Jasmine Sea

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  “I’ll be there before seven.”

  “I can’t wait. I really can’t wait to see you.”

  After hanging up, Martin straightened. He missed her just as much. Once she came back from New Zealand, he would ask her to move in with him. They belonged together and it was time they began making some serious plans for their future.

  Chapter Forty

  Outside the interrogation room, Trev slammed his open palm into the wall. Rupert refused to say anything, other than to recite that he wanted a lawyer and a smoke.

  Pity that Daphne hadn’t seen his face, only the back of his head which had been concealed beneath a balaclava. A search of the car, now in the hands of forensics, only turned up a car jack that oddly enough was in the back seat.

  Normally on his own at the small station, Trev had help today from the Green Bay uniforms. Gareth manned the phone whilst Jacqui handled the stream of locals who wanted to know what was going on. As he reached the counter, Jacqui was writing a note and glanced up.

  “If one more person asks why you were breaking the speed limit in town, I’ll arrest them for... something.”

  “Oops. Don’t think I was though.”

  “Well, this will serve as a press release.” She taped the note onto the counter. “Hopefully they will let you get on with your work once we leave.”

  “Sir, I just got a call from Senior Constable Mayer,” Gareth said. “Derek Hobbs was out of his office when they went to interview him. He isn’t at his apartment and his secretary either doesn’t know his whereabouts, or is concealing them.”

  “What the hell?” Trev ran a hand through his hair. “You’re telling me that Ingrid Kauffman and Derek Hobbs are both off the radar? What about their vehicles?”

  Gareth checked his notes. “He doesn’t appear to have anything personally registered to him. The Porsche she drives is leased by Hobbs Development International. And it is parked in her garage.”

  “Maybe they ran away together.” Trev leaned against the counter. “You two get some late lunch. Are you right to stay a few more hours?”

  “Sarge told us to stick around as long as you need.” Jacqui said. “Do you want anything?”

  “Not in the mood to eat, but thanks.”

  Alone again a few minutes later, Trev dropped onto his chair. He needed a clear connection between the break-ins and Rupert. And one between Rupert, Ingrid and maybe even Derek. He’d heard bits and pieces about this Hobbs character, none of it good. He’d better keep himself out of River’s End, or it would be a race between himself and Martin as to who got there first.

  ***

  With just one more stop before going to Palmerston House to help Elizabeth, Christie drove along the road to the cottage. She was relaxed after an hour at the hairdressers, her hair now straightened and soft against her neck.

  She left the Lotus on the grass verge. Barry’s truck was in the driveway and there was a flurry of work around the front of the cottage.

  “Hi Christie.” Barry called from near the outline she’d drawn on the front of the cottage. He spoke to one of his men, then joined her on the driveway. “You look nice. All ready for tonight? I believe congratulations are in order.”

  “Oh, thank you. Are you coming along?”

  “Elizabeth asked. Is it okay with you?”

  “Of course! I’d love it.” Christie gave him a hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done!”

  Barry smiled and nodded. “You’re a great client. Anyway, tomorrow we’re going to put the door in. The inside isn’t ready, but there’s no reason not to be prepared. Maybe you and Martin want to take a look together at the artwork and stuff? Don’t really want to touch it.”

  “Yes. Great idea. You expecting another delivery?” Christie turned as a white van pulled up outside.

  “Nope.”

  The van driver opened the side door and pulled out a bunch of roses.

  “Looks like it’s for you. I’ll get back to work and see you later.” Barry wandered off.

  “Miss Ryan?”

  “That’s me.”

  “These are for you.” The driver handed over twelve red roses. “There’s a note.”

  “Oh. Wow, well, thanks.” Christie read the note aloud. “'Meet you on the boat at five p.m.” Martin had changed his mind. Beautiful roses, twelve more to add to the one he’d given her last night. She had just enough time to get to Willow Bay.

  “See you tonight!” She called to Barry, who raised an arm in response. Elizabeth might have to wait. She wasn’t about to stand up her new fiancé.

  ***

  The drive to Willow Bay only took a few minutes, but it was after five when Christie drew into the empty car park. Afraid the roses would wilt in the heat, she’d dropped into Palmerston House on the way, found a vase and left them in the foyer. From the laughter out near the pond, Elizabeth and Angus were enjoying their afternoon and she didn’t interrupt them.

  She tossed her phone and sunglasses into her handbag and locked the car. If anything, the humidity was worse here. Glad she’d stayed in shorts and t-shirt, she elected to keep her sandals on, figuring the sand would be burning.

  From the edge of the water she peered at Jasmine Sea. The glare hurt her eyes, so she put her sunglasses back on. There was a dinghy tied to the stern. He was waiting for her.

  She found the smallest, lightest dinghy and dragged it to the tideline, then put her sandals in her bag. Once in the waves, she jumped as the water lapped her ankles. So warm. But somewhere deep inside, fear still lurked.

  ***

  Rupert banged on the door of the interrogation room. This was bull and he wasn’t about to sit around all night waiting for the charges to come to him.

  “Step back.” With a rattle of keys, the lock turned. Trev closed the door, crossed his arms, and stared at Rupert.

  “I need my phone.”

  “No.”

  “And a cigarette and first, a visit to the toilet.”

  “You can have the last one. Not the others. Come on.” Trev opened the door and gestured for Rupert to go through. “To your left. Then first on the left.” He followed closely behind but stopped short of accompanying Rupert in.

  Rupert did what he had to and washed his hands. At that point, Trev opened the door again. “Right?”

  “Look, I might be willing to tell you some stuff.”

  “Good. Back in the room then.”

  “Mate, I need my phone for a reason. It has information on it that might help you.”

  “Mate, back in the room.” Trev stepped closer and Rupert moved. His stomach still churned and he wanted to sleep. Locked in again, Rupert threw himself onto the chair. Trev returned almost immediately, followed by a female uniformed officer. She stopped just inside the door, expressionless. Trev sat opposite Rupert, holding his phone.

  “What’s on it?”

  “I’m not admitting to nothing. But if I had a voice message from someone that said, plain as day, that they wanted a certain crime committed, what would that do?”

  “You want a deal?”

  Rupert leaned forward. “See, I think you can’t pin anything on me. You didn’t even see me driving under the influence, just sitting in my car. I cut myself shaving and you want to make out that some piece of porcelain did it. I legitimately buy a nice bottle of scotch that just happens to be the same brand stolen from someone and blame me for it.”

  “You done?” Trev looked relaxed. “Nobody mentioned porcelain, so that’s interesting. That bottle of scotch has the fingerprints on it of the owner. As well as you. Interesting. The tyre jack from your car perfectly matches the damage done to the door at Martin’s studio. Interesting. The way I see things, you’ll be spending some quality time in one of our lovely prisons, and I haven’t even got started yet.”

  Hands shaking, Rupert dropped his eyes. He couldn’t go to prison, not with all that money waiting for him. Ingrid and Derek would have deposited it now, so it was too late for them. Too late. He raised
his eyes. “Would you like to hear the messages?”

  Chapter Forty-one

  Elizabeth carried a box of candles into the foyer, past the roses on the table. She looked over her shoulder, and turned around. “Angus?”

  “On my way.” He appeared a few seconds later. “Where would you like this box?”

  “Oh. Just in the dining room, but look.” She nodded to the vase. “They weren’t here earlier.”

  “Odd. Although you were sure you heard the Lotus before, so perhaps they are Christie’s?” He smelt them with a smile. “Not nearly as sweet as yours are.”

  Elizabeth continued into the dining room, colour creeping into her face. Angus joined her and put his box down. “Shall I start decorating the table?”

  She smiled

  “What is that for?” he asked.

  “It just feels as though you’ve been here a long time. That you belong here.” She glanced down as he walked around the table to her side.

  “Palmerston House is superb. You make everyone so welcome, dear lady. Even that new guest managed to give me a smile earlier on, so she is falling under your spell.”

  Her attention suddenly on the candles, Elizabeth unpacked them. “Where do you think Christie disappeared to? Perhaps to see Martin?”

  “Perhaps. Knowing her, she’ll be back soon to help.”

  “Oh, she doesn’t need to do that, not for her own party.”

  “But she will. Few people have such kindness and care for others as our Miss Christie.” Angus took a candle from Elizabeth’s hand. “That is why you both get on so well. Kindred spirits.”

  “Thank you, Angus.” She reached for another candle at the same time as Angus and he took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips

  They gazed at each other. Out in the foyer, the phone began ringing.

  “I’d better... answer that.”

  “Of course.” Angus released her hand and watched her hurry out. In all the years he’d been alone, he’d not once been lonely. Something told him that if he left here, he would become very familiar with the feeling.

  ***

  Halfway to Jasmine Sea, Christie decided that she wasn’t going to tease Martin anymore. She’d fallen straight into his trap because now he wanted to see if she could row in the straight line. Well, she wouldn’t give up.

  She let the dinghy drift whilst she rested, and gazed back to shore. Behind the beach, rising up in a protective semi-circle, was a densely bushed slope. Something glinted in there to the left of the car park. Christie took the oars again and focused on getting to the yacht. To Martin.

  By now he should be standing at the stern, offering some sort of encouragement or enticement. Her throat was parched and she’d forgotten to bring bottled water.

  The breeze dropped and the harbour was quiet. Almost there. She was quite proud of herself, pushing past her silly fears, but Martin could row back, even if they had to pull one dinghy.

  ***

  Trev burst out of the interrogation room, leaving Jacqui to close and lock the door behind them both. He ignored Rupert’s cry of “Hey, what about me?” He wanted a phone. And a detective, because this interview was over until someone with a higher pay grade took control. He couldn’t make deals or start to know what to charge Rupert with.

  “Jacqui, get onto Sarge and ask him to chase up some suits.”

  Jacqui sprinted to catch up with him. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll need this joker taken to Warrnambool. Can’t keep him here and it’s almost time you head off.”

  “We can stay.”

  “No. Once you’ve done that, take Gareth and go. You’ve both been great.” Trev stopped at his desk. “I mean it.”

  Jacqui nodded and got straight onto the phone.

  Trev dialled his own phone. Melbourne was completely outside his area and his experience, but Senior Constable Katrina Mayer lived and breathed the city. They’d gone through academy at the same time but happily embraced their respective postings.

  “Senior Constable Mayer,” she answered.

  “Katrina, it’s Trev Sibbritt.”

  “Thought the number was familiar. Do you have some news?”

  “I have a confession. I can’t do much until he’s properly processed, but he’s dropped himself right in it. And he’s dropped your person of interest right in it with him.”

  “Ingrid Kauffman?”

  “Got some voicemails from her I just listened to. In a nutshell, she directed him to break in to more properties, one being Martin Blake’s studio. Said some pretty damning stuff about Christie Ryan and her cottage. Mentioned Derek Hobbs as being very unhappy if Rupert failed him.”

  “Well, that will help. Not that either of them are around. Send me a transcript and I’ll have a talk to the boss now and see what we can do to escalate the search for Ingrid. Is everything else okay?”

  “Sure. You?”

  “You know. Work. Kids. Never stops, but wouldn’t swap it.”

  “Yeah. A good life.”

  After hanging up, Trev sat on the edge of his desk. He didn’t even know she had kids now. He checked his watch. He wanted to get to Martin and Christie’s party, have a drink with them to celebrate. With a bit of luck, he’d get Rupert out of here in time to shower and head over to Palmerston House.

  ***

  “Do you think I should wear the new shoes, love?” Daphne had three dresses laid on the bed and dangled a pair of shoes from each hand.

  In the ensuite, face streaked with shaving cream, John paused and looked at her in the mirror. “Which are the new ones?”

  “Left hand.”

  “Which dress?”

  “I really want to wear my new shoes and then I can pick the right dress.”

  With a soft sigh, John turned around. “The new shoes will be perfect.”

  “But what if people think that I’m too old for them? They are so high heeled and I would hate to look foolish.” Daphne frowned.

  “Nobody would ever think that, doll. You go ahead and wear them and I guarantee you’ll get some admiring glances.” He wiped his face and wandered out, a towel wrapped around his waist.

  “But it is Christie’s night, not mine! Oh dear, maybe I shouldn’t wear them.”

  John took the new shoes from Daphne and put them on the bed, then the other pair, which he returned to the closet. “It would seem that you only have one pair, so pick a dress.”

  Daphne giggled. “I was being silly, wasn’t I?”

  “A little. And a bit excited.” John kissed her cheek. “We’re going to have a lovely evening and you’ve done well to find such a nice gift on short notice.”

  “Thank you. I just wanted something those two can take on board Jasmine Sea. Martin is so big on his picnics but I know how tiny the galley is. What could be nicer than catching your own fish and cooking them on your own barbecue?” She picked up one dress and held it against herself. “I can’t believe how small they make those covered grills these days. Perfect for when we go camping.”

  “Huh?”

  “When we retire. I was thinking about a little caravan.”

  “That dress is lovely.” He changed the subject as he returned to the ensuite. “I’m going to have a quick shower, then the bathroom is all yours.”

  “Maybe the other dress. Sure, love. We’ve got plenty of time but if we get there early, I can help Elizabeth.”

  The shower turned on and Daphne smiled. She was only half joking about the caravan.

  ***

  Christie perched on the side of the yacht, rubbing tired arms. There was no sign of Martin on deck. Purple storm clouds approached. The air almost crackled with humidity and a hot breeze ruffled her hair. So much for having it straightened. The natural wave was already returning.

  “Martin, I’m here.” She called from the top of the steps. If it was any other time, there might have been a delightful picnic laid out downstairs. Not on the bed, of course, because Martin didn’t believe in eating in bed. “Shall I co
me to you?”

  Only the seagulls answered, circling around the boat in interest. Are you okay? What if he’d fallen? What if he was laying in the galley unconscious? Christie rushed down the steps.

  The galley was empty but a filled ice bucket was on the table. In it, a bottle of champagne. Expensive champagne. Christie turned it in the bucket to be certain. Only last night, she’d told Martin she didn’t like champagne. “Martin! Where are you?”

  Christie forced herself to the bedroom and pushed the half door open. It was dark. Trembling so much that she had to try twice, she found the light switch and turned it on.

  “Hello, baby. You finally made it.” Back against a pile of pillows, legs sprawled on the bed, feet bare, Derek held out his hand. “Grab the glasses, Chris. We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  Martin leaned on the deck railing with a glass of iced tea. Another hour, or two at the most, before River’s End would be engulfed by the storm. By the colour of the clouds and overwhelming humidity, it would drop a bucket load of rain, preceded by hot winds. He intended to be at Palmerston House well before then.

  Trev had just called with the welcome news that Rupert would be charged with a range of offences including drink driving, break and enter, and wilful damage. Even better was the arrest warrant for Ingrid. Although her whereabouts still eluded Melbourne police, Trev said it was just a matter of time.

  “What about Derek?” Martin had asked.

  “He is a person of interest. At this stage, we want a nice chat.”

  “And when will that happen, Trev?”

  “When he’s located.”

  “Located?”

  “Don’t worry. His secretary finally told us he’d driven out to a new development west of the city. Sooner or later he’ll front up at his office or apartment and will be making himself available to answer some interesting questions.”

  “You’re sure he’s not coming here?”

  “I’m fairly sure Melbourne have it under control, Martin. All you need to worry about is dressing up nice for tonight so that your fiancée is proud of you.”