“Yeah, I didn’t see this happening. I mean, Cathy works for me, and I didn’t have a clue she was shagging Drew.” He scratched at his jaw as he slowly shook his head. “Poor Peter. He was supposedly Drew’s best friend. They were always off on each other’s boats.”
Sophie sniffed. “Drew was getting off on more than Peter Frobisher’s boat. You didn’t suspect anything?”
“No. No-one did. You know what hotels are like behind the scenes. Gossip and scandal are lifeblood, and nothing is sacred. How the hell Cathy kept this a secret, I have no idea.”
“And Drew. Shitty of him to have treated Louise like that.”
Louise’s voice broke into their conversation. “Yes, darlings, that’s exactly what I’m thinking.” She beckoned to the barman. “Can you bring me a gin and tonic, please? Make it a double.”
Justin moved closer to Sophie, and, given the now cramped space, the length of his thigh pressed against hers. Heat intensified deep inside as his proximity brought memories rushing back. She thought she’d got over him, perhaps not. She was jerked back to the present by the sound of her name.
“Sophie, I’m glad I caught you and Justin together, which I have to say is sweet after all this time.”
Sophie didn’t know what to say to that. She was sure Louise was taking a swipe at her but, given all the circumstances, decided to let it go. The waiter placed the gin in front of Louise, who immediately drank half of it before carrying on.
“Before we get into anything else, I’ve something to tell you. The police say Drew died from mushroom poisoning.”
Sophie’s mind stuttered. Justin tensed next to her. They spoke in unison. Her “No” was mingled with his “Christ.”
Justin was quickest to recover. “What happened?”
“They don’t know. He didn’t even like mushrooms.”
Justin said, “Louise, I hate to be indelicate . . .”
Her voice was dry. “I know. Husband dies of mushroom poisoning and wife is a forager and chef; yes, I’m sure the police are ahead of you there.” She paused, glanced at them both. “So what’s your opinion of that bloody awful scene?”
It was Justin who answered. “I don’t know. I had no idea Drew was seeing Cathy.” He shook his head. “None at all.”
She downed the rest of her drink. “Well, I did. No, that isn’t true.” She sounded weary. “I had known for ages things weren’t right between us, and I had moments where I suspected something was off. Deep down, I knew there was someone else, although this is a slap in the face. Cathy Frobisher, of all people.” She shook her head and picked up her drink, setting it down with a look of surprise when she saw it was empty. “I guess I better not have another one.”
There was a short silence, and Sophie sensed Justin felt the awkwardness as much as she did, if not more. Louise was his boss after all. The silence lengthened, and the urge to break it grew. “Do you know Cathy well?”
The reply was quick and sharp. “Apparently not as well as I thought I did.” She shook her head. “Sorry for being snappy; there’s no call for me to take this out on you. I’d known Cathy a while. We used to socialise as a foursome. Peter was Drew’s best friend, but he wasn’t my favourite person. I know it was only a fling, and years ago at that, but he didn’t treat Diane well when they broke up. Christ, how could Drew do that to him, to me?”
Sophie gently touched Louise’s hand. “I am sorry.”
“So am I. I’m the one who gave her a job when she split with Pete. I was sorry for her. Christ, the two of them must’ve been laughing behind my back. Anyway, what’s done is done. So, Sophie, how long are you going to stay around?”
“A few weeks. I may take a short holiday before starting my new position.”
“You’ve done well.”
“Thanks. I’ll stay long enough to sort everything out.”
“Ah yes, I recall the ulterior motive that brought you back. Let’s talk again in a few days. I have a husband to bury first.”
Louise left, tossing a “See you later” over her shoulder.
Justin looked puzzled. “Ouch, that was barbed. What’s going on?”
Sophie sighed, sipped at her wine. “Under my dad’s will, I am to get a share of the business when I turn thirty, which is in a few weeks. I want what my dad left me. Louise has seen off two husbands now. What if she marries again? Maybe to her shadow. I’ve never known a married woman so openly attached to another man.”
“Yeah, I suppose it is odd.”
Sophie pushed her half-full wine glass to the side. “I’ve had enough for today. I better be off.”
Justin didn’t move to let her out, and she couldn’t exit without him doing so. He looked at her, really looked at her, and held her eyes for a fraction longer than politeness decreed. She wanted to hear his words, and yet she didn’t. She was torn. The same way she had been when she left ten years before.
“Will you have dinner with me tonight? Somewhere away from here?”
Her memories answered before her mind could think it through. “Yes, I will.”
#
Dewar was waiting in the foyer for Le Claire. She was alone. “What have you done with the Frobishers?”
“The wife, Cathy, is in the staff room having a cup of tea with the head waitress, and I’ve put the husband in the small lounge over there to cool down.” She indicated a closed door to their left. “Justin Le Mahe says they won’t be pressing charges for any damages, and the wife says she got a shock and fell and doesn’t attach blame to the husband.”
“Everyone seems to be in a generous mood. Fine. Let’s have a chat with Mr Frobisher before we send him on his way. If nothing else, he is someone who had a reason to wish ill of Drew Portland.”
Peter Frobisher rose to his feet as they entered the room. He looked abashed. “I’m sorry about that. I overreacted, I guess.”
Le Claire motioned for him to sit back down. “You certainly did that. However, luckily for you, the hotel isn’t going to press charges, and your wife says she stumbled, so there is no assault charge.”
“That’s a relief. Thank you.”
“I will caution you to avoid your wife for a while, and let’s not see a repeat of this type of scene.”
“Yes, of course. Well, I won’t trouble you anymore.”
Frobisher made to stand, but Le Claire motioned for him to stay where he was. “I do have a few questions regarding Drew Portland. You were friends?”
“Yes. I’ve known Drew for years. We both sailed. He was born with it in his blood, and I fell in love with everything maritime a long time ago. I run a small charter business now.”
“When did you find out Drew Portland was having an affair with your wife?”
His bark of laughter was rueful. “About twenty minutes ago.”
“What do you mean?”
Frobisher sighed, his shoulders sank, and his head dropped. He closed his eyes, and when they opened, Le Claire could see a flash of pain.
“Cathy left me six months ago. Said it wasn’t working out and she wanted some space. I thought it was a temporary break. She was adamant there wasn’t anyone else, and I believed her. She got herself a small flat in town. I stayed in the house and kept the mortgage going. The business doesn’t make a lot, but I managed to put a bit extra into her bank account each month. I kept my distance and gave her space. I’d call her once a week to see how she was, and I often lunched here with Drew so I’d at least get to see her.”
“Where does Drew Portland come into the picture?”
His eyes shadowed with pain. “I didn’t think he did. I knew Cathy was up to something. Her attitude changed as if she was done with me but hadn’t told me yet. She rarely answered when I called, and when she did, she was distant and dismissive. I saw her a couple of times in town, wearing expensive-looking jewellery, and that’s what did it for me. I knew she was seeing someone else.”
“How did you know it was Drew Portland?”
“I didn’t. I even ta
lked to Drew about it. You know, to get a mate’s perspective.” He lowered his head into his hands, and Le Claire let him sit silently for a moment. When he raised his head, there was a bleak hardness to his features. “Drew died, and I saw Cathy’s reaction. Completely over the top for someone who was only meant to be her husband’s friend. And then I got the note.”
Dewar asked, “What note?”
“There was a letter amongst the post this morning. It said Cathy had been sleeping with Drew. Everything clicked into place, but I still didn’t want to believe it. And she didn’t deny it today. She did not deny it.” The last words snapped in a staccato.
“Could we see the note?”
“I don’t have it. I kept it until I got to the boat. My head was all over the place. I threw it into the water. I wanted it gone, wanted the words to disappear.”
Dewar moved in closer. “Where were you on Wednesday night between the hours of 5:00 p.m. and 10:00 p.m.?”
He looked puzzled for a second, and then, as recognition dawned, laughed without mirth and shook his head. “That’s when Drew died. I figured his death was alcohol-related. With the amount of drink he slams down in a day, it’s a wonder something didn’t happen years ago.”
Le Claire was brisk. “We are currently treating Mr Portland’s death as suspicious. We believe it likely there was third-party involvement, so please answer the DS’s question.”
“Jeez. Okay, I had lunch with Drew and a boat-builder friend who was over for the day. Then I took my boat out for a bit and came home—alone.”
“Okay, that’s it for now. Give us your contact details, and we’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”
#
Cathy Frobisher was sobbing in a quiet corner of the otherwise empty staff room. Le Claire looked around. “I thought someone was sitting with you.”
“I sent Helen away. She’s got work to do, and I don’t need a babysitter.”
Le Claire begged to differ. The woman in front of him was a wreck. She sat huddled on a chintz sofa, her legs tucked beneath and to her side. He figured she’d be a stunningly attractive woman under normal circumstances, but today her straight blonde hair was lank, blue eyes dull with grief and her skin blotched, no doubt from bouts of tears. She moved slightly. “I don’t want to press charges. Peter had every right to be upset. He didn’t hurt me. I only fell.”
“Of course. DS Dewar already let me know.”
Dewar said. “We have released Mr Frobisher.”
“Oh, okay. Well, thanks. I better go and finish off my shift, I suppose.”
He ignored the words of dismissal. “When did your affair begin with Drew Portland?”
Her lips tightened, and her eyes sharpened. “That’s no one’s business but mine. I don’t even know how Peter found out.”
“Apparently, you told him.”
She stiffened. “I did not. Where did you get that from?”
“Mr Frobisher said he was surprised at the grief you were showing at Drew Portland’s passing. He received an anonymous note indicating you were sleeping with his friend. He said he didn’t believe it. Your actions confirmed you were indeed having a relationship with Mr Portland.”
What little colour she had leached from her face. “Oh God, I should have denied it. What a mess.”
“Indeed. Now, Mrs Frobisher . . .”
She cut across him. “Call me Cathy. I’m not really Mrs Frobisher anymore.”
“Fine, Cathy. We are investigating Drew Portland’s death as suspicious.”
She sat upright. “What do you mean by suspicious? Did someone kill Drew?”
“We don’t know what happened yet. Where were you on Wednesday night?”
“What? I was working. I was here until after 11:30 p.m. I didn’t harm Drew. I loved him. He can’t be gone; he can’t.” She buried her head in her hands as her loud sobs filled the air.
Le Claire glanced at Dewar, who quickly took the hint and sat beside Cathy, offering her a tissue from the pack she habitually carried in her uniform pocket. He patiently waited while Cathy blew her nose, and her crying subsided.
“How long were you together?”
She glanced to the side before replying—a reflexive action. “Not long, three months or so.”
He doubted that. She had probably been seeing Portland either before or not long after her marriage imploded. There was a cunningness about her when the conversation turned to her relationship with Drew Portland.
“So it wasn’t serious?”
The look on her face was indignant. “Of course it was. Drew and I loved each other. He was going to leave his wife for me.”
This relationship had definitely been going on for longer than three months.
“Was his wife aware of your relationship?”
“Louise? No, she doesn’t know anything.”
Dewar’s voice was gentle. “I’m afraid she knows now. She overheard your husband’s accusations.”
“Shit! I’ll get the sack.”
“We have employment protection laws now. They won’t be able to fire you, not without good reason.”
“But will I want to stay here? If they offer to pay me off, I’m taking it. I can always get another job.” She looked away. “The timing isn’t great though.”
Le Claire asked, “When was the last time you saw Mr Portland? And what was his frame of mind?”
“I saw him when he had lunch here on Wednesday. I kept away from the table as I didn’t want Peter to suss anything. I was on the boat with Drew on Tuesday night. I hadn’t seen him since the Friday before as he had been at some fancy party with Louise, and then he’d been ill for a few days.”
“And how was he when you saw him?”
“Fine. I mean, he’d had a dodgy tummy and wasn’t completely over it. It still didn’t hold him back, though. He cooked steaks, and we had some lovely wine.”
Le Claire sensed Dewar tense. “Did you both have the wine?”
“Yes. Well, no. I mean, I don’t like red wine. Drew had some fancy French red, and I had Chardonnay. I don’t care if it’s supposed to be red with steak. It’s too heavy for me. Drew always made sure he had what I liked on board.” Her voice trailed away, and Le Claire figured he wouldn’t get much more out of her today.
“Okay, that’ll do for now. Except—do you know where Mr Portland usually got his wine?”
“Yeah, he took it from the hotel.”
CHAPTER NINE
Friday nights had been lonely affairs when he and Sasha were separated. He had usually worked late and grabbed a takeaway on the way home. The home had been the apartment above his parents’ garage block. A space he’d first occupied before going to university. It had been a sad reflection of the state of his marriage when he’d had to move back in there when he returned to the island a year ago.
Now he’d eagerly driven home to spend the evening with Sasha. She’d cook a lovely meal, and they’d snuggle on the sofa watching TV. Usually, they would share a bottle of wine, but not now.
As he neared the house, his bubble of happiness burst and shattered as he saw the two cars parked in the drive. He’d completely forgotten both sets of parents were coming round tonight. They were going to break the big news to them.
He shouted a hello as he ran upstairs to change. Fifteen minutes later, he headed downstairs, his hair still wet from the shower.
Sasha was walking through the hall, wearing a brightly coloured apron, and when she saw him, a welcoming grin made her eyes crinkle in the special way that always made his heart beat a little faster. “Hello, handsome, the folks arrived ten minutes before you and were early, so you’re not late.”
“Thank heavens. I thought my mum would be moaning at me for keeping everyone waiting.”
Sasha rested a finger against her chin as she playfully replied, “Hmm, I’m sure you’ll get into trouble for something. The night is still young.”
He laughed as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her on the lips with a loud
smack. “You taste sweet.”
She giggled, and the girlish sound made him smile. “Strawberry lip gloss. I thought you might like it.” She moved out of his arms and slapped him on the bum, then handed him the open bottle of Prosecco she was carrying. “Go and get everyone another drink while I finish dinner. And don’t let our dads wind each other up.”
That was a task he wasn’t in the mood for, but he dutifully headed into the lounge. The sliding doors were open to the small balcony where his mother was sitting with Sasha’s, deep in conversation. His dad was leaning on the railing, looking out to sea, so was Sasha’s dad. He was sure they wouldn’t be conversing much.
“Hi everyone, who’s for a top-up?”
The reactions made him laugh. He had apparently interrupted his mother speaking, and she looked slightly disgruntled. His dad glanced at his watch and raised a brow, and Alex Fraser nodded his head at his son-in-law. It was his mother-in-law, Ellie Fraser, who showed a man a proper welcome.
“Jack, darling, how lovely to see you. Come here and kiss me.”
He dutifully kissed his mother-in-law on each cheek. “You look lovely as ever, Ellie.”
And she did. Sasha took after her mother in looks, and Ellie’s dark hair was without a hint of grey. Her eyes crinkled with laughter lines, but the rest of her plump face was wrinkle free. She held her head to one side, considered him and said, “Thank you. However, I wish I could say the same about you. You look tired.”
“Doesn’t he always? I’ve told you before, Jack, and I’ll tell you again. You work all waking hours for that ridiculous pay of yours—” His father was interrupted by an even harsher critic
“And you have to consider the future. You’re a married man and have my daughter to support.”
“Now, Dad, leave it be. Jack and I support each other; that’s what makes a modern marriage. Now top-up those glasses, darling, and let’s do this.” Sasha placed her hand on the small of his back and gently pushed him towards their parents. He topped-up their glasses and poured some of the bubbling Prosecco for himself. Sasha held a glass of what looked like sparkling mineral water. He saw his mother glance at the drink in Sasha’s hand, and her eyes lingered for a moment when she looked at him. Her gaze held a question. His wife would usually have poured herself a large glass and joined in the fun.
Blood On The Rock: Treachery, desire, jealousy and murder (A Jack Le Claire Mystery) Page 8
