At the ground-floor level, wide bifold doors had been swept open, granting access to a large room that was entirely white, from the painted wooden ceiling to the stone fireplace and the white floor tiles flecked with tiny light-reflecting crystals. The huge sofas were off-white linen, the only colour in the room coming from the brightly coloured dust jackets lining the floor-to-ceiling bookcases.
Sam spoke quietly, “I understand that Kate had already picked the caterers and the menu. Paul said she updated them every year or so.”
A genuine smile crossed Grace’s face at this last example of Kate’s determination to plan the perfect party. She had wanted an elegant send-off, and that was precisely what she was getting.
Sam lifted two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and handed one to Grace. She took a sip from the crystal flute, the pale pink liquid slipping down her throat in a rush of effervescent bubbles.
Grace and Sam were quietly talking to Susannah, who had just joined them when the older woman became distracted by something that had caught her attention.
“Oh, dear,” murmured Susannah. “Brace yourself. A tornado is headed in our direction.”
A tall woman, her cap of shiny dark hair perfectly styled, strode up to them, a brittle smile pasted on her face. Her black pencil skirt sat a little too high on suntanned legs, her toned calves showcased by her vertiginous high-heeled pumps. The V-neck of her tightly buttoned jacket exposed an expanse of cleavage, the soft creping of skin betraying her age in a way her carefully preserved and enhanced face never would. She reached out and tugged Grace towards her, enveloping her in a quick, awkward hug. The woman kissed each of Grace’s cheeks in turn and then held her at arm’s length.
“Well. You are a sweet one. There’s a bit of Kate about you, but that can’t be helped. She really did not age well at all. You need to look after yourself as you get older.”
Grace wasn’t quite sure if she’d been insulted. She figured that a low blow had definitely been aimed at Kate but wasn’t too sure about herself.
“Darling, I’m your Aunt Harriet”
“Great-aunt isn’t it?” Sam said.
A fierce look came into Harriet’s eyes as she snapped, “Oh, it’s you. Make yourself useful and get me a drink.”
Sam moved closer to Grace as he gestured to a passing waiter.
Harriet grabbed the proffered glass and greedily drained half of it in one gulp. She moved slightly so that she effectively blocked Sam and was closer to Grace. “My dear girl, you look exhausted. Must be jet lag—poor you. You didn’t have time to go and get your hair done either.”
Grace self-consciously brought her hand up to smooth her hair. She hadn’t realised she looked so bad.
“Let’s have a quiet chat.” Harriet steered her away from the Averys.
Glancing back, Grace saw Sam move as if to follow them, but Susannah placed a warning hand on his arm. Harriet manoeuvred Grace across the lawn towards a wooden bench set under the branches of a spreading oak.
Grace found her voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Great-Aunt.”
Harriet’s finely plucked eyebrows shot up, and she quickly looked around to see if anyone had overheard. “No need to stand on ceremony. Call me Harriet. I am, after all, much younger than Kate and Emily. First, your grandmother, now Kate, and I’m the last one left—all on my own.”
Grace felt a tug of sympathy. Harriet sounded sincere in her grief.
“Anyway, I take it you won’t be here for long. I assume Paul Armstrong still deals with Kate’s affairs and will get on with the reading of the will. I presume it’s to be later today when everyone else has gone?”
She felt the first stirrings of trouble ahead. “Actually, I think Paul pretty much dealt with it yesterday.”
Harriet’s head snapped up. “Yesterday? Who was present? What did the will say? Tell me!”
Harriet grabbed her in a vice-like grip. Long nails dug into the flesh of her upper arms. Grace felt a moment of real fear as she saw the feral look in Harriet’s eyes—primitive, stripped of all civility. Grace took an involuntary step back.
“Sam and I were there, but I think you should speak to Paul Armstrong if you’d like to know more.”
Over Harriet’s shoulder, Grace saw the Averys approach. It seemed as if whatever sense of decorum Harriet may have possessed had fled at this unexpected turn of events. Her face a cold mask, she demanded, “Tell me what the will said. What’s my cut? I got the house, didn’t I? Tell me.”
Richard Avery laid a gentle but firm hand on Harriet’s back. “For God’s sake, Harriet, don’t make a scene, not today of all days.”
Harriet shrugged Richard’s hand away, stepping past him as he tried to block her. Almost running, she bumped into other mourners in her haste to find Paul Armstrong.
CHAPTER FIVE
As Harriet rounded the pool, she saw the lawyer standing with an elderly couple. Furiously pushing past them, she demanded, “What is all this nonsense I hear? That you allowed those two,” she almost spat the words as she threw a scathing glance towards Grace and Sam, “to hear the contents of my sister’s will without me being present? I was her nearest relative. I’ll report you to the Law Society for this.” Harriet’s voice finished with a screech.
“Harriet, this is neither the time nor the place for this discussion. Come into the study, where we can talk in private.”
“No!” Her voice had risen, drawing the attention of all those milling around the gardens. People looked away, embarrassed by the display, and an unmistakable tension had entered the air. She didn’t give a damn. “I have a right, every right, to know what she left me. I want to know now!” She was snarling by this point, her face contorting in anger as her cheeks burned.
“Very well, Harriet. You asked for this. The will has been read in the presence of the beneficiaries. You weren’t invited as you are not a beneficiary of Kate’s will, meaning that, no, you don’t have any rights. That’s all I have to say. Please allow those here to do what they came for. To mourn Kate.”
He walked away. Harriet stood utterly still, her mouth gaping open.
“Harriet, love. You all right?”
She turned at the voice. Ray Perkins was running to fat, the buttons of his expensive black suit straining almost beyond endurance. However, the fat hid a layer of muscle and covered up what not long ago had been a well-toned body. The material stretched across his broad shoulders, and his loosened tie and limp collar gave him a dishevelled look. Harriet sighed; he’d looked pristine this morning, for once, but it never lasted long. The expensive watch and elegant clothes were at odds with his rough manners, but she didn’t care. His balding head and poorly healed broken nose seemed menacing—although his attitude towards Harriet was anything but.
“Oh, Ray, did you hear what that awful man said. Did you?”
“Yes, I did. You’ve got rights. We’ve talked about this before—seems to reason as you were Kate’s closest relative. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Harriet let Ray put a protective arm around her as he led her towards the drive. “I’m due something from that bitch’s estate, and I mean to get it. I had expectations.”
“I know, love. We both did,” replied Ray as he wearily led her off the property.
◆◆◆
Paul Armstrong joined a shaken Grace, Sam and his parents.
“Well,” Grace broke the uncomfortable silence. It was her great-aunt, after all. “She is definitely not happy. I’ve never met Harriet before and rarely heard her mentioned. I don’t believe she was at all close to my grandmother.”
Susannah snorted. “She wasn’t, dear. Harriet is a first-class bitch, and your Aunt Kate couldn’t stand her. This is the first time she’s set foot at Rocque View in years.” Susannah’s acid tone contrasted with her previous warmth. “Forgive me. Harriet is still your family, and my comments were uncalled for. I must admit that I do have quite strong feelings towards Harriet, but I should have kept them to myself.”
�
��It’s fine, Susannah. I’ve only just met Harriet, but I think I’m developing similarly strong feelings myself. Who was the gentleman she left with?”
Susannah gently shook her head. “I don’t think Ray Perkins has ever been called a gentleman before. He and Harriet have been in a relationship for a while. He owns a car sales business and seems to do well, but he’s never quite polished off his rough edges. From what I can tell, they deserve each other.”
◆◆◆
Sam drove Grace back to her hotel. She had stayed and paid her respects to Kate for an hour or so, but the conversation with Harriet unsettled her. She needed some space, time to reflect. “You don’t have to see me to the foyer.”
“It’s no problem. I guess we need to talk. We’re going to have to let Paul Armstrong know our final decision about the house. I’m assuming you haven’t changed your mind?”
“It just isn’t possible. I have a job, a relationship, a life. It breaks my heart to disrespect Kate’s wishes, but I can’t move here. I just can’t.”
“I get it. I completely understand.”
The hotel’s glass doors were wide open. A man in a smart suit and a young woman in dark trousers and a slightly mismatched jacket stood in conversation with the Concierge. He noticed Grace and pointed in her direction, and the strangers made their way to her.
The man strode forward. “Grace Howard?”
“Yes, may I help you?”
“I hope so. I am Detective Chief Inspector Le Claire, and this is Detective Sergeant Dewar. We got your details from the funeral directors.”
Le Claire was dark-haired, and Grace figured many would consider him handsome. He was tall, certainly over six feet, with a lean and muscular build. Broad shoulders were shown to advantage by a well-cut, grey suit. His white shirt had crease lines along the front; either it was new, or he had his shirts dry-cleaned and folded. His colleague was professionally immaculate from her neatly cropped dark brown hair to her shining shoes.
Grace tensed, for in her opinion, the police rarely brought good news. “How may I help you?”
DCI Le Claire glanced at Sam, and his eyes held a decided question that Grace quickly answered. “This is Sam Avery.”
The policeman’s look of surprise was quickly concealed. “Were you also related to Kate Avery?”
Grace stilled. So, this was about Aunt Kate?
◆◆◆
Le Claire had come here looking for Kate Avery’s next-of-kin and found another potential relative which should make it easier to get information.
Sam Avery answered. “Yes, Kate was married to my Great-Uncle Samuel.”
“If you don’t mind, I have a few questions. I understand that Mrs Avery was a diabetic and her death was sudden?”
Grace Howard frowned. “Yes, is there a problem?”
“Not at the moment. I’m simply making sure we’ve covered all areas before we close the files.”
Sam Avery said, “We were told Kate accidentally overdosed on insulin and fell from the balcony. Are you saying something else may have happened?”
He shook his head. “I just need to clarify some points. Did Mrs Avery manage her insulin well? Have there ever been any other similar incidents.” The doctor had said she was well-controlled, but he wanted to know what those closest to her had to say.
Grace Howard spoke, “I don’t believe so. She never spoke of any issues.” She looked at Sam Avery, her head cocked to the side. “You saw more of Kate than I did. What do you think?”
“Overall, she managed her condition well.” He hesitated. “She was getting older. There were a few times when she couldn’t remember if she had already taken her insulin or not. She’d end up taking a double dose then get in a panic. Kate would have to quickly drink or eat sugary stuff to get her blood levels right. She always realised she had made a mistake, though.”
“Even when she’d been drinking?” Dewar asked the question before he could.
Grace Howard replied with a snap. “Kate never got drunk. She just took too much insulin and became disorientated. It was a terrible, tragic accident.”
He wasn’t so sure about that. “May I ask who is Mrs Avery’s executor? And how do I contact them?”
“It’s Paul Armstrong. I have his number.”
Dewar brought out her phone and entered the recited number.
“Thank you. Were you Mrs Avery’s heir?”
“Sam and I are the principal beneficiaries of Kate’s will.”
“Thank you. Sorry to bother you.”
As they reached the car, he said, “Get onto the lawyer first thing Monday morning. We need to know the finer details of the will.”
◆◆◆
CHAPTER SIX
The lone figure sat in a shadowed room. A shaft of fading light insinuated its way through the closed wooden shutters to fall across the paper-strewn desk. Tiny particles of dust danced in the beam, momentarily capturing his attention, a distraction from his calculations, the tallying of assets and a reckoning of how much they’d bring and how quickly.
The shrill tones of the ringing telephone made him jerk; the sound an unexpected intrusion in the heavy silence of the room. His hand reached out, hesitated as the caller ID was displayed, then, summoning courage, he answered the call. But he didn’t say a word, simply waited for the rasping voice to make its commands known.
“Good man. You just listen. We both know I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”
His intake of breath was the only response.
“You know the score. You’re late, and I want what you owe me. You don’t pay, and I go public, whisper a few words here and there, and that business of yours, shaky as it is, will collapse. All those creditors will be calling in their markers right, left and centre. You’ve got until the end of the month. I won’t wait any longer.”
He couldn’t help himself. “Please just give me a little bit longer. I’ve something planned—it’s a dead cert.”
The harsh tone coldly cut across him. “I’m not interested. Just get me my money by the end of the month. You know the consequences if you don’t come up to scratch. You know me—never an idle threat.”
There was a loud click as the call was disconnected. Beads of perspiration marked his brow as the man cradled his downcast head in his hands. What was he going to do?
He couldn’t find that amount of money in a few weeks. The mocking voice had been right—if all the creditors called in their accounts, it would be bankruptcy; if that happened, he’d never get his hands on the greater prize in time.
He really only had one option. Now, with the stakes even higher than before, he would do whatever it took. For hadn’t he already gone farther than he had ever thought possible?
◆◆◆
Grace sat on her hotel balcony, hugging a cup of coffee as she gazed at the bay in front of her. The sun was starting to sink lower in the sky, and she idly watched the waves brushing against the white sand.
She felt the need to talk to someone from home—just to feel grounded and remind her of the life she would return to in a few days. She reached for her cell phone to call Carter, her fiancé. Grace had been engaged to Carter Lawson III for six months and had known him since the cradle. He was handsome in that distinctive East Coast way, a walking advert for Ralph Lauren. His dark blond hair was always neatly trimmed, a perfect frame to set off his square-jawed good looks.
She recalled that Carter was going to some lodge upstate to meet a client who was interested in buying the property and developing it into an upmarket resort. The lodge was in the mountains, which meant Carter probably wouldn’t have a cell phone signal. He had told her as much and said there wouldn’t be much point in her calling.
Her mind made up, she called the operator for the number of the lodge. The name was Pine’s something—Pine’s Peak. After she pressed the last digit, there was a pause, then a tinny, muted ring tone, making her feel absurdly far away from her everyday life.
“Good afternoon
, Pine’s Peak Lodge. How can I help you?”
“I’d like to speak to one of your guests, please. Carter Lawson.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Mr Lawson has just left.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back? Did he say?”
“No. But they did say they were going to Antonio’s bar. It’s down the mountain a way, so maybe they’ll be a while.”
How typical of Carter, straight to work and looking at the competitors. “Thanks. He must be with his client already. I’m glad I didn’t disturb him.”
“Oh no, ma’am. It was just the two of them, Mr and Mrs Lawson.”
“Mrs Lawson?” Grace hadn’t known Carter was being joined by his mother, although they were close.
“Oh, of course, his mother,” Grace clarified.
“You must have the wrong lady, ma’am. Mrs Lawson is a young lady. She’s got long black hair, all curly like, and the cutest butterfly tattoo you ever saw.”
Gina!
Grace felt like she’d taken a direct hit to her stomach, her solar plexus contracting as she released a shaking breath. The moment was suspended. It couldn’t be true.
What was Carter doing with her assistant? She couldn’t take this in. Surely there had to be a reasonable explanation. “Of course, thank you for the information.”
As Grace went to hang up, the desk clerk shouted down the line. “Hold on! Don’t go. Mr Lawson just walked back in.”
Grace heard the clerk call out Carter’s name, followed by a muffled reply. As the handset was passed across, she listened to his aside to whoever was there. “Darling, it’ll be the office. Damn it, I told them not to disturb us. Why don’t you go fetch your wrap, and then we’ll have that cocktail.”
Grace heard the unmistakable throaty laugh of her PA.
“Hello. Who is this?” Carter spoke into the silence. “Come on. This had better be good. I’m on vacation,” he finished testily.
Grace couldn’t find her voice. Instead, she let out a long, shuddering sob.
Blood In The Sand: Betrayal, lies, romance and murder. (A Jack Le Claire Mystery) Page 3
