“Oh, that was part of her message as well. She said she’d pop into the office and print out the individual ledgers herself.”
“When did she say this?”
“On Saturday. Sorry, I forgot.”
“It’s fine, but I had better speak to her. She should not be worrying about something like this at the moment. Louise needs to concentrate on her health. Come on, let’s go and see her.”
He switched the engine back on, turned the boat around and headed back to the south of the island.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Louise Portland was parked at the marina, pacing up and down by her car, a worried-looking Tom Mathison by her side. She looked pale, which only made the dark shadows underneath her eyes stand out even more. She still managed to almost break into a run when she saw him. “Thank you for meeting me here.”
“No problem, but what exactly is the issue?”
“I’ve had someone look at the books of the business. I wanted it valued. They believe embezzlement or fraud is going on and—Christ, I can’t believe I’m saying this . . .”
Tom Mathison spoke, “All roads point to Justin Le Mahe being responsible. It looks like false invoicing, massively increasing the company expenses.”
“Why do you think it’s Mr Le Mahe?”
“He controls everything. I used to think it was laudable and proof of how dedicated he was. It was really so no one knew what he was doing. I had a call a few days ago from our old accountant, who took early retirement. I called him back earlier today. He said he had to say something because he’d heard Justin and Sophie were an item again. I called you because I didn’t know who else to speak to.”
“What did he say?”
“That he had only retired because Justin forced him to. He’d approached Justin about some of the product buying, said it seemed expensive. Apparently, Justin threatened him, said he knew the accountant, McMaster, was in the habit of hiring . . . well, prostitutes. McMaster said he couldn’t afford for his wife to find out, so he took Justin’s offer of early retirement. He said he didn’t want Sophie ending up with someone like that, and couldn’t keep quiet any longer.”
“Don’t worry. We have specialist teams that deal with financial crimes. We’ll take some details and have a chat with them.” He didn’t bloody need this. He should be out catching a killer, not mopping up some white-collar crime.
She was wringing her hands together and looked strained. “I came here to wait for Justin. He’s gone out on his boat with Sophie. She’ll be devastated if this is true. Why would he do this?” She was babbling to herself. “I can’t believe it. No wonder he always said he didn’t want to sell the business. The little sod didn’t want anyone looking at the books. That’s why he persuaded me to vote against Drew.”
Le Claire’s attention spun back to her. “What was the vote about?”
“Drew was adamant we should sell the hotel and restaurant. Said it was making less money, and we didn’t want to wake up one day and find out it was running at a loss. He wanted to get someone to value it and look at the options. He even had some people who were interested.”
“But it didn’t go anywhere?”
“No, Justin came to me and reminded me that Tony Ginelli built this business for his family, and he wouldn’t have wanted it sold.”
Justin had told them it was Louise who didn’t want to sell. “So a bit of emotional blackmail?”
“I guess I didn’t see it that way at the time, but yes, it was, and it worked. I had a huge fight with Drew and told him not to be selfish and that I’d never sell Tony’s business.”
Dewar’s voice was gentle. “Louise, does Justin know you’re ill?”
She looked surprised. “Yes, he does. I told him shortly after I found out. He needed to know because of the business. I said he’d need to take on even more responsibility. Christ, he must’ve loved that. What a fool I’ve been.”
Dewar looked at Le Claire, and her eyes messaged his. They were both on the same track. “Was Justin aware that if you died first that Drew would get to keep the shares? Did he know about the prenup?”
“No, that was personal.”
“So Justin would have thought there was a good chance that if you died first, not only would Drew have kept the shares you’d gifted him, but he would potentially inherit all if not most of your estate?”
“I guess. I mean, I’ve never thought about it.”
Dewar asked, “Did he know you and your husband weren’t getting on?”
“I have to say yes to that. I have known Justin a long time, and when Drew annoyed me more than usual, I confided in Justin.”
Le Claire’s voice was calm, but underneath he was fizzing with the hunt. “So Justin Le Mahe has been embezzling money from the business and doesn’t want anyone to look at the books because they’d know straight off that something is wrong. He persuades you not to side with your husband on getting the business valued and dissuades you against selling. Not long ago, he finds out you’re ill, seriously so, and, forgive me, that you may not survive.”
She nodded, a wary expression on her face. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“And if Drew Portland had inherited a majority of the shares in the business, he could have called in accountants and had a valuation done. But he was killed. No valuation.”
Her mouth fell open, and she shook her head.
“Drew’s mistress is pregnant, and Jersey has legislation that decrees what percentage of assets are to be left to a child. Cathy Frobisher and her unborn child were murdered. No valuation.”
“Oh God, no, I don’t believe this.” She sank down as her knees gave way. Tom Mathison was by her side in a second and held her in his arms as he opened the car door and gently helped her onto the passenger seat. “Take care, love, take it easy.” Mathison’s voice was low, and Le Claire wasn’t surprised to hear genuine care and affection in his tone.
Le Claire looked at Dewar. “Call this in and update the team. Tell them we’ll wait here for Le Mahe’s boat to come back in. Mrs Portland, you don’t have to stay. You don’t need to be here to see this.”
“Oh, I do. I told him the other day I’d redone my will. Everything was always left to Sophie anyway, but I’ve added Justin in as my secondary beneficiary. So if anything happens to Sophie, he’ll get the lot.”
Le Claire’s blood ran cold. “So he, not knowing you are on to him, could be planning to kill Sophie, safe in the knowledge that he’ll inherit the lot if you were to pass?”
“Oh God, yes.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“Sophie said they were going around the island. They could be anywhere.”
Le Claire snapped into a focussed mode. “Dewar, get the station to contact the coastguard. Tell them we’re looking for—”
He stopped and looked at Louise. “What’s his boat?”
“It’s a motor-cruiser. The La Loren.”
“Right, tell them to find it if they can.”
His mobile rang. He checked to see if it was Sasha. It wasn’t, so he let it ring out. It immediately rang again, and, sighing, he said, “I’m sorry, excuse me”, and answered the call. It was Dr Brian Foster from the General Hospital.
“What’s this about, Brian?”
The doctor’s voice was weary. “An attempted suicide was brought in this morning. She’d taken enough pills, washed down with alcohol, to do the job but luckily vomited at some point in the night. Being sick saved her life. We pumped out what was left in her stomach. She was conscious and screaming about Cathy Frobisher and her missing phone. That’s the girl who was beaten to death, isn’t it?”
His nerve ends were tingling. “What about it?”
“She said she knows who has the phone, and they forced the alcohol and pills down her throat.”
“Christ! Did she say a name?”
“She kept shouting ‘Justin’. Does that mean anything?”
He stilled as a multitude of jigsaw pieces whirled ar
ound inside his head and slotted into disturbing place. He disconnected the call and looked around.
Dewar had also just got off her phone. “The coastguard has been alerted.”
“Justin Le Mahe is now suspected of attacking and almost killing a girl last night. A Diane Hunt.”
Louise gasped. An ashen Tom Mathison responded. “Diane is Louise’s niece. Is she all right?”
“Thankfully, yes. My immediate concern is the safety of Sophie Ginelli.”
His eyes darted across the marina as his mind computed the available options. There were none. Then he looked again and saw a familiar face. He called out, “Armstrong! Wait.”
Paul Armstrong was on his boat, leaning over the side and about to untie the thick ropes securing it to the dock. He waved, and his smile only faltered a little as Le Claire shouted. “Stop, we’re coming with you.”
#
Armstrong wasn’t looking pleased as they climbed aboard. “What the hell is going on?”
“There’s a boat—La Loren—that belongs to Justin Le Mahe of Ginelli’s. Sophie Ginelli is on board and could be in danger. We’ve alerted the coastguard, but we need to get to them quickly.”
“Where are they?”
“Somewhere around the island.”
“Ah jeez, let’s go. Here, put these on.” He bent down and opened a plastic storage chest and threw life jackets to each of them. Dewar said, “Do we need these?”
Armstrong laughed. “Put it on. You might not need it, but that boy looks like he’s going to throw up.” Le Claire seethed but said nothing. He did feel a little ill.
Armstrong continued, “And if either of you go overboard, I’d prefer you floated as opposed to me having to dive in and save you.”
They sorted themselves out as Armstrong cast off, fired up the engine and carefully manoeuvred them out of the marina. Le Claire stood on one side, Dewar on the other. He was holding on tight, his feet firmly planted on the deck as the boat slowly headed out to the open sea.
Armstrong grabbed a radio from the shelving under the wheel and called in his request to emergency support. “The Lone Wolf here with DCI Le Claire and DS Dewar of the States of Jersey police; looking for the coordinates of the La Loren. Repeat, this is a police matter.”
Le Claire leant over and spoke into the radio. “This is DCI Jack Le Claire. The station has called this matter into the coastguard. Let the Lone Wolf know when you have the whereabouts of the La Loren.”
Armstrong cut the connection and steered straight ahead. “No point going either left or right until I know the right direction to go in.” He glanced at Le Claire. “So the boy’s gone bad, like his father. Sad to see. Tony Ginelli tried to stay friends with Le Mahe Senior, but they had grown apart and moved in different circles.”
“A shame indeed.” He answered automatically. Sophie could be in real danger. The worst could already have happened, but he pushed the thought away.
The radio crackled. A voice came through loud and clear. The La Loren was passing Corbiere Lighthouse and heading along the south coast.
Le Claire was calculating possible outcomes and turned to Armstrong. “They could easily be going back to the marina, but I can’t risk anything happening to Sophie Ginelli. He doesn’t know we’re on to him, but Sophie is in danger.”
Armstrong said, “Sit down and hold on tight,” and pulled the throttle back. The entire prow seemed to lift out of the water, and he and Dewar, who weren’t holding on tight enough, fell over each other as a jet of sea spray came crashing over them. They sat back up, and this time he did hold on tight, and he could see Dewar’s knuckles whiten as she grasped the steel railing. He closed his eyes as his stomach lurched. He could do this. He had no choice.
#
Justin’s face was unreadable as he set course for St Helier. She hadn’t appreciated how much Ginelli’s meant to him. They’d been carried away by the romance of being together again, and she had to concede she hadn’t thought to discuss the future. Perhaps that was a failing.
She looked up. They were along the south coast and had passed Noirmont Point with St Aubin’s Bay now visible on their left.
There wasn’t much traffic on the water, which was good as Justin was bombing along. The waves had grown higher, and the boat rose and fell with each swell. The thrum of the engine was a mechanical roar, making it too loud to try and have a conversation. She looked around. There was a motorboat on the horizon, and it caught her eye because it was moving at some pace; it seemed to be heading straight towards them. It kept coming, crashing through the waves. There looked to be two, maybe three people on board. What did they want? “Justin? Look at that boat.”
Her voice floated on the air and was caught by the wind and carried away. Justin whipped around and, to her shock, pushed her aside, and she fell onto the leather bench seat. His roar was a primaeval declaration of fury; he released the throttle and, with a savage twist of the wheel, turned them around towards the open sea. “Justin, are you crazy? Slow down! You’ll get us killed!” She ended on a scream as he carried on, not listening to her. The boat was gaining on them. It was headed straight for them. She could make out their faces now. It was the policeman, Le Claire, and his sidekick, Dewar. What the hell was going on?
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Armstrong headed southeast, which meant they travelled parallel to the south coast. He had pulled them farther from the shore as the sea hid a bed of ragged rocks rising to dangerous heights at some points. The boat pounded across the waves, the engine roared and throbbed, and the wind had risen. Armstrong’s voice broke through the noise. “Quick, one of you grab the binoculars from the hook. There’s a boat ahead.” Le Claire made to move, but Dewar stilled him and stood, rocking to keep her balance, and edged to the side of the boat. He suffered a wave of shame that she had to do this, but he felt as if the tiniest movement would see him throw up.
She held on with one hand and used the other to steady the binoculars as she peered through them. She dropped them onto the seat almost immediately. “Get over there. That’s him.”
Le Claire had edged to the front of the boat. The bile was rising, and a sour taste was in his mouth. He held on tight and kept his eyes on the boat in front of them. Sophie had fallen and disappeared. He saw her head come up, and he willed her to be sensible, to sit tight and not exacerbate the situation. Paul Armstrong was a canny sea dog with a nifty boat, and even with Justin’s increased speed, they were gaining on him.
Sophie Ginelli was looking panicked, and she held on to Justin’s arm, tugging and gesticulating as she shouted. Justin shook her off him, and, holding the wheel with one hand, he lashed out with the other and hit Sophie in the face. She fell, collapsing against the side of the boat.
Le Claire never took his eyes off Justin and shouted, “Can you get us any closer?” Sophie Ginelli could be in grave danger, and he had to stop this madman from claiming another victim.
Armstrong yelled back, “I’ll try”
#
Sophie sprawled on her back against the moulded side of the boat. She had caught her ribs on the sharp angled edge of a plastic table, and each shaky breath was accompanied by a stabbing pain. Her heart raced as she tried to take in what had happened. Justin had hit her. He’d pushed her away, and then, when she had tried to reason with him, a heavy slap from his open palm had sent her reeling. What the hell was going on? She grabbed the arm of a seat to help propel her to standing. Her ribs ached, and her cheek smarted; furious tears threatened to fall, and her mind was a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts. Justin’s eyes were fixed on the horizon as he handled the wheel.
She raised her voice, the better to be heard above the cacophony of the engine, the propellers and crashing waves. “What the hell is going on, Justin? Why did you hit me?”
He glanced over his shoulder, and regretful eyes locked onto hers. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. We need to get away. We can talk later.”
Her mind raced, and her chest tightened as sh
e sought to clear her fogged mind. “Get away from whom? The police? Why?”
“Yes, yes. They’re going to interfere. I have money. We can be in England by nightfall. I need to lose Le Claire. If I can get rid of him, we’ll be fine. Everything will be okay.”
The words didn’t make sense. “But why are the police interfering? Whatever it is, we can work it out.”
“I was only protecting what’s mine. I look after what belongs to me. I kept an eye on you over the years, you know. It’s easy enough to do these days with Facebook and Twitter. I knew you’d come home eventually. You belong here—with me.”
She was processing his words when he let out an expletive and turned the boat sharply to the left. She stumbled and landed on the bench seat that ran around the stern, sliding across the smooth leather as Justin urged the boat on, faster. She held onto the steel railing, her knuckles turning white with the pressure. Instead of journeying into the harbour, Justin was headed for Greve D’Azette—and the treacherous hidden rocks that ran all the way to Green Island.
#
Justin had turned La Loren away from the open sea, and Armstrong did likewise, continuing their pursuit as he shouted above the roar of the sea. “What the hell is he up to?”
Le Claire stayed quiet. He didn’t have a clue why Justin would head back inland.
A few minutes more and Armstrong obviously had his answer. “The tricky little swine. He’s heading past the marina towards Greve D’Azette.”
Dewar looked at Le Claire, mouthing, “What?”
Le Claire might not be at home on the water, but he knew how hazardous this area was. When the tide was fully out, it exposed a lunar landscape of towering, jagged rocks, and many a landlubber was stranded by the speed with which the tide rushed back in. Novice yachtsmen, and even those more experienced, could run foul of the rocky peaks beneath the waters. They were heading into dangerous territory, and Le Claire hoped the lawyer had a steady hand and a keen eye.
Blood On The Rock: Treachery, desire, jealousy and murder (A Jack Le Claire Mystery) Page 26
