Daughter of Riches (37 page)

‘So you think she was protecting someone,' Dan said, drawing the inspector back to the point. ‘Who?'

Phil Gould laughed, a hearty guffaw that caused people sitting at the nearby tables to turn and look at him.

‘Oh come on, Dan, now you're asking! If I didn't know that twenty years ago how the hell do you expect me to know now?'

‘Didn't you ever have the slightest suspicion?'

‘There were enough fireworks going off in that family to make Mount Etna look like a Palmatine Star nightlight,' Phil Gould said graphically. ‘As far as motives go I reckon any one of them could have done it. Louis had a knack of making enemies.'

‘So someone outside the family could have had a motive too?'

‘True, but you know as well as I do the closest connections are always going to be the most likely, especially where a victim is killed in his own home. And besides, why should Sophie lie for an outsider?'

‘Perhaps like you she thought one of the family was responsible – but perhaps she was wrong.'

‘Perhaps.'

‘But you don't think so.'

‘No. Oh, shit, Dan, I don't know. It was a bloody long time ago. And this is now – and my glass is empty.'

Dan went to rise. ‘Let me …'

‘No, it's my turn. You might have asked to meet me but I still buy my round. Same again?'

‘Better make mine a half of something long and not too alcoholic. I'm driving.'

‘Shame!' But Phil Gould looked amused – until he remembered what had happened to Marianne.

Whilst he was at the bar Dan thought back over what had been said. So far everything tied in with what he had already thought but he hadn't learned a great deal that was new. Except about David trying to sell the police the burglar theory. Interesting. Had he also tried to sell it to Dan Deffains senior, his mother's advocate, and had Dan rejected it out of hand so that it did not even warrant a mention in the file? And what about the possibility that Louis had had other enemies outside the family who might have wanted him dead? Perhaps it was something he should follow up, but it wouldn't be easy after all this time and as Phil had pointed out Sophia would never have taken the blame unless she had believed someone she cared about was responsible. That meant very strong motives within the family – something Juliet could unearth if she tried.

Phil returned with the fresh round of drinks.

‘So,' Dan said as Phil took the head off his own pint, ‘forget motive for the moment. What about opportunity? Which of them could have done it?'

‘Christ, what is this – the third degree?' Phil exploded. Beer foam had caught in his moustache and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

‘I'm just interested …'

‘Hmm. All I can say is she must be a very attractive girl.'

‘She is.'

‘And you want to impress her.'

‘Something like that.'

‘Well it's about time you sorted yourself out a nice girlfriend. Though unless you've changed a good deal you don't need all this crap to do that. I seem to remember young ladies going weak at the knees when you were around.'

‘You're exaggerating.'

‘I'm bloody well not. And though I expect you'll tell me to mind my own business I'm not joking when I say it's time you sorted out your private life. It was rough on you, I know, but you can't go on grieving for ever. Marianne wouldn't expect that.'

‘Perhaps not. But it's the way I want it. And we were talking about the Langlois family, not me. Which of them could have done it?'

‘Dan, my brain is aching.'

‘Mr Gould …'

‘
Phil
, remember? Oh, all right, let me think. There were the two other sons, weren't there, Robin and David. There was Sophia's brother, Paul. There was his wife, Vivienne. And there was Robin's wife, Molly. She was having an affair with Louis – you'd better not tell your little girlfriend that. It might not go down too well and I doubt she knows anything about it. She might not even believe you, of course. It's not the easiest thing in the world to imagine your parents in flagrante delicto. As far as I can recall they were all in Jersey on the night in question and none of them had any alibi, except for the ones they gave one another.'

‘There was an investigation then?'

‘Not as such, though they all made statements. It's just that I looked at those statements with all the interest of a keen young copper who sees his first murder case turning out to be a damp squib.'

‘So any one of them could have done it.'

‘You could say that. The only close member of the family who was not in Jersey at the time was Catherine Carteret, Sophia's sister. She was teaching, in London, I believe, though she came dashing home as soon as the news broke. Yes, any one of them had the opportunity. And I reckon Sophia was enough of a family matriarch to lie for any one of them with the possible exception of Vivienne. If she
was
lying.'

‘But I thought you said …'

‘I know. That it was too neat. But there are still facts that can't be ignored.'

‘Such as?'

‘Number one – it was Sophia who reported Louis dead. The person discovering the body has to be a prime suspect. Number two, of all the motives hers was as strong as any and when she began talking she plugged it for all she was worth. Louis was breaking up the family by having a very indiscreet affair with his sister-in-law. Worse, he was breaking up the company. Sophia loved that company. She and Bernard had built it up together from a guest house started by her parents – she couldn't bear to see Louis destroy it. That was her story – simple as that and every bit as devastating. Sophia is a great lady, Dan, with the emphasis on the lady. But she also has a streak of ruthlessness. She can be hard as iron and cold as steel when needs be. She could have done it. She had both motive and opportunity. You mustn't overlook the fact – she could have been telling the truth.' He raised his glass. ‘Well, good luck to you, Dan, and good luck to that little girl of yours. I honestly would be very pleased to hear you had put the past behind you at last and married again.'

Dan said nothing. Phil Gould was not the first friend to try to persuade him to give it another go and he would certainly not be the last. Dan had given up being offended by the idea they seemed to have that Marianne could be replaced as his smashed motor bike had been. They meant well, he knew. But it would take one hell of a girl to make him forget Marianne. Dan doubted if he would ever meet her. And he was not sure he wanted to.

Juliet turned her car into the pub car park, found a space and reversed into it, the squealing tyres registering their protest at her haste.

Was Dan already here, she wondered? but since she did not know what kind of car he drove she had no way of knowing. She knew very little about him at all if it came to that except that he was the son of her grandmother's advocate but then she supposed that was all she needed to know. His father had done a good job for Sophia, Aunt Catherine had said. That was recommendation in itself. Anyone who had been close to her grandmother earned an instant warm place in her heart.

What a strange thing affinity is, Juliet thought. From the first moment of meeting her grandmother it had been there between them, an unspoken bond. Although Sophia had not seen her since she was a tiny child she seemed to be able to put her finger right on her granddaughter's pulse – no, deeper than that even, Juliet thought – she could see right into her heart and had a knack of bringing to the surface deep hopes and fears, doubts and longings that Juliet scarcely acknowledged.

This morning it had happened again. Juliet had had breakfast with Sophia and they had lingered over coffee talking of Juliet's career.

‘You are certain you are making the right move, are you?' Sophia had asked.

Juliet had smiled ruefully. ‘I can't see how it can be wrong. Darby Grace is a very big, very well respected company and they have offered me a lot more money than I have been making at the Dream Machine.'

Sophia had nodded, her beautiful amethyst eyes thoughtful.

‘Money isn't everything, you know. I suppose you'll think that's amusing, coming from me, and there's absolutely no doubt that it smooths one's path and makes life a great deal more comfortable than it might otherwise be. But the fact is it can also be a trap. If you go into a company offering you an exceptionally good salary before you know where you are you'll find yourself tied to them whether you like it or not. ‘‘I can't give this up and move on,” you'll find yourself saying. ‘‘ It's too good a job''. Especially if you have commitments at home. It's not good at any age and certainly not when you are young.'

‘Grandma, I'm twenty-three.'

Sophia smiled. ‘Twenty-three! If only you would appreciate just how young that really is and make the most of it! I never had the chance to be young – the war saw to that. Oh Juliet, forgive me. I shouldn't be telling you what to do. I'm an interfering old woman.'

‘No you're not,' Juliet said. She was aware of a tingling in her spine as if her grandmother had inadvertently touched on some hidden nerve. How was it she could manage to make Juliet acknowledge her own doubts this way? If she had been one hundred per cent certain about joining Darby Grace why wasn't she there now? Why had she stolen a holiday which had taken her halfway round the world before starting with them? Yet she hadn't even considered refusing the job. Everyone – herself included – had said it was too good an opportunity to miss. Too good to miss. Exactly. Wasn't that what Grandma was saying? That when the advantages were stacked so heavily they made a prison from which it was almost impossible to escape.

It had been the same with Sean. Without even having set eyes on him her grandmother had somehow sensed Juliet's uncertainty, sensed that a good man had trapped her in exactly the same way she was predicting a good job would.

Juliet might have resented Sophia's instinctive knowledge of her as an invasion of her privacy but she did not. Never before had she so totally shared a wavelength with another person and the experience was more comforting than disturbing. Juliet loved her mother and father yet ever since she had been a little girl she had felt apart from them. They did not understand her and she did not understand them. It was almost, she had sometimes thought, as if she and they were looking down two different ends of a telescope. But with her grandmother the understanding was total and the love that sprung from it as natural as the unspoiled countryside which stretched from La Grange to the sea. Only one thing Juliet could not understand: how Sophia could have confessed to killing her own son. But intuition – the same intuition that gave Sophia a clear insight into Juliet's deepest feelings – told Juliet that whatever Sophia had done it had not been murder.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could go home and tell Mum and Dad they were wrong! Juliet thought. With one stroke I could remove the barrier that has kept them apart from Grandma all these years. How worthwhile that would be!

The thought spurred her on and she hurried across the car park and through the main door of the pub into a large room set out as an informal restaurant. Although it was only just after twelve-thirty many of the tables were already occupied. ‘It's as well to be early,' Dan had said to her on the telephone. ‘The Windmill gets busy, even at this time of year.' Now she could see what he meant.

She looked around, unaccountably nervous. She couldn't see him amongst the jumble of people. She had got the right place, hadn't she? Oh surely! It was impossible to mistake the enormous windmill erected on the roof of the pub.

‘Hello there. You got away then.'

She swung round. He was standing behind her. He was wearing a dark blue jersey and grey slacks and she thought with a slight jolt of surprise that he was taller than she had realised.

‘I got away, yes,' she said. ‘ It wasn't as difficult as I imagined it might be.'

She did not elaborate, didn't tell him how half an hour ago she had still been chatting with her grandmother wondering how on earth she could explain dashing off at lunchtime without admitting she had someone to meet. But in the event it could not have been simpler. She had said: ‘ Would you mind if I went out for a bit?' and Sophia had only smiled. ‘Of course not. You know I want you to treat La Grange as your home. Do exactly as you like, my dear. Will we see you for dinner?' She had nodded, glad she'd had the foresight to arrange to meet Dan for lunch. Absent for dinner would certainly have called for an explanation!

‘If there isn't a table free down here we could always go up to the gallery,' Dan suggested.

‘That sounds nice.'

‘Shall we get a drink first? What will you have?'

‘Beer,' Juliet said immediately, then laughed at the look of surprise he was unable to hide. ‘Oh come on, I'm Australian, I'm thirsty, and it's the middle of the day. Don't Jersey girls drink beer?'

‘Some do. A half or a pint?'

‘Oh, a half. Though I'll probably have the other half later!' she added mischievously.

Dan bought two beers and they carried them up the open plan staircase to what he had called ‘the gallery' where more tables had been set out in what reminded Juliet a little of an old-fashioned hay loft.

‘At least we'll be quiet up here,' Dan said. ‘If we ever get served!'

But a waitress was on hand. Dan chose steak and kidney pie and Juliet decided on scampi and salad.

‘I suppose this isn't quite what you're used to,' Dan said as the waitress deposited a vinegar bottle and salt on their table.

‘What do you mean?'

‘Well, as a Langlois I presume you are more used to haute cuisine and a deferential head waiter placing the napkin over your knees!'