Blood Ties: Obsession, secrets, desire and murder (A Jack Le Claire Mystery)

by Kelly Clayton

  Le Claire tensed. “Go on.”

  “We’ve had word that Chapman is claiming intimidation and police brutality.”

  He exploded out of his chair. “This has to be a joke. We’ve been down this road already, and I was cleared of any wrongdoing.”

  Gareth’s voice was calm, aimed at soothing. “I know, but the context is different this time. No one doubted that you had to use extreme force to get him to stop. He also had at least one knife on him that he wasn’t afraid to use. He slashed your arm up pretty good.”

  Le Claire touched his left arm in an automatic motion. The visible scars had healed fine. He sighed. “So what’s being said now?”

  There was a pause, infinitesimal, but enough for him to know he was not going to like whatever came out of Gareth’s mouth next.

  “His defence team is saying that he’s terrified of you. That you had it in for him and just wanted to pin the blame on someone so you didn’t look like you couldn’t do your job. They’re citing the speed with which you’ve moved up the ranks and saying that you couldn’t afford to fail. That you had to get someone charged for these crimes. All young girls, emotive stuff.”

  “Bullshit! He told me where he’d left April Baines. Let’s not forget the bastard buried her alive.”

  Gareth rubbed at his temples. “I know, I know. Fact is, you were alone in that hospital room with Chapman apart from a nurse who is now saying she couldn’t exactly overhear what you both said. His lawyers are claiming that you found out about April from other sources and that you came to Chapman before searching for her to make it look like he was the one who told you where she was. Chapman is saying he never told you anything, that he never confessed, and he’s been too scared until now to speak up.”

  Le Claire picked up the inference. “So that’s what the scene on Wednesday was about. This is utter nonsense.”

  “I know. But it keeps Chapman on remand and out of a courtroom, giving his team more time to spin their fabrications and throw mud at you.”

  “What should I do?” He felt like a probationer again, looking to his mentor for guidance.

  “For the moment? Nothing at all. The prosecution will work with us to get this sorted out.”

  His stomach was knotted, and his head was starting to pound. He didn’t need this, not today.

  #

  Irena awoke slowly, and it took a moment for the foggy cloud of sleep to clear enough for her to remember. She lay flat on her back and willed the shadowed, jumbled memories to become clearer. After her dance. She had, oh God, she had seen Ana, beautiful innocent Ana, and run away, her shame racing after her. How could she ever look at her now? Especially after what had happened later.

  She had cried herself to sleep after he had gone. The man who professed to love her had rummaged in her bag and taken her mobile and tablet before leaving her, alone in the dark, without a word. She’d heard the unmistakable click of the lock turning and had rushed to the door, banging on it for the bastard to let her out. She had winced and rested a hand against the door frame to steady herself.

  He had been rough, and she could feel a dull ache between her legs. Her head ached too, and she regretted not taking the beautiful pills. Why did she have to remember? Why couldn’t she stay in oblivion? Why?

  She lay back down on the bed, unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling. The air was heavy, and dust motes floated in the light beams. Christ only knew what time it was. She rolled over onto her side and froze when she heard a noise.

  The door opened, and there he was.

  She tried to keep her voice strong and hated that it wobbled. “I don’t understand? I thought we were going to be together now? I’ve done everything you wanted. If that isn’t enough, can’t you just let me go, please?”

  “Afraid not. You don’t leave until I kick you out, and I’m not ready to do that yet.” He tossed a paper bag onto the bed. It bounced, and the contents – a croissant, small sandwich and a bottle of water – spilled out onto the cover. “That should see you through most of the day. Oh, don’t go anywhere, will you?”

  His mocking laugh filled the air but didn’t mask the locking of the door as he left. She looked around her prison and silently screamed.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Le Claire chewed on a slice of spicy pepperoni pizza as he mentally reviewed their plans. He sighed at the thought of what Sasha would say if she knew he’d had pizza two nights in a row. Then he remembered she wasn’t talking to him. She certainly wasn’t answering his calls. He drew his mind back to the investigation. Everything was in order; the cooperation paperwork was in place. Le Claire and Dewar would accompany Penny and Graves to the club. Barnes and a uniform would provide backup support in case matters got out of hand. Danny was going to be picked up for questioning in relation to procurement and solicitation of prostitution, the attack on Laura Brown and, for good measure, the blackmail of Sir Hugh Mallory.

  He filched another slice from the open cardboard delivery boxes that were littered over the meeting table. The team was having some sustenance and ironing out any last-minute issues. He thought that at another time it would be good to sit with this crowd of people and talk shop and simply relax. His eyes flicked across the table to Penny. Maybe not with her though. He was sure she’d pulled a fast one and that she’d clocked the ID and seen it was Sasha calling before she answered his phone. He didn’t want to analyse that too deeply; didn’t want to wonder if he had led Penny on, even if he hadn’t realised it.

  He brushed away any thoughts of his personal life. He suddenly realised that Sasha was right; there were times, like this, when his job did take precedence over their relationship. He was a husband, but he was also a policeman, and when conflicts arose, he couldn’t run home to pacify his wife. He had a job to do. The knot of worry that maybe this time Sasha was done for good wouldn’t go away though, so he’d bury it deeper until all this was over.

  Dewar was thinking. He could see it on her face, the way she stared at one spot on the table, unblinking. “The money Scott was paying to the foundation. What if it wasn’t blackmail to keep quiet about Laura’s past, but about Ana’s beginnings?”

  He gave her his full attention. “Now that would narrow the field. I’m sure more people knew about Laura than ever had a thought that the moral-crusader Sarah Hamlyn had an affair that resulted in a child. But why would the blackmailer kill Scott? He was their cash cow. Look at the money floating in the pool; he was happy to pay and pay, by the looks of it.”

  She sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But if Danny Gillespie is our blackmailer, we’ll be asking him these questions later tonight.”

  #

  Ana was having the best of days. She’d mooched through London, peered in the windows of some job agencies and lunched alfresco at Covent Garden, people-watching and staring, enthralled, at the street entertainers. She’d pushed Irena from her mind. She didn’t know where her friend was, and her calls weren’t being picked up.

  Ben had phoned, and they’d met by the Embankment and sipped chilled rosé as they watched the river boats and cruisers glide past on the Thames. They’d meandered through the London streets, talking and laughing until they reached the apartment. Dinner was a quiet affair at a Thai restaurant. And now they were back at the club.

  Ben was apologetic. “I need to have a chat with Aidan about today’s meeting. He stayed on to have a drink with the buyer, and I just hope he didn’t scupper the deal. He can get feisty.”

  “No problem. Maybe I could try and find Irena whilst we’re here. I just want to speak to her.”

  He gave her a long, intense look. “I’m not sure what you’ll find. Sometimes people just want to be lost.”

  “I know, but I need to try.”

  “Come on, then.”

  She followed Ben through to the back of the club. Away from the gloss and glitter of the front, backstage was functional and
business like. Ben stopped in front of a closed door. There was a froth of laughter floating through the wood, and cheap perfume scented the air. He gave her a sheepish half smile and pushed the door open. The noise increased, and Ana drew back, suddenly unsure of what lay ahead. Half a dozen girls, all in various stages of undress, were putting on makeup, teasing their hair and applying fake tan; the pungency of the latter made Ana gag slightly.

  Ben strode into the middle of the room, and Ana saw a light blush cover his face in response to the catcalls from the girls. A statuesque brunette with gleaming, dark skin turned away from the mirror and faced them. “Ben, what are you doing here? Not your usual haunt.” She peered behind him at Ana. “I see you brought your own entertainment. Nice.” There was a bubble of laughter in her voice mingled with sultry French accent, and Ana couldn’t take offence.

  “Marianne, this is Ana. She’s looking for her friend Irena, who’s working here.”

  Marianne looked her up and down. “She isn’t here tonight. I guess she is off. Sorry.” With that, she turned back to the mirror.

  “She’s left.” The voice came from a bored-looking blonde who was perched on the dressing table counter, one leg bent as she applied shiny red polish to her toenails.

  Ben asked, “I don’t think we’ve met before. Who are you?”

  “Misty Bennett, who are you?” Her bored look had disappeared, her head was tilted flirtatiously and Ana thought the woman was going to lick her lips. Ben was a good-looking guy, but Ana had a feeling the likes of Misty Bennett were more interested in his expensive-looking clothes and the watch on his wrist. Ana decided to break up Misty’s daydream. “What do you mean Irena has left? Where has she gone?”

  Misty rolled her eyes. “I’m not her keeper, how would I know? I just got a call to say I had to work tonight ‘cos Irena wasn’t coming back.”

  Ben addressed the room in general. “And no one knows any more?”

  He was met by blank looks and silence. “Right, thanks.” He took Ana’s hand and led her from the room. Now she had no idea where Irena was. Did her friend want to avoid her so much that she had given up her job? Ana didn’t know where to turn next.

  #

  Ana was still waiting for Ben. He’d told her to stay at the end of the bar, next to Mike, the leering bouncer. She’d lasted five minutes before she’d sidled to the bar and ordered a drink. Then she’d wished she had stayed where she was. The glances aimed in her direction were direct and calculating. She self-consciously pulled at the front of her top to make sure it hadn’t dipped too low. She wished she had worn different clothes, but she had wanted to look her best for Ben. Her tight jeans and high heels were topped by a silky top with tiny straps that fully exposed her smooth shoulders. Her hair, soft and shining, cascaded down her back.

  The thunderous music and flashing lights from the stage disorientated her. The crush of people, mainly men, gave a threatening tinge to an atmosphere that already seemed heavy with menace.

  “Hey, sweetheart, join me for a drink.” She turned and faced the speaker, a middle-aged man of average height with a florid face and a shirt that strained to contain his stomach. It was the predatory look in his eyes that was the worst. His hand held tight to her bare arm, and Ana winced as his fingers dug into her skin.

  She looked around, vainly, in the hope of getting some help. No one was looking. They were all too intent on their own pleasures and vices.

  She found her voice, kept it firm. “No thanks, I’m with someone.”

  “But he’s not here, sweetheart, and I am. So come and be nice to me.”

  He pulled her toward him just as a dark-clad arm snaked out and removed the hand that was restraining her. “There you are. Come along, darling.”

  Ana turned with relief and registered surprise as she looked into Danny Gillespie’s handsome face. He turned to the man. “Sorry, I’ll have to steal this lovely away from you.” With a flick of his fingers, he summoned the bartender. “A bottle of champagne for the gentleman, please, on the house.”

  The man lost his belligerent expression and smiled. “Thanks,” he turned to Ana and winked, “when he’s done with you, feel free to come back and look for me, if I’m not otherwise occupied, that is.” And he laughed.

  Ana shivered as she felt Danny tense. His voice was icy, and from the expression on the other man’s face, his features no doubt looked as cold as he sounded.

  “She’s with me, okay?”

  The man nodded, looking a little pale. “I didn’t mean any offence, sorry.”

  Danny turned to Ana and steered her toward the door to the offices. “Come on; let’s get you out of here. Where’s Ben?”

  She gratefully followed him. “He had to speak to your brother. Ben told me to stay where I was and not move but…”

  He flashed a smile. “You moved, huh?”

  She could feel the blush spreading across her face. “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry. You can wait in my office. Come on in.”

  Without asking, he poured her a generous glass of red wine from a half empty bottle that sat on his desk. He picked up the desk phone and dialled a number. “Hi, it’s me. If you see Ben, can you send him into my office? Tell him Ana is waiting for him here.”

  He gestured for her to sit, and she sank into a leather armchair. Danny rested on the edge of the desk, his legs stretched out in front of him. “So, Ana, did you ever speak to your friend – what was she called again?”

  “Irena, and no. She didn’t call me. I came here with Ben tonight in the hope I would see her, but she is not here. One of the girls says she has left. I think maybe I frightened her away.”

  He looked a little disinterested. “Girls come and go here. They earn a little money and then move on; sometimes they find someone to look after them. Someone who will keep them around on a more permanent basis.”

  While he was speaking, he had opened another bottle of wine and poured himself a huge glass; he drained half of it. Ana realised that although Danny seemed okay, his eyes were glassy and a little unfocussed. He looked like he’d been drinking a lot, and suddenly she didn’t feel comfortable. She’d go and wait back in the bar near the door to the offices; surely, Ben wouldn’t be that long, and he’d soon come to collect her.

  She stood up. “I think I should go now. Thank you for the drink, but I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

  Ana had to pass Danny to get to the door. She gasped as he reached out, grabbed her arm and pulled her back. He trapped her against him and smirked. “Not so fast. Stay for a bit. Then we’ll see what happens.”

  She pushed her upper body as far away from him as possible. His arms had snaked around her waist and held tight. “Ben will be here soon.” She realised there was a warning in her voice, and she hoped it was justified. Ben relied on the Gillespies for a living. Would he stand up for her?

  “No, he won’t, love I didn’t switch the handset on, so I didn’t tell anyone to let him know where you are. No one’s coming.”

  As Danny bent his head to kiss her, Ana struggled, and as she did so, a bubbling rage coursed through her. She was sick of being vulnerable, of people – mainly men – trying to take advantage, but most of all she was sick of herself for her timidity. Ana realised she only had herself to rely on.

  “Leave me alone, I mean it.”

  His mirthless laugh echoed through the room. She took a deep breath, eyed the distance to the door and, raising her leg as fast as she could, kneed Danny Gillespie directly in the balls.

  “Arghhh, you bitch.”

  He released her and, bending over, cupped himself. Ana ran for the door. She stumbled and went down on one knee. Her bag fell to the ground, the contents spilling out. She quickly stuffed everything back inside, tucked the bag under her arm and ran toward the door.

  His voice hollered after her. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, what I can do to girls like you. I’ll make you sorry.” His voice
trailed away and finished on a groan.

  Ana wrenched open the door and sped down the hallway. The entrance to the bar was unguarded on this side. She slowed, opened the door and sailed past the goon standing outside.

  The man barely glanced at her before he went back to scanning his mobile. Ana looked around. The place was heaving, and the sleaze factor had edged up a notch or two. A topless dancer was gyrating on the stage; the way she was suggestively fingering the ties of her string bikini bottoms had the crowd screaming, their obscenities seeming to egg her on. Ana had no doubt that the girl would be completely naked in a moment, and she didn’t want to be around when that happened.

  She headed toward the exit with not a little trepidation. She didn’t know what was worse, staying inside this club where she was now sure the few females present offered more than a dance or a cocktail, or to go and hang about outside in the dark. She’d take her chances with the night.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Le Claire was ready. He was with Dewar, Penny and Graves. There was no doubt in his mind that Danny Gillespie was guilty. Guilty of many things, not all that had been proven yet. Intel said he was in the building, and they were going to bring him in for questioning. The woman at the front had been challenging, to say the least. It was only when he had threatened to call the entire Met into the building that she had relented.

  They’d followed her through the club, thick with smells of booze and sex and anticipation. She led them through a door, past a growling bouncer, and stopped and indicated to her left. “In there.”

  She entered the room first. “Danny, I’m sorry. It’s the police.”

  Danny Gillespie stood as they came in. His eyebrows rose as he welcomed Le Claire. “This is a surprise, Detective; you’ve come all the way from Jersey to see me, and with your redoubtable sidekick.” His gaze flicked past Dewar and rested on Penny. “Now who is this lovely? Let me see your pretty smile.”

  Penny’s smile was non-existent.