Her whirling emotions, coupled with the liberating effects of the wine, lowered her reserve and loosened her inhibitions and then, finally, her tongue.
“Carter. It’s Carter’s heart that has changed.”
“Carter?”
“My fiancé,” Grace faltered. “Ex-fiancé, I guess.”
She held out her left hand and examined the emerald ring, a sizeable square-cut stone surrounded by twelve flawless diamonds. The ring certainly made a statement, even if it was a false one.
Her voice was hollow. “This will have to go back. It was Carter’ grandmother’s.”
“What a cheapskate. He couldn’t even buy you a new ring, had to pass on an old hand-me-down.”
Grace looked up in surprise, a smile escaping her. “Very droll. Anyway, this secondhand beauty will no doubt shortly be required to grace the hand of my ex-assistant.”
“So his cheating crossed over into your workspace—what a moron!” Sam’s disgust was evident.
“Yes. So I have no fiancé and no job—I can’t go back to work there; the fallout would be huge. Anyway, that’s why I’ve stayed. Not because I wanted to, or even because I felt I had to, but because I don’t have a life to go back to—not anymore.”
“I am sorry to hear that, Grace, but their loss is our gain. We’re doing the right thing by Kate. I think I would always have regretted it if we hadn’t at least tried to follow her wishes. We also have to contend with a third party being involved in her death.”
“I know. Even though my mind is in a muddle, I am happy that we’re doing what Kate wanted.”
“It’s only a few months. Then the house can be sold, and you can do whatever you want with your life.”
What did she want? A feeling of uncertainty and not a little trepidation swept over Grace, which she quickly brushed aside. A culmination of the upheaval of the last few days, the shocking revelation about Kate, and several glasses of wine saw fatigue sweep over her, and her eyelids started to close.
Noticing, Sam rose and gently pulled Grace to her feet.
Grace felt a tingle as Sam’s fingers clasped her own. Wanting to break the physical contact as soon as possible, she jumped up a little too quickly. She stumbled, and as she reached out to steady herself, she crashed solidly against Sam’s chest.
With lightning-quick reflexes, Sam’s arms came around Grace, his steady palms resting on her back, waiting until she had regained sound footing.
Grace pulled away and tilted her head back. As she opened her mouth to apologise for her clumsiness, Sam’s arms tightened, his hands pressing deeper against her back as he bent his head and dropped a soft kiss on her lips.
A fleeting brush of lips, so quick Grace could scarce believe it had happened. Sam pulled back and stared into Grace’s astonished eyes. To her dismay, he ignored the obvious question in them.
“Goodnight, Grace. You must be shattered. Go to bed. I’ll clear up.” With that, he gently steered her towards the house.
◆◆◆
Long after the house lay in darkness, a dark figure prowled through the garden. The silence of the night was broken only by the occasional ruffling of the breeze through the leaves.
The full moon flooded the garden with preternatural light, forcing him to hug the shadows as he slowly crept around the perimeter. He occasionally stopped to inspect the ground, but the light prevented him from searching too far. He hadn’t been able to resist, not now that he was so close to the end. All the planning and conniving had been worth it—or would be soon. He always had a Plan B.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next morning, Grace sat on the first-floor balcony with a cup of coffee, pen and notebook in hand as she jotted down a list of the clothes she’d need to buy. She had called her mother back and asked her to send some things, but they probably wouldn’t arrive for another week, so she’d have to buy the essentials. She glanced at her watch. Susannah Avery had called and asked her to join them for Sunday lunch at their favourite restaurant, and Grace had happily accepted. She had at least a half-hour before she would need to start getting ready. Sam wasn’t even back yet. He had gone for a run and said he’d return in plenty of time to get changed.
A movement through the trees to her right caught Grace’s attention. A car was coming up the drive. She rose and went to investigate, her curiosity piqued.
She opened the front door just as a shiny silver convertible drew to a halt in the courtyard. A pretty brunette jumped out of the car, leaning back into the passenger seat to grab a large leather tote. Straightening, she came towards Grace with a beaming smile and outstretched hand.
“I’m Emma Layzell from Layzell Estates. We’re property agents. Are you Grace Howard?”
“Yes, I am. How can I help you?”
The response was blunt. “Rocque View. I have a client who is extremely interested in acquiring this property.”
“Come in, Miss Layzell. There’s no need to have a discussion on the doorstep.”
Emma Layzell followed Grace into the downstairs lounge.
“Please, call me Emma. I’m actually due to update the client and thought it would be good to have a quick one-to-one with you to check the current position.”
“And you would understand the current position to be... ?”
“I’ve sent a letter to the executor and advised that there is an excellent offer on the table. But I thought it best to speak to the new owners as well.”
Grace wondered if the girl was fishing for information. “And how would you know who inherited this house?”
“The buzz is that you and Sam Avery inherited everything. You live in the States, and Sam has an amazing beachfront penthouse. In any event, this place is too big for him as a bachelor. So I did my sums, and two plus two equals a quick sale and a nice lump of cash for each of you. Yes?”
“No. I’m afraid your calculations are a little off. What do you mean by your comment that people know about the contents of my aunt’s will?”
Emma laughed in genuine amusement. “This is Jersey. Nothing stays a secret for long, especially when your Aunt Harriet is involved.”
“What do you mean? Do you know Harriet?”
“To be perfectly blunt, I know her as well as I’d like to. Your aunt is quite prickly, and, if I’m honest, I usually give her a wide berth. She was holding court at a champagne bar in town last night. She was telling anyone who’d listen that she’d been done out of a fortune by two snivelling brats. That’ll be you and Sam.”
Emma turned serious, laying a hand on Grace’s arm. “Don’t be concerned. Most people know that Harriet is a total bitch, and the Averys are a well-respected family. No one’s going to believe anything bad about Sam.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Emma looked as if she had said too much. “I am sure it was just Harriet being her usual self—mean and spiteful and lashing out. Saying she heard Sam needed money. Nothing really.”
From Emma’s closed-mouth expression, it was apparent she wasn’t going to say more. She stood to leave, and Grace escorted her downstairs.
As Emma’s car drove away, Sam came jogging up the drive. His baseball cap, pulled low, shadowed his face, but Grace took her fill of his muscular form in running shorts and a sleeveless tee.
“What did Emma Layzell want?”
“Rocque View, apparently. You know her?”
“A little. What did she say?”
Grace quickly told Sam all.
“I’m sure the buyer will still be there in three months.” Yes, thought Grace, there was that at least. The end was in sight, but then what would she do?
◆◆◆
Le Claire was supposed to have the day off, but his parents had friends round for lunch. The lunch guests had a son who was a partner in a London law firm, and a daughter who did something with IT in California. His father would either be forced into falsely boasting about him or decry his poor career choices. Even Philip Le Claire would find it hard to create a positive
spin about a son who was back living at home, with a fractured career and a broken marriage. He decided a strategic retreat was the best option and headed into the station.
He heard the ruckus before he even left the carpark. Raised voices met him as he walked into pandemonium.
A large man, beetroot-red face and clenched fists, loomed over a slip of a girl. She couldn’t be more than sixteen but was probably younger. She was a skinny bit of nothingness playing dress-up in a tight top, skinny jeans and her face plastered in make-up. Her arms were crossed tight over her chest, her body tensed as if ready for flight.
Two uniforms stood to the side. Le Claire couldn’t understand what they were waiting for. He moved forward as the man reached out toward the girl. She held her ground.
“Move back. Now.” The man ignored him.
Le Claire ran forward, grabbed the man’s arms and twisted them up his back. He’d caught the guy unaware, and the man’s knees buckled as he fell to the ground, calling out. “Oi, what you playing at?”
A red mist descended as Le Claire was blinded to everything but this moment. He took a breath, steadied himself as he fought for control of his emotions. He carefully held the man’s forehead against the floor and motioned for one of the uniforms to take over.
He pushed himself to his feet, looking around to make sure the girl was okay when, out of nowhere, he was shoved. Hard hands slapped against his back and, surprised, he was propelled forward and hit the ground, landing flat-out and face-down. Pain ripped through him from his head to the tips of his toes and everywhere in-between.
He tried to move, but the breath was knocked out of him by a weight landing on his back. A weight with fists that pummelled, and shrieked, “You leave my dad alone, you fucker.”
An anguished voice cut across her. “Chantal, don’t be stupid. You’ve done enough already, joy-riding with that boy.”
The teenager’s fists kept drumming on his back in defiance of her father. He took the pain and rested his forehead on the ground. Would he ever be free of the past?
The weight was lifted from him, but the vocal protests continued. He ached all over, but the humiliation was worse. He rose to his feet, bones creaking, and dusted down his jeans. Flicking a thumb at the girl and her father, who now stood together, he asked the desk-sergeant “Are either of them being charged with anything?”
“No, sir. The gentleman came to collect his daughter.”
He turned to the man. “Sorry if I misunderstood what was going on.”
He shrugged, “I can see how it must’ve looked. I was just worried about my girl.” He enveloped his daughter in his arms, and she relaxed into the hug.
Le Claire pointed at the door. “I suggest you two get on your way.”
He watched them leave. Dewar’s voice drew him back to the moment. “You okay? What was that about?”
She looked concerned, but he shrugged it away. “Nothing. I just didn’t like how he was treating the girl. I guess I misread the situation.”
For a moment he feared she would probe and prod. She didn’t, and the past receded into the closed box in his mind, and the lid slammed shut.
◆◆◆
The restaurant was already busy when they arrived. A few inside tables were occupied, but it was those out on the long, wide terrace that were filling up fastest.
A middle-aged woman approached them, a beaming smile on her round face.
Sam gestured to Grace. “Ellen, this is Grace Howard, Kate’s great-niece.
A look of sympathy flashed across the older woman’s eyes. “I am very sorry for your loss, my dear. I saw you at the funeral. Why don’t you head out and have a drink at the bar? I’ve reserved some places for you. Richard, perhaps you’d lead the way?”
As Sam and Grace followed Richard onto the terrace, Ellen placed a hand on Susannah’s arm, and, heads bent, the women quietly shared a few words.
Susannah soon joined the rest of them on the long sofas that overlooked the expanse of golden beach. As she sat down and accepted a glass of white wine from the waiter, her face was tight. She took a sip of her drink and, carefully making eye contact with Grace, addressed all three of them. “Ellen just told me that Harriet has booked a table for lunch today. Our table is for one o’clock. Harriet’s is for one thirty.” She reached out and placed a comforting hand on Grace’s arm. “We can leave and go somewhere else if you’d like. It’s no problem at all. After the news about Kate, I’m sure none of us is up to this today.”
Susannah’s announcement was met by silence as all eyes turned towards Grace, who slowly shook her head. She wasn’t going to hide. “No, I don’t think so. Thank you, Susannah, but I don’t see why we should have our arrangements changed just because of Harriet. If it’s okay with you, I would rather stay here. Kate is gone, and we don’t yet know the circumstances. I would rather take some comfort from spending time with you all.”
The day had taken an unexpected turn. There was a palpable sense of tension as the matter of Harriet was put to the side, and they quietly conversed about Kate and the police visit.
Grace had occasionally heard her grandmother and father speak of the troublesome Harriet in the past. Her late grandmother had usually become agitated and a little bewildered at the latest antics of her youngest sister, which were succinctly detailed in Kate’s frequent letters.
Grace felt a knot in her stomach, which she desperately tried to ignore as she sought to keep her thoughts away from what the apparently volatile Harriet might do once she saw them.
◆◆◆
With the food ordered, Ellen led the foursome to a beautifully laid table that sat in a prime position overlooking the beach.
Grace spoke to Susannah, who was sitting across from her. “It is very rude of me not to have done so already, but I must thank you for a lovely meal last night. It was really kind of you.”
Susannah’s sad expression brightened in pleasure at the compliment. “Thank you, dear, but I can truthfully say it was my pleasure. Sam is so independent that I am afraid I couldn’t resist taking advantage of your being here to spoil you both a little.”
An icy voice interrupted their gentle conversation. “How unsurprising—the conspirators all together.”
Harriet’s voice, dripping venom, was louder than needed and carried across the terrace. Several other diners glanced in their direction and then looked away, not wanting to become involved in the unfolding scene.
Susannah was quick to respond. “I doubt it’s a surprise, Harriet. Richard and I lunch here most Sundays, as you well know.”
Harriet ignored the return volley and focused her attention on her direct targets: Sam and Grace. “I just thought you’d like to know that I’m not happy about being cut out of Kate’s will. I’m instructing lawyers. Kate can’t have been in her right mind.”
Harriet leaned towards the table, menacingly hovering over Grace. “I’m going to tie the estate up so tight that you won’t get a penny until I get what is due to me. You won’t be able to sell Rocque View, and you can keep your sticky little fingers away from everything else. I deserve a fair share.”
Richard’s voice cut across her. “That’s quite enough, Harriet. It was Kate’s decision and indeed her right to leave her estate as she felt fit. She owed you nothing. In fact, you benefited more than enough from her generosity over the years. Kate stopped bailing you out a long time ago—she knew she was throwing good money after bad. Go to the lawyers, do your worst. It’s all we’d expect of you anyway. Now please just leave us alone.”
An unbecoming flush had slowly stolen across Harriet’s face, her mouth pinched in rage at being dismissed so easily.
Grace said nothing. She was struck silent, trembling slightly at the anger radiating from her relative.
A gruff voice said, “Come on, Harriet. I said this was a bad idea. Never mind them.” Ray Perkins steered her away to their table, which was tucked away at the far end of the terrace.
Susannah managed a smile. “Good
on Ellen. Look, she’s tucked Harriet as far away from us as possible.”
A sudden commotion drew their attention. Ellen had approached Harriet and her escort and was leading them inside the restaurant. A minute or so passed, and then a grim-faced Ellen approached the table and quietly said, “Harriet was totally out of order. I won’t have her coming here and causing a scene and spoiling the day for everyone. She’ll have to get her lunch—and her kicks—somewhere else today.”
Susannah reached out and affectionately patted Ellen’s hand. “That is so kind of you. Thank you.”
“Not kind, more like self-preservation. Harriet’s a nasty drunk, and knowing her, she wouldn’t have finished lunch sober.”
As Ellen walked away, Sam asked his father, “Why didn’t you tell Harriet what the police said? Kate was her sister.”
“It isn’t our place. Let the police speak to her if need be.”
◆◆◆
A young man approached their table as they sat sipping coffee. He was tall with an athletic build and dark hair cut close at the sides but slightly longer on top. An aesthetically handsome face with a generous mouth was toughened by shadowed stubble around the jawline and the merest hint of a moustache, all set off by a deep suntan. His eyes scanned the table as he spoke. “How is everyone? I hope there wasn’t an issue with Harriet Bellingham. I couldn’t help overhearing.”
Sam responded, “We’re fine, James, just family business.”
Grace flicked a glance at Sam. Coldness had entered his voice.
The man smiled affably. “Oh, okay”. He turned to Grace, and there was sympathy in his eyes.
“Miss Howard, I didn’t get a chance to speak to you at the funeral. I’m James Grayling, and I was so sorry to hear about your Aunt Kate. She was a wonderful lady.”
“Thank you. How did you know my aunt?”
“My business is restaurants, and Kate often used one of my town premises to run some charity events. She was a lovely lady to work with. It’s been good to meet you. I assume you’ll be going back to the States soon?”
Blood In The Sand: Betrayal, lies, romance and murder. (A Jack Le Claire Mystery) Page 5