Rough Cut (20 page)

   “All the more reason to tell the police,” insisted Eloise and Carter raised his hand to try and calm her.

   “All in good time,” he said as Eloise looked at him disbelievingly. “We just need a little more time. Another day or so, maybe less, that’s all. By then we’ll have all the evidence we need. Then we can tell the police. I’m asking you not to do anything for twenty-four hours, that’s all. If the police get involved now, we’ll never catch them.”

   “I don’t know,” said Eloise, unconvinced, “As far as I’m concerned, Jacques comes first. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect him. Even if that means reporting my own grandfather to the police.”

   “Please! Just trust me a little longer,” pleaded Carter, “I do know what I’m doing and I will contact the police when the time is right.”

   “OK. But only for twenty-four hours, no more. Then you tell the police, or I will.”

   Eloise stared challengingly at Carter for a few moments before picking up the tray and carrying it through to the saloon. She put the tray on the table and then sat down beside Jacques. He was still staring blankly in front of him, largely unaware of anything going on around him. Eloise looked at him intently; he was going to need a lot of support and she wanted to be the one to give it to him. She began to rub his arm gently. Jacques turned his head slowly and looked at her for a moment, then he turned back and continued to stare ahead.

   From time to time Carter, who had followed Eloise into the saloon, asked Jacques a question, but the blank look did not change and Jacques didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

   When Carter had finished his coffee and had no more questions to ask, he put his cup down and signalled to Conrad that they should leave but before they did, he turned to Eloise.

   “Will you be all right?” he asked. Eloise nodded and Carter continued, “You’ve got my number. Call me if you need anything. I’ll come back tomorrow. OK?” Eloise nodded again.

   When they had left, Eloise put her arm round Jacques’ shoulders and pulled his head towards her. She felt a tear trickle onto her shoulder and she held him close, stroking his head gently.

   After about half an hour, during which Eloise did her best to comfort him, Jacques took a deep breath and sat up straight. Eloise looked at him, concerned.

   “How are you?” she asked quietly.

   “OK,” answered Jacques, forcing a feeble smile as if to reinforce what he had said.

   “You sure?”

   He nodded and looked deep into her eyes. “Thank you for being here for me today. I love you so much.”

   Eloise smiled. “I love you, too,” she said and gave him a peck on the cheek.

   A few more minutes passed with Jacques and Eloise holding each other close before Jacques spoke.

   “I need to go and tell my mother what has happened,” he said as he got to his feet. “Someone has to tell her that her daughter is dead. Will you come with me? It will make it easier for me and I want her to meet you anyway.”

   “Of course I’ll come with you,” responded Eloise.

   Jacques saw the pity in her eyes. “It will be all right,” he said. “She is a strong woman, she has had to be.”

   As they walked up the steps to his mother’s apartment Jacques was holding Eloise’s hand and he felt her squeeze his hand as he knocked on the door.

   “Maman, it’s me, Jacques,” he called, opening the door and going in.

   “Jacques! How nice to see you.” Claudine swept into the room. “You haven’t been home for days.” She threw her arms round Jacques, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back and they kissed each other on the cheek before separating.

   “Maman, I have some bad news to tell you.”

   “Bad news? What do you mean?” Claudine frowned and looked from Jacques to Eloise, a mystified expression crossing her face fleetingly. Then she looked back at Jacques. “What has happened?”

   Jacques noticed how the frown made her look so much older. He wanted to see the smile that had cheered him up so often in the past but he knew that the news he bore would not bring it to her face. He steeled himself.

   “It’s Yvonne, Maman… She is dead.”

   Claudine’s knees gave way and Jacques stepped forward quickly to catch her  as she fainted. “Help me to get her onto the settee,” he said to Eloise who was standing watching, not at all sure what she should do.

   “I’ll get a damp cloth,” said Eloise once they had laid Claudine on the settee.

   Jacques removed his mother’s shoes carefully and a few moments later Eloise returned with the cloth and placed it on Claudine’s brow. Jacques knelt down beside his mother and patted her hand gently.

   When Claudine came round after a couple of minutes, Jacques was still kneeling and Eloise was standing beside him, bent over her.

   “What happened?” she asked.

   “You fainted,” answered Jacques.

   Claudine sat up slowly. “I thought you said Yvonne was dead?”

   “Yes, it’s true; Yvonne is dead.”

   “But how? Why? Tell me, Jacques. What has happened to her? I don’t understand.”

   Jacques sighed. “It’s a long story,” he said before proceeding to tell Claudine about the shattering events of the last forty-eight hours. To spare his mother’s feelings, he left out the more gruesome details of what had been done to Yvonne but even so, when he had finished, his mother looked pale.

   Jacques and Eloise stayed with Claudine while she recovered from the devastating news they had given her and Jacques insisted that she drink all the glass of cognac he had poured for her.

   About an hour later, Claudine seemed to be getting her equilibrium back and Jacques asked Eloise to stay with her while he went to fetch her closest friend, Colette, who lived in the apartment next door.

   After Jacques had returned with Colette, he and Eloise stayed a little longer, long enough to be sure Claudine would be all right, before taking their leave and promising to return to see her very soon.

_________________________

   While Jacques was giving his mother the bad news about Yvonne, Carter and Conrad were sitting in the lounge of the Hotel Giraglia next to the Capitainerie. Conrad was looking intently at Carter, who was on the phone.

   “OK. Thanks. I’ll do that.” Carter switched off the phone and put it on the table in front of him as Conrad looked at him expectantly.

   “Nothing new,” said Carter, “Harris said he would forward the forensic analysis on the bullet that killed Spicer to the Sainte Maxime police so that they can compare it with the one we got from the farmhouse.” Carter looked at Conrad, trying to gauge his reaction to the news before continuing. “I’d prefer not to, but I think we’d better go and see the French police and bring them up to speed. Before they receive the analysis from Harris and get the idea we’re trying to keep something from them.”

   “Do you think that’s a good idea?” asked Conrad, challenging Carter’s questioning look as he continued. “Lacoste is a prominent citizen in these parts. He may have, in fact I’m guessing he almost certainly does have, connections within the local police force.”

   Carter considered what Conrad had said for a few moments before responding. “Good point. What if we tell them about the farmhouse and what we are investigating but leave Philippe out of it for now?” Conrad nodded his approval of this compromise as Carter continued, “That way, if he does have a source within the local police, he won’t know we’re onto him and start covering his tracks. But we still get the police on our side.”

   Carter and Conrad looked at each other for a few moments before Carter looked away and stared through the window, mentally going over their plan and checking his thinking. He knew that he had no choice but to tell the police what had happened at the farmhouse. His promise to Nicole meant that he couldn’t take any risks with Eloise’s safety; he had to play it safe. Telling the Sainte Maxime police would mean getting round the clock protection for Eloise and Jacques and that would put his mind at rest about her safety even if it did prejudice his investigation a little. But not telling them about Philippe’s possible involvement would enable him to pursue that line of enquiry without hindrance, for a little while at least.

CHAPTER 14

Gilles was standing with his back to the French window in Philippe’s living room as Philippe paced up and down, clearly very angry with Gilles about what had happened at the farmhouse.

   Although Gilles was his most trusted ally, things had got out of hand and now they had gone horribly wrong. He had always known that Gilles mixed with some very violent people, he had grown up with them after all, but he had not been aware that Gilles was involving them in
his
business.

   “The one who killed Rob,“ he began as Gilles looked at him, “Was his death arranged by you?”

   Gilles turned away before answering. “You know it was. You said you wanted him to pay for what he had done.”

   “I meant I wanted him to be convicted of the murder and sent to jail for the rest of his life. Legally!”

   “That would have resulted in him telling the police everything.” Gilles fixed Philippe with a stare as he continued, “Including who he was with at the time. I could not permit that.”

   “So you had him killed?” challenged Philippe, “And now the same people have killed again. Only this time that was not the plan, was it?”

   Gilles shook his head. “No. It went wrong.”

   “It went wrong!” shouted Philippe, “Two people ended up dead!” He looked at Gilles in disgust. “Where do you find these idiots?”

   “Philippe, it went wrong, that’s all,” Gilles responded, “It happens. Sometimes things go wrong. But Henri says neither of them got a good look at him.”

   Philippe turned away from Gilles, his disgust clearly apparent.

   “Which just leaves Jacques,” continued Gilles, quietly, “Jacques could identify Henri. And that could lead back to me. And to you.”

   Philippe’s head whipped round at this and he looked at Gilles fiercely, staring him in the eyes and pointing at him with his forefinger to emphasise his words.

   “You don’t touch Jacques! Do you understand? You leave him alone. He is not to be harmed. No more killing!” Gilles looked at Philippe as he continued. “This business has already cost too many lives. Including that of my grandson.”

   The two men stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments before Gilles looked away. “As you wish. I will take care of it,” he said and headed for the door as Philippe watched him, shaking his head.

   Gilles closed the door behind him as he left Philippe’s house. He paused for a moment and looked back at the door before shaking his head and walking off. As he made his way towards the Place du Marché, Gilles took his phone out of his pocket and made a call.

   When he reached the Place du Marché, Gilles went into the café which overlooks the boules court and ordered a coffee. As he sat watching the boules players toss the heavy boules in the air in the hope that they would land somewhere near the little target ball, Henri approached the café from the direction of the Place des Artisans. When he reached Gilles, he flopped into the chair next to him. He looked at Gilles for a few moments before speaking.

   “Problem?” he asked.

   “Philippe says not to touch Jacques,” said Gilles.

   Henri threw his hands in the air. “So how are we supposed to deal with this then?”

   “I need to think about it. I think I am missing something here.”

   “Well don’t take too long. I am happy to help you make your problems go away but I am not so happy about being exposed like this. We need to do something and we need to do it now.”

   Gilles stared at Henri, his look telling him to hold off and not to question his decision. Henri stared back for a few moments and then stood up.

   “Enjoy your coffee,” he said dismissively, “I will wait to hear from you.”

   Henri walked off, leaving Gilles staring contemplatively at the boules players.

_________________________

   An hour after Gilles had left him, Philippe, wearing a lightweight grey suit and an open necked white shirt with the collar outside the jacket, was sitting on a bench at the Capitainerie, near the Esprit.

   As Jacques approached from the direction of the Rue Grande, Philippe got to his feet.

   “Bonjour Jacques,” he said, holding out his hand. “I am Philippe Lacoste.”

   Jacques shook the hand cautiously. If Carter were to be believed, this man was in some way implicated in the death of Eloise’s brother, and for all Jacques knew, also in Yvonne’s death. But, if that were so, it made no sense that he would be there. Jacques was puzzled as to why Philippe had been waiting for him.

   “Bonjour,” he answered, “I know who you are, of course, but how do you know my name?”

   “I know more about you than you might think,” replied Philippe. “I would like to talk to you. Can we go on board your boat?”

   Jacques was far from certain that it was a good idea for him to be alone on the Esprit with Philippe but if Philippe was prepared to approach him openly and in broad daylight, then it was unlikely that he had anything sinister in mind. It would probably be safe for them to go on board.

   “Follow me,” said Jacques, leading the way onto the Esprit. He unlocked the glass door to the saloon, slid it open and ushered Philippe in.

   When they had settled themselves at the table in the saloon, Jacques looked intently at Philippe. “Well, Monsieur Lacoste, what do you want to talk to me about?”

   “This is a fine boat, Jacques,” said Philippe, “It was my favourite. Where did you get the money to buy it?”

   “What business is that of yours?” Jacques shot back, wondering why he had been asked the question.

   “Oh, none. I was just curious, that’s all,” replied Philippe nonchalantly.