Daughter of Riches (55 page)

The word processor clattered to a stop. Dan ripped out the finished sheet, heaved himself out of his swivel chair and went in search of a beer. Apart from the array of cans the fridge looked depressingly empty; he'd have to go out later on for a pizza or a Chinese if he wanted to eat, but for now the beer would satisfy him nicely. He yanked at the ringpull and threw himself down on the sofa, propping his feet up on the low table. Then he drank direct from the can, at the same time studying the print out.

LOUIS LANGLOIS KILLING
Possible suspects
Family:
Brothers Robin and David Langlois
Sister-in-law Molly Langlois
Uncle Paul Carteret
Aunt Catherine Carteret (supposedly out of Jersey at the

time) Mother Sophia Langlois (always possible she was telling

the truth!)
Others:
Raife Pearson (alibi but had v. seedy contacts)
Frank de Val (reputation on the line – powerful motive)
Louis's lady loves (more investigation needed. Louis was a

known womaniser)

Dan raised the can again, swigging thoughtfully. The women in Louis's life had been one area on which the Jersey Post had thrown nothing up. It was, after all, a local newspaper, not a scandal sheet. But there had been a photograph, a group at some gala or other, which had showed Louis, handsome and well-groomed, in evening dress, with a young lady on his arm. In newsprint the photograph had not been sufficiently good for Dan to identify her though he felt there was something vaguely familiar about the pretty face beneath the tumbling hair, but he was working on it. A photographer friend – also ex-police – had promised to work on an enlargement though whether it would be any clearer was doubtful and Dan had also persuaded the girl at the Jersey Post to plumb the archives in the hope of discovering a copy of the original. Meantime he could exercise his imagination – what might that young lady look like twenty years on – always supposing she was still in Jersey, of course. By now she could be anywhere in the world.

The telephone shrilled suddenly almost startling Dan and he dumped the print out on the low table and went to answer it.

‘Dan Deffains.'

‘Mr Deffains. My name is Catherine Carteret. You won't know me but I used to be a friend of your father's. And I believe you know my niece, Juliet Langlois.'

‘Yes.'

‘You've been seeing her in fact.'

‘I have, yes, but …'

‘This may sound like the most dreadful cheek but are you … fond of her?'

Dan shook his head in disbelief. ‘Miss Carteret, I can't see what business that is of yours.'

‘No, I know. I knew it would come out all wrong, but I can see she is very taken with you and I was hoping … What I am trying to say, very badly, is that I am concerned about her and I was very much hoping you might help me.'

‘Help you? In what way?'

‘Oh dear, this is so dreadfully difficult. I'm quite sure at this moment in time you think I am just an interfering old woman. But it's not that, I promise you – at least, not in the way you think. Mr Deffains – Dan – it really is very important. I must talk to you.'

Those warning prickles were rising once more on the back of Dan's neck. He hooked out a chair with his foot and sat down.

‘Very well, Miss Carteret, fire away. I'm all ears.'

By the time she had finished Dan had almost unconsciously crushed the empty beer can in his hand. He replaced the receiver, returned to the computer print out and wrote on it in biro, a mass of almost illegible scribble and some bold underlining of the printed script. Then he went over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a whisky. Beer was all very well – at this moment he felt he needed something a good deal stronger!

Juliet looked at Dan across the table in the candlelit bistro, puzzled and slightly hurt. Yesterday she had been so sure he had felt as she did, so excited by the attraction that had flared between them; today there was something different about him and she did not know what it was.

‘What's wrong?' she asked eventually. ‘ You seem very far away.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You're … preoccupied. It's not very flattering.'

‘I'm sorry. I've had a heavy day.'

‘Heavy how? You were going to see the centenier, weren't you? Did you find out anything interesting?'

‘No.'

His abruptness shocked her. ‘Sorry for asking!' she said shortly. ‘If you're so tired out perhaps you'd like to go home.'

‘Oh hell, Juliet …' He reached across the table, covering her hand with his. ‘ I didn't mean to upset you. But I thought you wanted to drop this post mortem examination of the past.'

‘That was before I found out this senator man was involved. It throws a whole new light on everything.'

‘I'm not sure that it does. I'm not sure he was involved. I asked John Germaine, the centenier, point blank whether any pressure was exerted on him to leave well alone where de Val was concerned. He denied it and I believe him.'

‘But …'

‘De Val had something to hide, that's true, and it could make an interesting story. But I doubt very much if he had anything to do with Louis's death.'

A tiny frown creased her forehead. ‘What do you mean, an interesting story?'

‘I think he was involved in some very un-Senator-like junketings. But that doesn't make him a murderer,' Dan said, cursing himself for his carelessness. Though he knew the time was coming when he would have to tell her what he did for a living, a public bistro was not the place for it.

‘But it's a really good motive,' she protested.

‘I think half Jersey probably had a really good motive. It doesn't mean they killed him. And even if they did, how likely is it we'd be able to prove anything after all this time?'

She stared at him, bemused. ‘That's not what you said before. You were really keen to get to the bottom of it. What's changed?'

‘Oh …' He toyed with a bread stick. ‘I've been thinking, looking at it rationally. If an outsider killed Louis they must have followed him home. He'd been out that evening, remember – he was often out – and Sophia was often in. No one in their right mind would have gone to La Grange with the intention of murdering Louis. They simply wouldn't have known when to find him there.'

‘But if it was done in the heat of the moment … Suppose Louis was blackmailing this Frank de Val and de Val went to see him to try and get him to lay off. They could have quarrelled and he could have shot him.'

‘With Louis's gun? The one that nobody but his close family knew he had? And no witnesses ever came forward, remember. The housekeeper was asleep in bed and heard nothing. Neither did David, who was suffering from influenza and had gone to bed early with a hot toddy and a bottle of aspirin. Nobody came forward to say they'd seen a strange car on the road or someone in the area who shouldn't have been there. It was November, remember, the island wouldn't have been full of tourists, it would have gone back to being parochial Jersey where practically everyone knows everyone else. That would have been even more true twenty years ago than it is today.'

Juliet was trembling. She pressed her hands down hard on the chequered table cloth.

‘Are you saying what I think you are saying – that my grandmother was guilty after all?'

‘No, I'm not saying that. I'm saying I don't know. But I think maybe that after so long it would be best to forget the whole thing – leave it alone. Ah!' he looked up as the waiter approached with the desserts they had ordered, ‘at last! Service is very slow here tonight. Do you want coffee, or shall we go home and have it there?'

‘Let's go home.' There was something claustrophobic about the bistro suddenly and Juliet had no appetite whatsoever for her zabaglione. She did not understand the change in Dan's attitude, nor why when he was puzzling and annoying her she should still find him so devastatingly attractive. When she fell out with Sean she didn't want him near her, couldn't bear the thought of him touching her. Yet even now a glance at Dan's face, shadowed because it was just out of the circle of light cast by the candle, was making her weak at the knees.

‘What's up?' he asked. ‘Is there something wrong with your sweet?'

‘No, it's fine. A bit rich that's all …' She put her spoon down. ‘I'm sorry, I don't really think I want it after all.'

‘Don't look so worried! Leave it!' He finished his cassata very quickly and put down his spoon. ‘ Let's go then, shall we?'

He paid the bill and they climbed the winding staircase to street level. It had been a pleasantly warm day and Juliet had decided not to wear a coat over her soft cotton jersey trousers-and-tunic. Now the evening air struck cool after the mugginess of the cellar histro and she shivered.

‘Cold?' he asked.

‘No. I'm fine.' She said it impatiently to cover her confused emotions.

‘Would you like my jacket?'

‘No, really. Honestly I'm all right.'

He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Come here.'

She wanted to protest, wanted to pull away and make her annoyance doubly plain but somehow she could not. His arm felt good around her and suddenly all the awareness was sparking again, powerful as an unexpected electric storm. She turned her head slightly towards him and as she did so he pulled her close, kissing her. As their lips touched she felt her knees go weak so that she stopped walking for a moment, the whole of her body sensitised, wanting nothing but to cling to him.

Crazy! How could it happen so instantly? With Sean she had to work at it, but with Dan one kiss, one touch, could affect her so rapidly it was like bare wires crossing. His mouth was hard yet at the same time deliciously malleable. When he lifted it from hers she felt bereft.

‘You are cold.' He slipped out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She snuggled her face into it as if it were him. A minute or two ago she had wanted to punish him for suggesting her grandmother might after all have been guilty, now, quite suddenly and almost against her will, she wanted nothing but to be close to him.

He had his arm around her again, holding his jacket in place. She leaned against him lightly as they walked a little haltingly up the hill towards the Fort Regent car park, but he did not kiss her again until they were inside the echoing concrete framework and there was no one else to see.

His car was parked on one of the upper storeys; it took them some time to reach it and by the time they did Juliet was not thinking about Sophia or Louis any more.

His car was an old but beautifully restored soft-topped TR6. The low slung bucket seats made it impossible for him to do anything but concentrate on driving, but the electricity was still there sparking between them so violently that she could almost feel his touch on her skin and she held his jacket around her, enjoying the faint male smell of it. The journey was accomplished in minutes but time had lost all meaning for Juliet. She felt deliciously unreal and it was almost a shock to see her car parked outside Dan's house where she had left it. But the shock was not enough to return her to reality.

Dan parked and she stood beside him waiting while he unlocked the door. The spell almost broke as she followed him into the house, then, as he kicked the door shut and pulled her into his arms again it surrounded her once more, powerful as ever.

‘You want that coffee?' he whispered against her ear.

She shook her head. There was nothing she wanted but him.

I've taken leave of my senses, she thought. And I don't care. It's wonderful!

He was kissing her there in the hallway over and over again, and his jacket slid off her shoulders and fell to the floor. Freed, she wriggled closer, her own hands exploring the hard lines of his shoulder blades, the muscular ridges and lean hollows beneath the crisp cool cotton of his shirt. His nearness was intoxicating – she had drunk very little this evening yet she felt as if she had indulged in a whole bottle of champagne which was now bubbling on her tongue and effervescing in her veins.

He ran a line of kisses from her mouth down her throat and her inner thighs tingled, spreading a weakness through her legs. Then just as she thought she was going to collapse on to the floor she felt his arm go behind her knees and he swept her up into his arms as easily as if she were a child, carrying her into the living-room.

The curtains had not been drawn as it had still been daylight when he had gone out. Now the glow of the streetlamps bathed the room in soft illumination lending a muzzy romance to the worn leather suite and the plain functional furnishings. He left the curtains open, setting her down on the sofa and leaning over to kiss her again. She wound her arms round his neck, pulling him down, and a moment later they were undressing one another with urgency and tenderness. She shuddered at the touch of his body on hers, arching towards him. This was the moment when everything began to fall apart when making love with Sean, the moment when what desire she had seemed to drain away leaving her cold and disinterested yet vaguely yearning for what she had lost. For a brief moment she was afraid it would be the same – if it were she would die of disappointment and despair, she thought. But she need not have worried; with Dan it was quite different. The ebbs and flows were exhilarating, each one lifting her to a higher plane, and when at last it was over there was no feeling of terrible let down or frustration. Instead she felt totally relaxed, confident and happier than she could ever remember.

The irritation she had felt for him earlier had all gone now and for practically the first time since she had come to Jersey she was not sparing a single thought for the long shadow of the past.

‘How about that coffee?' Dan said, untangling himself and getting up.

She nodded. ‘ Sounds lovely.'