Blood On The Rock: Treachery, desire, jealousy and murder (A Jack Le Claire Mystery)

by Kelly Clayton

  They were gaining on their prey.

  #

  Sophie gulped down shaking breaths as her heart raced with a thudding beat. She looked behind her, transfixed by the boat gaining on them, coming ever closer. Suspicions formed, sharpened and were discounted. She refused to believe Justin had done anything wrong. He couldn’t have. She stood and carefully crossed the deck, anchoring her feet and swaying with the surge of the boat until she was beside Justin. She held onto the instrument console to steady herself.

  “Please, Justin, stop this nonsense. You’ve got the bloody police chasing us. This is serious. Justin?”

  He was ignoring her. His head was whipping from side to side as his eyes skimmed the surface of the water. He was going too fast for this area. She raised her voice. “Slow down. You’ll hit the rocks. Do you hear me?”

  She grabbed his arm, holding on tight as he tried to dislodge her. He held onto the wheel with one hand as he thrust the other backwards, shaking her off. She lost her footing and stumbled. He kicked out his foot, catching her in the stomach. She doubled over and fell to her knees, crying out as the pain burned into her.

  “You stupid bitch, can’t you see I am trying to protect you? Stop blubbering and give me peace. I need to think.”

  Sophie crawled across the deck and hauled herself onto one of the chairs. She was numb inside.

  #

  Le Claire scanned the rack at the far end of the boat. It held a jumble of rope, what looked like a toolbox and the exact piece of equipment he needed. He inched closer, holding tight to the railing, and grabbed the loudspeaker. Holding it to his mouth, he bellowed, “La Loren. This is the police. Stop.”

  Justin glanced over his shoulder but turned back and seemed to be trying to increase his speed. Sophie was frozen in place as she held onto the side of the boat, the other hand clutching at her stomach.

  He called out again, “Justin Le Mahe, I order you to stop.” Justin didn’t. Right, fair warning had been given. Le Claire was pissed off and fed up. His wife was being poked and prodded by doctors as they tried to work out why her body had rejected their child, and this bastard had callously murdered a pregnant woman.

  Armstrong was fighting the waves, but he was bringing the boat closer into La Loren. They’d get almost within touching distance, and the sea would twist and churn, forcing them apart. Armstrong was pushing Justin farther inland, which meant he was heading straight for the rocks. The La Loren slowed a little to allow for this, and Le Claire took his chance. He ran to the side of the boat, and, holding onto the roof of the cabin, he jumped up to the side, calling out, “Dewar, come and hold fast.”

  She looked around, her eyes a little wild, and grabbed the heavy coil of rope. She tied one end to her waist and lashed the other about the railing. Clever, that would help her stand firm. Leaning over, she tried to catch the side of La Loren. The two boats were battering against each other like bumper cars. She stretched, he saw the strain in her face and then she grabbed hold of Justin’s boat, anchoring it alongside Armstrong’s. Her neck was corded and her face purple as she struggled to hang on.

  Le Claire leaped across and landed on the deck. He didn’t do this with a neat roll, as he’d been taught, but landed awkwardly on his side. He stood as quick as he could, but Justin was ready and lashed out with a vicious kick that sent him flying. He felt sick, and his head was spinning, but, clutching his side, he got to his feet. He heard a shout. Dewar had lost her grip on Justin’s boat, and the two moved apart. She was hanging precariously over the side, and for a heart-stopping second Le Claire thought she was going overboard. He realised Armstrong was steering with one hand while the other held the rope taut, pulling Dewar back onto the deck. Relieved, he turned his attention to the scene in front of him.

  Justin was glancing over his shoulder and shouted at Sophie, “Quick, take the wheel and hold the boat steady.”

  Sophie looked at him and shook her head. “What are you playing at, Justin? It’s the police. Stop, and let’s talk.”

  “Talk? What is there to talk about? We need to get away.”

  “Why?” She was yelling now. “What do we need to get away from?”

  “They’re going to lie to you. Say I did bad things.”

  Le Claire was slowly inching closer.

  Sophie’s voice held an edge to it. “What things?”

  Le Claire called out. “He killed Drew Portland and Cathy Frobisher and almost succeeded in killing Diane Hunt.”

  #

  Sophie’s mouth slackened and her stomach clenched, all pain forgotten as her mind stuttered, and she faced Le Claire.

  “What? This can’t be right. You are mistaken. Tell him he’s wrong, Justin. Tell him.”

  Le Claire shouted, “I’m not wrong. You left a witness who is apparently spitting blood and ready to see you get all you deserve. Diane Hunt is still alive.”

  Justin’s eyes bulged, and his mouth hung open.

  Le Claire turned back to Sophie. “Justin has been embezzling and couldn’t afford for the business to be sold, which was exactly what Drew Portland wanted to do. The books would have been examined, and his theft would have been apparent.”

  She looked down, shaking her head, her palm outstretched as she attempted to ward off the words and force them back. “It can’t be true?” She had intended it as a statement, but it came out as a question.

  Le Claire wouldn’t shut up; his words kept coming. “You were going to be next. Louise told Justin he’d be her heir if anything ever happened to you.”

  Justin’s voice whipped across the deck. “That is crap, Sophie. I love you. I’d never do you any harm. We’re getting married, and we’ll run Ginelli’s. It was always meant to be this way.”

  She shook her head, disbelieving and, distracted as she was, lost her footing as the front of the boat hit a savage wave. She stumbled and struggled to gain her feet. Justin couldn’t take his eyes from her and moved to help her. Le Claire took the opportunity. He grabbed Justin, spun him round and punched him in the face. Justin stumbled back against the wheel and fell to the side.

  The boat was veering to the side as the wheel spun uncontrollably. Sophie crawled along the deck and grabbed it, struggling to steady the boat but slowing it down so she could handle it. Justin shuffled back, eyes wild as he looked for an escape route that wasn’t there. He got to his feet. Rage contorted his features. He was a man with nothing left to lose. He bellowed and charged, Le Claire was taken by surprise and lost his footing. Justin kept going, Le Claire propelled with him and, to her horror, Sophie realised they were going over the side.

  #

  Le Claire gasped as he was enveloped by the freezing-cold water, automatically kicking out his legs and arms. However, the life jacket was keeping him afloat without any great effort on his part. Justin was about eight feet away from him and was being dragged farther away by the white-capped waves. Le Claire looked around for the boat. Sophie had managed to stop it, and it floated freely. At least she was safe. He could see Armstrong’s boat slowly closing in on them from the other direction.

  He looked back at Justin and to his shock saw he was powering through the waves with strong strokes. Within seconds, Justin was in front of him, and his hand shot out from beneath the water. Le Claire was puzzled by the flash of light before Justin inhaled, held his breath and dived beneath the surface. There was a pull across his chest, and the tightness released. Comprehension came quick. The flash had been a reflection of light on a pocketknife. Justin had cut the webbing strap that secured his life jacket and was now tugging it from his shoulders. Le Claire kicked out, the weight of the water rendering his motions useless. Harsh hands roughly grabbed him, ripped the lifejacket off and, as it floated away pushed him under the water. Silence descended as he was dragged down. He was holding his breath and frantically trying to escape Justin’s hold.

  He twisted and turned, tried to dislodge him and all the while his chest ached, as his lungs expanded. His feet were flailing and kic
king, and with a burst of crazed energy from some hidden resource, he surged upwards, pulling Justin with him.

  They broke the surface, and Le Claire gasped, taking in huge gulps of air as he fought to control his ragged breath. Justin let him go and backstroked away. Le Claire didn’t go after him. There was no need. The cavalry had arrived in the form of the coastguard, and the lifeboat crew’s dinghies were racing towards them.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Back on dry land, Justin Le Mahe had been handcuffed and taken away in the back of a police van. He wouldn’t be seeing the open seas for some time.

  Le Claire and Dewar had headed back to the station, where she’d gone to look out for Sophie and Louise, who’d be giving statements. He’d stripped out of his soaking clothes, showered and changed into a spare set of gear he kept in his office.

  Sophie Ginelli and Louise Portland had apparently mended their bridges in a storm of shared betrayal. They sat close together on a comfortable sofa in one of the interview rooms. Tom Mathison had given up any pretence and sat on the other side of Louise, her hand held tightly in his.

  Le Claire followed Dewar into the room and sat in the chair opposite Sophie. “Are you all right?”

  She was pale and had an indigo bruise spreading across her right cheek to her brow. She shook her head, and her voice was choked and thick with emotion. “I can’t believe Justin is a murderer. How could I be taken in like that?”

  Her voice trailed away, and her eyes shone with unshed tears.

  Louise’s voice was soothing. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. We were all taken in. I treated him like family. He must’ve been planning to get his hands on the business for years. Tony Ginelli took Justin on and ignored the fact that his father, Gary, was a drunken wastrel who’d screwed up their business relationship. All those years since Tony died, Justin has acted as my most trusted colleague and friend. Little bastard.”

  Tom Mathison rubbed her hand between his. “Louise, you know not to get too worked up, but I can’t blame you for it today.”

  Le Claire stood. “Thank you for saying you’ll be happy to give statements straightaway. It helps us get the ball rolling. Can I ask that you stay on the island for the next few weeks in case we have additional questions?”

  Sophie looked at Louise before replying, “I’m staying. I’m going to run Ginelli’s and get it back on track. So I’ll be around.”

  Louise took a moment before replying. “I will be here for another week, but after that Tom and I are flying to California. Sophie and Diane will be here for each other. I’ve spoken to my niece on the phone, and she’s going to be fine. We’re going to see her after this.”

  Tom took up the baton. “I’ve found a consultant there who has pioneered a new procedure. It has only been carried out a few times on people with a similar condition to Louise. The operations have been successful so far and reversed the damage to the heart functionality. We have to give it a go.”

  “I wish you well. DS Dewar will be back in a moment with one of our colleagues, and we’ll get everything finalised as quickly as possible.”

  He was almost at the door when Sophie Ginelli asked, “What will happen to Justin? He will go down for this, won’t he?”

  “Justice will be done, Miss Ginelli.” He no longer knew if that were true or not. He caught the criminals; the legal system decided on the punishment.

  #

  Sophie puffed out a series of rapid breaths, willing her insides to settle. Her stomach was an aching pit of anxiety, sharp pains stabbing into the hollowness. Louise touched her arm and pulled her close, her voice a whisper. “Hush, there. You’ll feel like crap for ages, but then the anger will take hold. You’re too strong to let this mark you.”

  Sophie tried to speak, but all that came out was a rough croak. Her throat was closed and tight, and she sipped from the bottle of water on the table to try and find some relief. “I can’t believe he could have done these awful things. I don’t want to accept it, yet I hear what you and the police say, and I even heard it from Justin’s mouth. But why, why would he do this?”

  Tears were near the surface and threatened to spill over at any moment.

  Louise sighed. “It may be some time before we know the whole truth, if we ever do. I suspect it goes back to his father. Gary Le Mahe was broke while his former business partner became hugely successful. Justin’s sense of entitlement regarding Ginelli’s began a long time ago—perhaps even before your dad gave him a job.”

  Sophie shuddered as a vicious thought took hold and stabbed at the open wound. “What if Justin only ever dated me because I was Dad’s heir? Christ, that would be an even bigger slap in the face.”

  Louise’s eyes were soft, and Sophie caught a glimpse of the loving stepmother she had almost forgotten existed. “No one is entirely bad, nor are they completely good. I think Justin genuinely cared for you—but he has a rotten core that pushed forward and eclipsed anything else when he thought I might die before Drew and he’d inherit my assets.”

  Sophie gagged as foul bile rose in her throat, and she pressed a shaking hand tight against her mouth until the nausea receded. She had a bad taste in her mouth in more ways than one. Louise was in a much worse position than she was. She thought about her question for a moment and then asked it anyway.

  “This treatment . . . will it work?”

  “Oh, I hope so. I need my strength to make sure Justin pays for all he has done.”

  Sophie seconded that.

  #

  Le Claire sipped at the coffee Dewar had made him and she hugged a massive mug of tea, a quick break for her before carrying on with tidying things up. “I thought you were a goner for sure.”

  “So did I at one point.” He shuddered at the memory of the cold water beneath, around and above him. Then he let it go. He was on dry land and would be staying there for the foreseeable future.

  “Thanks for holding the fort. I want to get back and see Sasha.”

  He’d told Dewar their news, and she had seemed genuinely sad for them. “No problem at all. Give my best to Sasha and say I’ll give her a call for a coffee in a few weeks.”

  “I will do. Now, where are we?”

  “Ian and Oliver Portland will be charged with evading paying duty on the goods they brought into the island. Their activities in the UK will also be looked into as I’m not entirely convinced it’s only fish they were selling. I’m sure some cheap wine was part of their delivery schedule.”

  “What about Alia Farisi?”

  “We’ve taken her papers away—her false papers, that is—and put a curfew on her. She’ll effectively be on probation and need to check in at the station weekly until this is sorted out. She’ll no doubt be deported.”

  “What a mess. She’s the one person in all of this I feel sorry for. And Frobisher?”

  “Spitting blood in his cell and organising meetings with his lawyer. But we have the decoded notebook and Ali’s testimony, so he’s going nowhere. We’ve passed the information on to the UK police, and they’re looking into the Society for Displaced Persons who were funding a lot of this.”

  “Good. And Justin Le Mahe?”

  “Banged up and not a happy bunny. Vanguard’s team are at his flat and his office at the hotel, and they’ve already found Cathy Frobisher’s phone in his car after the tip-off from Diane Hunt. They also found empty syringes with fine needles. We’re getting them tested, but it’s assumed that is how he inserted the liquidised fungi into the wine bottles. The needle went straight through the foil and cork. We’ve also taken away a quantity of clothing similar to that worn by the hooded subject who delivered the wine and was on Drew’s boat the night he died. So that’s everything.”

  He sighed, rubbed at his neck. “It’s been a long two weeks. We both deserve some time off and a break; a bit of rest and relaxation. So what will you be doing?”

  “Oh, probably catch up on my telly programmes on playback and have a few glasses of wine.”

 
; “Alone?” He tried to keep his voice neutral but worried a snigger might have escaped.

  She eyed him with suspicion. “Why do you ask that?”

  “I’m a detective, you know. And now I have a chance to consider it, you were all dressed up the night of Drew Portland’s murder, and so was Viera. He called you Emily, not Dewar, at the Cathy Frobisher crime scene. Did you dress all fancy because you were going on a date; a date with Viera. Am I right?”

  He knew he was. She stared at him, cheeks flaming, and then she laughed. “Yes, you’re right. I was going on a date with Viera, our first date. But it got interrupted, as you know, and I’ve been a bit busy since.”

  He was gleeful. “I knew I was right.” He drained his coffee and grabbed his jacket. “Right, I’m off. Get things tidied up, and Masters can take it from here on. It’ll give him something to do. Take a couple of days off and give Viera a call. I’m going home.”

  #

  Le Claire opened the door to Sasha’s house. He still couldn’t think of it as home and was ever-conscious that it had been paid for by his father-in-law’s money. He’d take some leave and look at their finances, see about getting a mortgage. They needed their own home.

  Sasha was sitting by the windows in the lounge, coffee mug in hand as she stared out to sea. She turned, and his welcome from her was a huge smile. Her eyes shone with love, and his throat tightened. Her voice was concerned. “I’ve been sitting here since you called. Thank goodness you got that tied up. Are you okay? You look a bit bedraggled.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower he’d taken at the station. “Put it this way; we won’t be going on a cruise anytime soon.”

  He kissed her, a gentle hello between long-time lovers, and sank down next to her on the sofa.

  “More importantly, how are you? How did it go?”