Blood Rights (A Jack Le Claire Mystery)

by Kelly Clayton

  During his years at the London Met, he’d frequently seen the worst of human nature, and it had almost destroyed him. An image slammed into his mind, and nausea rose. He knew what had awoken him. The old nightmare, one he hadn’t had in a while but was now on the agenda nightly. The claustrophobic sense of being trapped, of walls closing in, surrounding him, boxing him away and stealing his breath, his very life. That’s what had happened to April Baines. A teenage runaway with no one to search for her, to go after her, to make sure she came to no harm. She’d fallen into a predator’s path and had died a foul, unthinkable death, buried alive, left for weeks, attempting to claw her way out of her prison. A light sweat had broken out, and his shorts and T-shirt clung to him. He’d need another shower. He eased himself out of bed, careful not to wake the sleeping Sasha. He froze. He’d woken up just as his dream-self had, mirroring reality, as he uncovered the box where April Baines lay. She hadn’t made it. He’d never forget the sight. Never. But that wasn’t what had woken him. It hadn’t been April Baines’s face he’d seen in the makeshift burial chamber. It had been Sasha’s.

  He hadn’t told her about Colin Chapman yet. Each day that went past made it more difficult.

  Regret was a constant bedfellow. He’d battered Colin Chapman unconscious. Chapman had threatened with a vicious blade, thrusting and jabbing as he’d whispered of his foul deeds, the words explicit and sickening. April Baines had been raped, beaten and buried alive. They hadn’t found her for weeks, not until a now-conscious Chapman had delighted in telling him where he’d left a terrified young girl. Le Claire had been too late to save her.

  He’d been cleared of any charges against Chapman but left the Met and returned home. Or more to the point, he’d followed his estranged wife back to their home island. Chapman’s lawyer was some hotshot do-gooder, and he’d walked free. His confession thrown out as only Le Claire had heard him. His team advocated that Le Claire had heard about April from someone else, but he wanted to pin it on Chapman, a man they said he’d falsely accused. The confession was kicked into touch with the taint of a brutality claim against him. He knew that bastard killed April, and she wouldn’t have been the first. It was believed there could be up to a dozen more. In contacting him the piece of shit toyed with him. He could handle anything himself, but he feared his working life spilling into his personal life. Sasha wasn’t a part of this, and he had to keep her safe.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Le Claire stared at the body of Susan Jones. She lay facedown on the metal gurney, the sheet pulled back, exposing the pale flesh of her naked back, the skin broken and discoloured. “Do we know what caused the bruises?”

  Yasser Ahuja was the medical examiner. Outside work, he had a happy, smiling face and a jokey demeanour. None of that was on display now as he used a sterile probe to point to the round bruises. “The deceased was hit by several small, hard objects at what must have been substantial velocity.”

  “But I assume that isn’t what killed her?”

  “Correct. She was bludgeoned with a heavy instrument that fractured the skull and caused a bleed to the brain. She would have died instantly.”

  He turned to Dewar. “Who found her?”

  She opened her phone and scrolled through the notes on her screen. “A neighbour, a Mrs Forbes, was concerned that she hadn’t seen Susan return from her usual nightly walk. She called her grandson and asked him to look around the fields. He found Susan. She was already dead. Her dog was lying unconscious by her side.”

  “What about the scene?”

  “The teams got to work straight away, erecting a barrier around the field and covering it with tarpaulin. They started work at first light.”

  “At least it didn’t rain last night, and they managed to secure and protect the scene. Tell Vanguard I want an update as soon as possible. What about the animal?”

  “It’s fine. It was taken to the on-call vet. It had been tranquilised. Possibly administered through food.”

  Le Claire ran a hand through his hair and drew it across his brow. Kurt Englebrook was trapped in a locked tower and burned to death. His trusted employee was bludgeoned to death days later. He didn’t like coincidences.

  ◆◆◆

  Riley Jones lived in one of the trendy town apartments that overlooked the marina. One entire wall was covered in glass, and Le Claire was momentarily distracted by the sun glancing off the glistening water and the gently bobbing boats in their high-end moorings, as an ashen-faced Riley struggled through denial and disbelief to comprehend what he’d been told.

  “It’s got to be someone else. It can’t be Mum. I spoke to her last night. Have you been to her office? I’m sure that’s where she is. She will have a lot to do there. Have you tried to call her? I’ll do it.” His gaze was erratic as he apparently looked for the phone.

  Dewar was always much better at this than him. She could still act professionally yet, in a way, forget she was there on police duty and extend comfort to the individual.

  She said, “I am so sorry. There is no mistake. The DCI and I identified that it was indeed your mother. We’ll need you to do so as well for the record, but I’m afraid there is no mistake. I think perhaps it would be a good thing for you to do that as soon as possible. For you to understand that your mother is gone.”

  He stood and paced the room. “I don’t get it. This is Jersey. It’s still one of the safest places to live. People don’t get attacked like that here. Well, hardly ever. Mum walks the dog every night around that time and always takes the same route. Why on earth would that happen now?”

  “We don’t know, but what is clear is that it doesn’t appear to have been an accident. I’m afraid that Mrs Jones was badly beaten. The medical examiner is completing the autopsy, but he believes she suffered a bleed on the brain and would have died almost immediately.”

  Riley’s legs gave way, and he stumbled backwards, falling onto the sofa. “I can’t take this in. She can’t be gone.” His eyes beseeched them to tell him they were lying, that they’d made a mistake. Le Claire only wished they could.

  Dewar asked, “You say that your mum walked that way every night round about the same time?”

  “What? Sorry, yes, that’s right. We got Khan three years ago, and he spends a lot of time with Mum. When she goes away, which is frequent for business, Khan comes to live with me. But if Mum is in Jersey, the dog is with her, and she walks those fields every night without fail.”

  “So people would be aware of that?” Le Claire asked.

  “Anyone who knew Mum, or frankly anyone who watched her habits, would know where she would be around 9:00 p.m. every night. She rarely went out of an evening, and even if she had friends around for dinner, she topped up their glasses and popped out for at least ten minutes with the dog. Also, I am sure she had a sneaky ciggie on those walks. She supposedly gave up smoking years ago, but I think a night-time smoke was her secret pleasure. But she walked to give Khan a nightly race around the fields. She did it every morning as well. She loved him.” He looked up quickly. “Oh my God, I haven’t even asked about him. Where is he? Did he run off? Have you found him?”

  “The dog will be fine and is with the vet. He was sedated. It’s believed the tranquiliser was in some meat.”

  “I’ll have to go and get him. He loves Mum. He’ll be so upset. Yes, I need to go and get him now.”

  Le Claire could tell that Riley was putting his need for action, and gaining a smidgeon of control, into making sure the dog was safe.

  “Of course. However, may I ask you to come with us first? I think it would be best if you formally identified your mother straightaway.”

  Riley straightened in his chair and slowly nodded his agreement. He stood and asked, “Do you have any idea who did this?”

  “We’re putting all our resources into finding out.”

  Riley shook his head. “Don’t you find it strange that my mother’s boss is killed in violent circumstances, and not a week later my mother also di
es? And from the sounds of it, it wasn’t an accident.”

  Le Claire had to agree, but he wasn’t going to say that at this stage. “We are looking into the circumstances and all eventualities.”

  “Isn’t this the point you would normally ask someone if Mum had any enemies? She didn’t. But she inherited a huge chunk of land that could potentially have great value. Oh, and her son doesn’t want the land developed. I think there’s a motive there, don’t you? Well, I suggest you go and have a word with the Englebrooks.”

  Dewar said, in a soothing voice, “Please, I know this must be such a distressing time. But it’s best not to make accusations.”

  He sagged, suddenly looking much older than his years. “I know. I mean, what benefit could they get out of Mum being dead? I’m her only heir, but this doesn’t feel right.”

  Feelings aside, Le Claire now had two sudden and highly suspicious deaths to solve. And little to go on.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Le Claire’s hands formed a steeple against his mouth as, elbows on the table, he stared at the computerised crime board on the screen. They had barely moved forward on the Englebrook death, and now they had Susan Jones to consider. He sighed and pushed out of his chair, calling out to the Incident Team, “Gather round. We need to catch up and formulate our next steps. You are all aware that the body of Susan Jones was found in the fields behind her house late last night. Susan Jones acted as a personal financial adviser to Kurt Englebrook. We have to consider that there may be a connection here. Her death was violent.”

  Bryce Masters grimaced, his sparkling teeth on show. “The woman was walking alone at night, through dark fields. She could have come across some druggie. It’s not as if they’re uncommon on the island.”

  Le Claire had to concede the point. “You’re right. Drug-related crimes are increasing, and they range from theft to senseless violence. Susan’s house keys were still in her possession, so theft can be ruled out. We can’t rule out that this situation may be unrelated to Englebrook. But the dog was tranquilised, which points to premeditation. This was no accident. Check out the drug activity in the area, just in case.”

  Masters nodded, and Le Claire turned to Hunter. “Look at the past connection between Susan and Englebrook. Verify what we’ve been told.”

  Dewar asked, “Are you concerned about whether they had a personal relationship?”

  “I don’t know. They did work together, closely, for some time; Susan was an attractive woman, and Kurt was known to have a wandering eye. Not that that necessarily means anything, but I want us to cover all the bases. We’ll need to speak to her lawyer.”

  He pulled his jacket on and headed towards the exit, halting, he turned and said to Hunter, “Don’t forget to look into her financials and make sure everything stacks up.”

  They made their way to Susan Jones’s home. Vanguard’s team was already there. They would take the place apart, removing laptops, telephones and paperwork as necessary. That would allow his team access to every part of Susan’s life. This always gave him pause. People lived their lives as they wanted to, and most didn’t prepare for the day when others would have full access to all their personal data and, potentially, secrets. Unfortunately, the dead had little privacy.

  Le Claire made his way, careful not to touch anything, through Susan Jones’s home. Vanguard was in the bedroom.

  “What are you doing here? Checking up that I’m doing my job properly?”

  “Hardly. We came here to see if there was any obvious evidence of who Susan Jones’s lawyer is. Dewar tried to call the son, but he isn’t answering his phone.”

  “There’s a small study at the back of the house. We haven’t started going through there yet, but I can make it a priority.”

  “Yes, please, that would be good.

  “There is also a huge pile of papers in the bedroom. We’ll take those away as well and start sifting through them.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Most of this would be redundant, but they had to check everything.

  Le Claire’s mobile rang, and he lifted an eyebrow when he saw the caller ID. He quickly answered. “Paul, how can I help you?”

  Paul Armstrong said, “I’ve heard about Susan. Absolutely shocking news. I thought you might like to know that I was her lawyer. I thought I would save you some time. And before you ask, her only heir is the son.”

  “So Riley Jones gets everything?”

  “Yes, that’s correct. I didn’t have an ongoing client relationship with Susan, but I did do her will. Given the amount of business we got from Englebrook and his UK lawyer, I was happy to do wills for his connections at a much-reduced rate.”

  “The son inherits the Englebrook land.”

  “There’s something you need to know. I’ve called a meeting with the Englebrook family. Susan’s death alters the line of inheritance.”

  ◆◆◆

  Rudy faced Armstrong, aghast. “Why the hell did my father remove the thirty-day rider from his latest will?”

  Le Claire kept his eyes on Rudy, whose shock at this revelation was unmistakable.

  “Kurt had a change of heart and was adamant that if someone inherited from him, they shouldn’t have to wait thirty days and face their own heirs losing rights to the assets.”

  Rudy sagged. “So now that Susan is dead, Riley Jones gets the company, ergo he gets the land.”

  “No, not exactly.

  Nils leaned forward. “Who gets the land?”

  Armstrong looked at them and their mother. “The company will be dealt with following the last will and testament of Susan Jones.”

  Jessica paced the room. “And the land is owned by the company, so it all ends up in Riley’s hands.”

  Armstrong shook his head, although whether in denial of the statement or disgust at Jessica’s manner, he had no idea. “The deed assigning the land from Kurt’s ownership into the company held a claw-back provision.”

  Le Claire said, “I’m sorry, what does that mean?”

  “It meant that should Kurt die, and a development agreement hadn’t yet been signed with a third party, the assignment of the title was null and void and, crucially, for the matter of our discussion, the land and the house should revert to being one title.”

  Rudy took all this in, and his gaze shot to his mother. “Does that mean . . . ?”

  Armstrong nodded. “Yes, the land belongs to you, Eva.”

  ◆◆◆

  Chloe hugged her arms tight across her chest as she stomped her feet, trying to generate some heat. There were only a few campervans parked along the boardwalk, a result of the latest crackdowns, but Riley’s was defiantly in place. The States were throwing out orders here and there that parking was limited, all to curtail those who loved the semi-transient lifestyle of camping in their vans, at least for some of the time. Riley had a flat in town but rarely seemed to be anywhere but here.

  A yellow glow illuminated the small window, the interior of the van obscured by closed, slatted blinds. She knocked and drew back in surprise as the door opened almost immediately. Riley wore faded jeans and nothing else. She’d seen him in board shorts and an unzipped wet suit, so seeing his bare chest shouldn’t have affected her. But it did. His broad shoulders, tanned six-pack and slim waist, drew her eye. She swallowed.

  “Seen your fill?”

  Was she that obvious? She ignored her burning cheeks. That wasn’t important now. There was a gravelled edge to his voice, and his usual relaxed manner was replaced with tension and red-rimmed, grief-shadowed eyes. “I heard about your mum. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe it. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She shook her head. “Sorry, that sounded stupid. Of course, you aren’t all right. I just wanted to see you.” Those were probably the most unguarded words she’d ever spoken to him, or anyone else.

  His large frame blocked the door, one arm bent, his hand resting against the doorjamb. He stared at her, unblinking, as if looking through, past her. Eventually, he moved to the side and,
with a wave of his arm, beckoned her to enter. “You better come in.”

  Chloe entered and shuffled around as Riley closed the door. She turned, almost bumping into him in the tiny space. He indicated the small bench that had been made into a bed. “Take a seat. Sorry about the mess.”

  He popped open a beer and handed it to her. “Here. I’m tired of drinking alone.”

  Riley’s hair was ruffled, his eyes dull. “Thanks for coming. I’ve holed up here since this morning and pretty much stayed locked in the van.”

  The only other chair was occupied by Khan, Susan’s sad-eyed dog, yet Riley looked around as if an extra chair would magically materialise. He sat next to her. “I can’t believe this. I can’t take it in.”

  He leaned forward and absentmindedly scratched the dog’s head, which led to drooping eyes and gentle snores. “Poor fella had a rough time. The bastard gave him drugged meat. It knocked him out, and he was found lying beside Mum.”

  Chloe replayed his words in her mind. “You mean this wasn’t an accident? What happened? We heard that Susan was discovered in the woods by her place.”

  “That’s true, but she was attacked. She always walks Khan before bed, no matter the weather, every damn night. Her head . . .” His voice broke, and he paused.

  She took his hand in hers and soothed, “Take your time.”

  He swallowed and continued, his voice catching. “Mum was beaten about the head, severely, causing bleeding on the brain, and the only slight consolation is that they say she’d have died almost immediately.” He downed his beer and opened another.