sharp features and habitual pinched expression, rendered the words a challenge.

  “Oh, I am so sorry. Yes, I forgot. I’ll get it now.”

  “Good, because you know I’ve a waiting list for girls who’d love this room. I could rent it to someone else in a snap.” Her eyes rested on Elizabeth, and her landlady’s next words made Ana cringe. “I don’t know who you are, but you’ll have to leave. I don’t allow anyone in the girls’ rooms.”

  Ana momentarily closed her eyes as she saw Elizabeth raise one perfectly arched brow. There was going to be trouble.

  #

  Le Claire had run through the night’s events to an increasingly incredulous Dewar. Any minute now her jaw was going to drop open.

  “I can’t believe it. Is Ana okay?”

  He shrugged. “I hope so. What she went through wasn’t pleasant, but it could have been a great deal worse. The guy was a real piece of work, and he was making his intentions clear. I dread to think what could have happened if I hadn’t been there.”

  “How did she end up working at the party?”

  “She was in no state to be pressed last night. I’m going to go and see her now to find out. You should come with me. At least I know she won’t be going anywhere. My mother was collecting her from the hospital and will have taken her straight to her home.” Out of familial loyalty, Le Claire didn’t mention that his mother didn’t usually take no for an answer, so s
he would have taken Ana home and probably barred her from leaving.

  “Have we found out who owns the property?”

  “I got Peterson to do a run on the title records. The owners are a Geoff and Tina Black. The place doesn’t look habitually occupied, the fridge and freezer were empty and turned off, little things like that. I’ve sent Hunter up there to see what he can find out.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll call my mother and make sure she dropped Ana off okay.”

  The shrill tone of his phone butted in. He looked at the caller ID. “Speak of the devil.” He answered the call with a “Hello, Mum.”

  It took a minute for the words his mother spoke to sink in. Then he thought he must be hallucinating. She couldn’t have said what he thought. His “Why did you do that?” was met with a rejoinder that he mind his own business. He found himself saying yes to his mother’s last request just before she disconnected the call.

  Dewar must have guessed something was up from his tone, stance and expression. “You okay? You look a bit shocked.”

  “It’s my mum. Apparently, she took Ana to her place, didn’t like the look of it, so she packed Ana’s stuff up and she’s taken her home with her.”

  “Ana has moved into your spare room? Your mum must have a good heart.”

  He didn’t know where to begin with the comment about his mother. Best not to respond. As to the one about the spare room, he didn’t want to go there. “I’m going to have to drive back to my place and interview Ana. There’s no need for you to come.”

  Le Claire felt uncomfortable. As soon as he heard what his mother had done, he had every intention of sloping off home to see Ana – alone. He didn’t want Dewar to accompany him and see where he lived, stupid as that was. She would have heard the talk about his background, but seeing was an entirely different thing.

  “My mother is refusing to have Ana interrogated – her word, not mine – until she is rested up. I was thinking I’d head up there in an hour or so, but I thought you had a meeting scheduled with the financial guys around then?”

  Dewar beamed. “I do, but they’re flexible time-wise, so I can probably catch up with them when we get back. Now I can go with you.”

  Le Claire’s smile was automatic, but inside he was grimacing. He just hoped his mother was in a good mood and on her best behaviour.

  #

  Le Claire felt himself tense as he flicked the indicator at the turn into their private lane. “Right, nearly there.”

  Using his zapper to open the gates, he navigated up the drive and parked in front of the house. Dewar’s eyes were like saucers, but she said nothing. He hurried out of the car. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  The front door was unlocked, as usual, and he walked straight in, Dewar following. “Mum said they’d be in the kitchen. I can hear them.” There was a low rumbling of voices from the end of the hallway, and they entered the spacious kitchen, finding his mother and Ana seated around the table. “Ana, Mum, this is DS Dewar.” Ana looked pale and tired but unharmed. “How are you?”

  “I am fine, honestly, just a bit bruised from where I fell, and my feet are sore. I dread to think what might have happened…” Her voice tailed off and she shivered.

  Before he could speak, his mother jumped in. “I can’t believe the poor girl had to run in her stockinged feet. Have you arrested the vile beast who attacked her?”

  “Afraid not, we’re here to find out a bit more.”

  “Well, we can’t have people like that running about the island. It’s just not on.”

  “Mum, perhaps you could let me interview Ana and get on with my job.”

  She huffed, pursing her lips, but eventually stood. “Very well, I’ll be in the study. Ana, don’t let him bully you. Dewar, it’s nice to meet a colleague of Jack’s. You’ll have to come for afternoon tea sometime.”

  Dewar looked taken aback and slightly horrified. “Err, sure, thank you.” Her face said, Oh please, no.

  Le Claire waited until he heard the study door open and close. He sat down opposite Ana; Dewar slipped into the seat beside him. “Ana, we went back to the house last night, but there was no one there, and it had been given a thorough cleaning. The place stank of disinfectant and bleach, so it looks like they were trying to get rid of anything that could identify anyone. Can you tell me what you know? Who employed you and what you know about them?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. My friend set the job up for me weeks ago. Just said I was to wait at Liberation Square and a minibus would pick me up and to look smart and wear black. That I was to be discreet and ignore anything I saw. I needed the extra money. She said I’d be paid, and very well, at the end of the night.” Her smile was wan as she joked, “All that hassle and I didn’t even get my wages.”

  “Okay, fine. Can we have your friend’s details? We’ll need to ask her what she knows.”

  “I can give you her mobile number, but she is not answering. She’s left Jersey, and I haven’t heard from her. Her name is Irena.”

  Ana recited the details to Dewar.

  Le Claire said, “So you didn’t recognise anyone there. Did you speak to any of the other staff?”

  “There was no time. When I got on the coach, the manager – she said to call her Betty – said we were to make sure the glasses were filled and hand round food. She was very strict that we had to be gone by midnight. The rest of the time she just instructed us what to do.” Ana shook her head. “I can’t believe she just left me there.”

  “The man who attacked you, did you recognise him at all?”

  “No. His mask covered most of his face, and it all happened so fast.”

  Le Claire didn’t reveal that it was the woman in the red dress that had sent the man after Ana. “Did you recognise anyone at the party?”

  “No, I was just serving the drinks, so I didn’t look at anyone. In any event, everyone except the serving staff were masked. I didn’t like it there and didn’t want to draw attention to myself.” She shivered, a look of disbelief on her face. “But that didn’t work out too well. I am so grateful to you. I mean, if you hadn’t come…”

  Dewar reached out and patted Ana’s hand. “You’re safe now, and, luckily, the worst didn’t happen. Would you like to speak to someone about this? We can arrange that.”

  Ana shook her head. “No, thank you. I just want to forget it. The only thing that freaks me out is that I don’t know what he looks like. I mean, maybe I do know him? I could meet him again and I wouldn’t even recognise him.”

  Le Claire stood. “I’m sure it was a one-off, an opportunist taking advantage of the situation, but be vigilant. Call us if you see anything or anyone you’re uncomfortable about.”

  Dewar handed out her card, and the two moved to the door. “Mr Le Claire? I mean, Detective,” Ana looked at the table, played with the card in her hand, “I am sorry about this, about me being here.” She waved her hand around the room. “Your mum had a bit of an altercation with my landlady. Said it was a disgrace and she wouldn’t let the dog live there. She insisted I move in here, said it would be handy on the days I wasn’t in the town office. She made me give my notice to the landlady, and next thing I knew my things were in the car, and here I am.” She shook her head, and he recognised the look of bewilderment. His face had often worn the same expression until he’d grown to manhood and was more able to handle his mother’s controlling tendencies, or at least ignore them.

  His voice was gentle. “Ana, this is my mother’s home. She does what she wishes, and I don’t have any objection to you being here, none at all.”

  She smiled, and her furrowed brow relaxed. Trust his mother to bully and push, even as she was doing a remarkably kind thing. He pushed open the kitchen door, stopped and turned back to Ana. “Your friend, Irena. Where was she working?”

  “For a Mr and Mrs Adamson. She was the au pair.”

  He aimed a look at Dewar. This island got smaller by the day.

&nbs
p; Chapter Twenty-Three

  Le Claire and Dewar arrived back at the station; he excused himself and withdrew to his office. The small space suited him. Here he could close the door, shutting out his colleagues, his partner and any other distractions. The whole force was getting ready to move to a brand new purpose-built police headquarters at the other side of town. They were promised all mod-cons and plenty of space. He just wished for a small, quiet room, tucked away in a corner. Just like he had right now.

  He checked his watch. Blair was due in soon, and they had a meeting scheduled with the chief to run through the events of the night before. That gave him time to focus on what they’d learned so far about the Hamlyn case, which, admittedly, wasn’t much. His door opened, the noise jarring in the Saturday quiet. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone for five minutes?

  Before impatience could take hold, he smelled the distinctive aroma of roasted coffee beans. Someone had come bearing gifts. Or at least he hoped they had. The door was shouldered wide open, and John Vanguard, the head of the CSI unit, clumsily entered holding a cardboard coffee cup in each hand, grande size, a paper bag clutched between his teeth and a plastic file folder tucked under his arm. He kicked the door shut behind him, handed Le Claire a coffee, placed his own on the desk and liberated the bag from his mouth. He placed this on the desk and opened it. The aroma of fresh-baked pastries turned his office into a fancy French patisserie. Breakfast was a distant memory, and he hadn’t eaten lunch.

  Vanguard smiled. “By that look, I take it that you’re famished. Help yourself.”

  Le Claire selected what he hoped was a chocolate croissant, bit into it, savoured the gooey chocolate, sipped his coffee and said, “What brings you here? It must be something special to drag you out of the lab.”

  “It could be. You may have been right about access to the property being through the lanes at the back of the estate. Our search threw up some odd findings.”

  Le Claire sat upright, croissant and coffee discarded. “What have you got?”