James stood, as did Grace. But she stumbled, and as she tried to regain her balance, James put out steadying hands. His touch wasn’t unpleasant, and Grace didn’t push him away. Nor did he remove his hands, which rested gently but firmly on her shoulders. The heat of his palms seared through her top, and she gently swayed towards him.
James steadied her, removed his hands and took a step back. “Sorry, Grace, I think I plied you with too much wine. At least you’ll sleep well tonight.”
Grace walked slowly down the stairs, holding tightly to the bannister, wishing everything would stop swaying. Or was that her? Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she steadied herself and opened the front door. Unfortunately, she did so a little too enthusiastically, and the door landed hard, and loud, against the wall. “Sorry, that was clumsy of me.”
Suddenly, the air was filled with a scrabbling of claws and canine howling. The dogs, who’d been in an exhausted sleep for hours, came bounding out of the downstairs garden room, grinding to a halt as they saw Grace and James.
Both dogs immediately moved to Grace’s side, eyes never leaving James, Daisy leaning heavily against Grace’s thigh and Barney sitting almost on top of her feet.
“James, meet Barney and Daisy, my houseguests for the night.”
James moved forward as if to kiss Grace good-bye, but as he reached out, both dogs growled, low and menacing. He took a quick step back and held up both hands, palms out in surrender. “Hey, guys, I’m not going to hurt your girl. Guess that’s my cue to leave.” He gestured towards the dogs sitting like sentinels by Grace’s side. “Maybe you should keep that posse close by you. They are definitely great guard dogs.” And with that, he walked down the steps and disappeared into the darkness.
Grace stood holding the open door for a moment. She’d had a lovely evening and hadn’t really expected to feel that way. With a sigh, she closed the door and turned to make her way upstairs. However, she stopped short when she saw two doleful pairs of brown eyes staring at her. Grace gave in. “Come on, you two, let’s go to bed.”
Ears pricking, Daisy and Barney raced up the stairs, Barney’s short legs working furiously to keep up with Daisy’s long, elegant gait.
◆◆◆
Grace awoke with a violent start. Her eyes shot wide open, and then she winced and shut them tight against the glare of the brightness streaming through the windows. She must’ve slept in, as the sun was pretty high. The next thing she noticed was the pounding in her head and the dryness in her throat. Damn. This was why she usually stopped after having a single glass of wine. She had a raging hangover, and she hadn’t even stood up yet.
Squinting against the brightness, she saw two shapes silhouetted against the uncovered windows. The dogs sat side by side, staring out into the gardens as if mesmerised. Sharp barks vibrated across the room. It was this noise that had woken Grace up. Thank heavens something had. “Come on, you two, keep the noise down. Come back to bed.” Neither dog moved or even acknowledged her presence.
Grace sighed and, throwing the duvet back, got out of bed and crossed to the windows. The dogs weren’t moving, just staring straight ahead, their growls now low and menacing. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, guys. What’s up?”
Daisy’s soft brown gaze focused on Grace as she shuffled backwards and pressed herself heavily against Grace’s legs in a protective stance.
“What’s wrong? You okay?”
Grace felt a shiver as her senses heightened, and her heartbeat raced. She looked outside, but all she could see was the garden—nothing unusual. But weren’t dogs known for having some form of additional awareness? She shook her head to rid herself of fanciful notions. She was a lawyer, for Christ’s sakes.
Bending down, she stroked the Doberman’s head as the dog snuggled closer. Who was protecting whom? Barney had lost interest in whatever was outside and started bouncing up and down, trying to catch Grace’s attention. Soon, the two dogs were happily vying for who could get the most cuddles from Grace and, in return, give the wettest kisses and licks. Standing up, Grace pulled herself away from the dogs, who immediately followed her. She mentally numerated her tasks. Throw on some clothes and walk and then feed the dogs. Have a shower. Eat breakfast. Get rid of her hangover before Sam came back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Le Claire sat alone in the thankfully empty police cafeteria, nursing a mug of coffee, wincing as he took another tentative sip of the bitter, murky brew. He wished he’d taken the time to get someone to run out to the nearby coffee bar, but he hadn’t thought of it. And that was no wonder because the recent murders were occupying his every waking thought. All he had was three dead bodies, a group of loosely connected people and barely a motive in sight.
He looked forlornly at his coffee cup, debated having another sip and was just about to give in when a steaming takeaway cup was placed in front of him. Looking up, he quirked a brow as Dewar sat down opposite him, sipping at her own drink. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I saw you walk in here, sir. I was on my way to speak to you, so I thought I’d do you a favour and get you a decent cup of java.”
“So the favour to me is having a great cup of coffee, and the favour to yourself is that it might—just might—lighten my mood?”
A dark flush spread over Dewar’s cheeks. “And has it?”
“Out with it. What’s the issue?”
She took a breath and plunged straight in. “It’s the warrant, sir, for Emma Layzell’s phone records.”
Le Claire didn’t say anything. He just stared and waited, although he figured his eyes betrayed the impatience he felt. Dewar took another breath and continued. “It’s just proving a bit difficult to get in touch with the duty jurat, sir. So I haven’t actually got the warrant yet, but I will. Soon.”
“See that you do. We have little enough to go on, so it would at least be a start to know who the victim was talking to during her last hours on earth.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll try harder.” She briskly rose as she spoke and made to leave.
Le Claire’s impatient words made her halt. “Oh, for God’s sake, don’t be so bloody sensitive. I know you’re doing your best. I just need it to be better.”
“Thanks, sir. I’ll go and get onto it again.”
Le Claire stood and shrugged on his jacket. “Come with me first. We’ve got a visit to make.”
◆◆◆
Grace heard a taxi come up the drive and opened the door just as Sam was juggling bags and searching his pockets for his keys.
He looked up and grinned. “Now that’s what I call a welcome home. A gorgeous girl waiting at the door. Miss me?”
Grace wasn’t in the mood for Sam’s flirting right now. She didn’t comment. Sam dumped his bags in the hall and followed her upstairs. “So how were the dogs?”
“Fine. I tired them out so much on the beach that they slept all through the evening and didn’t even realise James was here until he was leaving.”
Sam stilled. “James was here?”
“Yes, he popped over with takeout to try and cheer me up.”
“Cheer you up? What was getting you down?”
“Oh, Sam, it’s awful. Emma Layzell has been killed. It’s another murder.”
“I can’t believe this. What happened?”
“I don’t know, just that she was found by one of her employees at her home. The alarm was raised when Emma didn’t turn up to the office and missed a couple of appointments.”
“I can’t get my head around this. Poor girl. Do the police think the murders are connected?”
“I don’t know, but it all seems very odd. When your dad came to pick the dogs up earlier, he said you’d be shocked, but I didn’t think you knew Emma that well.”
Before Sam could answer her, the doorbell rang, loud and shrill.
Sam said, “I better get that. Won’t be a moment.”
He made his way downstairs, leaving Grace awaiting his return. Had Sam known Emma a lot better
than he had let on? It hadn’t seemed that way when Grace had first mentioned Emma. In fact, he’d been pretty dismissive about her the first day she had turned up at the house. Why would his dad have thought Sam would be upset? Grace pushed the thought aside—there was enough to think about without conjuring up any more issues.
As Grace walked down the stairs, she heard voices in the hallway. One voice made her stop and stand still and silent. Le Claire.
“Mr Avery, sorry to interrupt you just as soon as you’ve got off the boat from France, but I need to speak to you about another recent death.”
Sam’s voice was noncommittal. “Yes?”
Grace was straining to hear. She slowly made her way past the landing and, crouching, perched on the top stair, leaning forward to try and capture every word.
“We are investigating the death of a young woman whom we believe you know, Emma Layzell.”
“I hardly knew Emma, so I’m afraid there’s nothing I can say to help.”
Le Claire queried, “You don’t seem surprised at the news. And I understand that at one time you knew Miss Layzell rather well. You dated for a while.”
Sam spoke, and there was a combative edge to his voice, “Look, I went out with Emma Layzell years ago. She was a complete nightmare, calling me nonstop, often in the middle of the night, hanging about and waiting for me outside the office when she knew we didn’t have a date that night. She even turned up one afternoon when she knew I was going to a small family barbecue. She bordered on being a complete stalker. I dumped her as soon as I could. I’ve barely spoken a word to her in years. I’m sorry she’s dead, but I just didn’t know her anymore. I really can’t help you.”
Grace rammed a fist against her mouth to prevent any sound escaping. Sam had never indicated that he knew Emma as anything other than a passing acquaintance. Why would he not say anything?
Le Claire’s voice rose up the stairs loud and clear. “When was the last time you saw Miss Layzell?”
“Maybe a week or so ago, but I didn’t speak to her. She was leaving here. She came to ask Grace about putting this place on the market.”
Dewar asked, “So you can’t think of anyone who would want to harm her?”
Grace grimaced at Sam’s harsh laugh. “Emma was driven, with an obsessive personality. I’m sure she aggrieved any number of people regularly. But enough for anyone to kill her? That’s extreme.”
There was a pause. Sam continued in a gentler tone, “Emma and I had a bad breakup. We had only been casually dating, but she put me through the wringer. She is—was—a bad memory. But I’d never have wished this on her, never.”
Le Claire asked, “When did you leave for France?”
“Yesterday’s early boat.”
“Where were you from 1:00 a.m. on Friday morning until the boat left?”
“I suppose I asked for that. I was here, in bed. And no, I don’t have anyone to alibi me.”
“Very well. We’ll be in touch if we need to know anything else.”
Grace heard leather soles on the ceramic tiles; they were leaving. She carefully stood and went to the top of the stairs. Le Claire and Dewar came into view, but they couldn’t yet see past the corner to where she was.
“Wait.” Sam came up behind them. “What about Kate? Have you found out who killed her yet? Or Harriet?”
Le Claire turned. “No, those investigations are ongoing.”
“That all you have to say? You’re no closer to solving the case? What about Emma? Are they all connected?”
“I really couldn’t say at the moment, Mr Avery. As I said, we’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”
And with that, they left. And Grace silently made her way to her bedroom.
◆◆◆
She didn’t know what to think. Sam had seemed so aggressive when he’d spoken about Emma, completely unlike his usual self. Then again, did she really know him? Grace had always thought she was a good judge of character but wasn’t she the one who had thought Carter was a loving fiancé? And he’d turned out to be a faithless toad.
The harsh sound of the house telephone ringing dragged her from her thoughts. The sound quickly stopped.
Just as Grace was wondering who had been on the phone, she heard a knock on her bedroom door. What did Sam want now? “Come in.”
“You never came down after the police arrived. That’s who was at the door, by the way.”
Grace decided to play dumb. “What did they want?”
“Oh, just a few questions about my whereabouts in case they could put me in the frame for Emma Layzell’s murder.”
Grace waited, but Sam didn’t elaborate further, so she prodded. “How strange. I mean, it’s not as if you knew her that well. Why would they think to question you?”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess they maybe think it’s connected to the deaths of Harriet and Kate, which, by the way, they don’t seem to have a clue about.”
Grace didn’t know how to process his words. He was still going to make out that he hadn’t known Emma. Just as she was trying to decide what to say next, Sam spoke.
“That was Luca on the phone. He’s worried about someone being in the garden. Kids sometimes hung out beneath the trees deep in the borders. Now he’s noticed disturbed ground in the open.”
“Should we be concerned?”
“Normally, I’d say no, but these aren’t usual circumstances. I’ll double-check all the locks tonight, and I’ll check the garden myself in the morning.”
“Okay, thanks. I’m going to have a chill in my room, maybe read for a bit. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When the door closed behind him, the smile fell from her face. Sam was lying to her. But was he only lying about knowing Emma? Or was he hiding something else?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Le Claire was at his desk in the incident room, his entire focus yet again on the large whiteboard that dominated one wall. It was covered in scribblings of timelines, opportunities and alibis. No crime was perfect. There had to be something they had missed. His desk phone rang, and he considered ignoring it, especially when he recognised the caller ID. But he couldn’t. What the hell did he want?
“Chief, what can I do for you?”
“My office, now. We have a visitor.” As the call disconnected, Le Claire sighed and headed to see the top boss. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to be pleasant.
“Come on in, Le Claire. I’m sure you know Senator Groves. Senator, this is DCI Jack Le Claire, who is in charge of the murder investigations.”
The man sitting in front of the chief’s desk turned. “You’ll be Philip’s son. How are the folks?”
“Fine, thank you, sir.”
Senator Bill Groves was a thin, spare man with a politician’s smile and an accountant’s heart. Le Claire didn’t like being ambushed, yet that’s what it felt like when presented to a member of the island’s parliamentary body like a sacrificial lamb. He liked it even less when they referenced his father.
“Chief Wilson tells me that you are no nearer solving these terrible murders.”
“Come on, Bill, that is not what I said. DCI Le Claire is following several leads and investigating all avenues.”
“Bullshit. We’ve just had a third murder. That is two elderly sisters, and a young woman who I understand knew one of them—the estate agent girl. They have to be connected. Find what ties them together and close the cases—quickly.”
Le Claire couldn’t help but think how easy that made it all sound. If only. “I can assure you, sir, that we will close these cases once we have finalised our investigations.”
“You better, son. This is a holiday island, and we don’t want the tourists frightened away because you can’t do your job properly. People come here for a good time and to relax. We can’t have any more blood in the sand. Find these killers—and soon.”
With that, the senator left.
Chief Wilson sighed. “I’m sorry. He is a total idiot, but he turne
d up here out of the blue, and I didn’t want to give him anything else to complain about. Hopefully, it made him feel good to shout at a policeman and Philip Le Claire’s son at that. Maybe he’ll leave us alone for a bit. A lot is riding on this case, son—for you as well.”
Le Claire understood that to mean that London was still hanging over him, and so it should. Didn’t they know that he was his own worst critic? Couldn’t they see that the guilt shimmered and slithered beneath the surface, ready to consume him if he let down his guard, even for a moment?
◆◆◆
Grace had now read the same page several times. She couldn’t concentrate, and her ringing mobile was a welcome escape, even when she realised who the caller was. “Hello, Mother. This is a surprise.”
“Grace, dear, how are you?” Saccharin sweetness dripped through the phone. That made Grace wary.
“I’m fine. How are you and Dad?”
“Good. Your father’s case is almost at its conclusion. But I’ve called to talk to you about something specific.”
Grace tried to be charitable, attempted to dampen the thought that her mother only ever followed her own agenda. “And what would that be, then?”
“Don’t be snippy. Anyway, I have marvellous news. About Carter.”
Grace felt her stomach flip. “Mother, I don’t believe there is anything you can say about Carter that I would want to hear. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t expect you to talk, just listen. I saw Carter at the tennis club this morning. He was having brunch with his parents. We joined them.”
“The guy has an affair behind my back, doesn’t even have the guts to tell me, and then, when he’s caught red-handed, gushes about how he is in love with my assistant and you join him for a Sunday morning cappuccino? It’s beyond belief.”
“Grace Howard! I do not know what has gotten into you, talking to me that way. I cannot imagine what kind of people you must be mixing with for this behaviour to rub off onto you. Your father and I have known the Lawsons all our married life. I am not going to stop speaking to them just because you couldn’t keep their son’s interest.”
Blood In The Sand: Betrayal, lies, romance and murder. (A Jack Le Claire Mystery) Page 16
