The Far Side of the Sun (43 page)

‘I am already hurt. Because you’re in here.’

He wanted to touch her face, to taste her skin one more time.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Though Christie may be threatening me, it’s only with his lawyer. He told me to go to Hector Latcham and —’

Flynn’s hand seized her arm. He shook it hard. ‘Why? Why the hell would you go to Hector Latcham? Keep away from him.’

‘Hector Latcham?’

‘Yes.’ The word snapped out of him.

‘Why? He’s
your
lawyer.’

‘Like hell he is. Parfury is —’

‘I work for Mr Latcham, sir,’ Parfury said mildly over by the door.

Flynn’s heart shut down. His skin grew cold. After all he’d done to protect her, he’d not allowed for this, not this…

‘Flynn?’

He was on his feet and standing right in front of Parfury. ‘Give me two minutes,’ he said urgently. He saw the lawyer glance warily at his clenched fists. ‘Two minutes. That’s all. Let me have two minutes alone with her.’

‘No, I can’t, it’s against the rules.’

‘Then break the goddam rules. Two minutes.’

‘No, Mr Hudson, I…⁠’ But something Parfury saw in him made him change his mind. He gave a quick rap on the door and made his exit. ‘Two minutes,’ he muttered. ‘I’m counting.’

The moment the door swung shut, Flynn pulled Dodie to her feet and spoke fast. ‘Don’t go near Hector Latcham. You hear me? He’s dangerous.’

‘But he was helpful. He is Ella Sanford’s friend and so is being kind to —’

Flynn gripped her shoulders. ‘Remember I told you that the mobsters had another guy on this island, my contact here. Named Spencer?’

Her lips opened, their colour drained away.

‘His real name is Hector Latcham. He’s the one who hired thugs to beat you up. So don’t tell me that mob lawyer is helpful and kind. Don’t —’

Without warning he pulled her against his chest, so hard that her chin nearly cracked a rib. ‘Dodie, you must swear to me you won’t go near him again. I didn’t tell you his name before because I figured it meant you wouldn’t go near him. I was trying to keep you safe.’

She stood still and silent in his arms, but he could feel her heartbeat. Out of control. Quietly she started to talk.

‘Flynn, this means you won’t get out of here. Not with Hector Latcham overseeing your case at the trial. I’ll arrange a different lawyer immediately, I can’t…⁠’ The words seemed to swell in her throat. ‘I can’t… bear to think that…⁠’

‘Don’t, Dodie.’

She lifted her face and he kissed her mouth. He had only seconds left. ‘Promise me you won’t go near him.’

‘I promise, but —’ Suddenly she pulled back from him, eyes huge. ‘Ella!’

‘Ella Sanford? What about her?’

‘She was meeting him today to ask him all about Portman Cay.’

Before he could argue, she was out of his arms and hammering on the door. ‘Let me out!’

Hector parked up on the road and they walked down together through the shade of the trees. The gleaming white beach burst out at them with blinding brilliance when they emerged, a perfect horseshoe of shimmering sand that curled away in both directions. Beyond, a sea and sky of such fierce turquoise was clamped tightly around it that for one odd moment Ella had a feeling that there was no escape.

‘What do you think?’

‘It’s certainly beautiful,’ Ella commented.

Hector was pressing a hand flat on top of his smooth brown hair as if he were suffering a headache, but his eyes were bright and his movements alert. He reminded Ella of one of the sandpipers that stalked the water’s edge, never still.

‘I need to know more about the person who bought this beach,’ Ella said. ‘Dodie Wyatt told me it was someone called Mr Alan Leggaty.’

‘Did she indeed?’

‘Do you know him? You must have drawn up the contract.’

‘I didn’t meet Mr Leggaty personally.’

‘Isn’t that odd?’

‘Not really. I have minions for that.’

Something was wrong. Ella didn’t know what, but she could feel it. Perhaps Hector was regretting giving up so much time to bring her out here, because certainly his mind seemed to be elsewhere. They were walking a stretch of the beach close to the surf where the sand was firm, and Ella carried her shoes in her hand, letting the breeze snatch away the images in her head of the mass grave at the bottom of her garden. But she couldn’t stop a shiver when she thought of Dan.

‘Are you all right, Ella?’

‘Yes.’ She looked at the man beside her, solid dependable Hector whose passion was yacht racing and whose only vice seemed to be a tendency to bore his wife Tilly with boat-talk too much. ‘No, Hector,’ Ella said truthfully, ‘to be honest I’m not all right.’ She came to a halt on the warm sand and looked up into his face. ‘I’m frightened.’

His cheeks were red. The sun? Or the headache? Strangely he didn’t look startled by her admission.

‘Frightened? My poor Ella, tell me why.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I can’t…⁠’

On the empty beach he took her hand between his. ‘Yes, you can tell me. I’m your friend, Ella. I’m here to help.’

So she told him. About the chickens. About her worries that someone could be watching her.

‘Why would anyone be watching you?’ he asked, and she heard the understandable ripple of amusement in his tone.

‘Because I saw something that I wasn’t meant to see.’

‘And what was that?’

She almost didn’t tell him. Almost. But his concern felt so real and he wasn’t the kind of man to scoff.

‘I saw a hoard of gold in Sir Harry’s house. The night Morrell was there, the man who was —’

A strange noise came from him. Part way between a cough and a groan. ‘A hoard of gold? Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. I called there that night collecting for the Red Cross and it was on the table.’

She told him about the coin that Dodie had brought to her and that she had believed it was a warning from Morrell to beware of Sir Harry. But now she wasn’t so sure.

‘They both saw the gold and now they’re both dead.’ Slowly she raked her foot through the sand. ‘What do you think, Hector? Should I be frightened or am I just being foolish? You’re a lawyer, you know about these things. I don’t want to worry Reggie. Give me advice, because I haven’t told the police yet, not formally.’

‘Haven’t you?’

Hector was staring out to sea where the waves were rolling in with soft murmurs.

‘Have you told anyone you think the murders are connected with the sale of this tract of land?’

‘No.’

‘Good,’ he said and it seemed to be aimed more at the waves than at her.

Ella frowned. Again that feeling that something wasn’t quite right. She followed his line of sight and noticed a yacht anchored about a mile off shore, flickering like a white seabird in the sunlight. She lifted her hand to shade her eyes.

‘Hector, is that
Storm Cloud
?’

He nodded.

‘What’s she doing here?’ Ella asked.

‘I sail her to this bay sometimes. When I want some peace and quiet.’
Storm Cloud
was Hector’s new boat. ‘I keep a tender in an inlet among those rocks over there. A guard watches over things some days.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘Morrell is dead, Ella. So is Sir Harry. Why don’t you leave it to the police? That’s my advice to you. Don’t get involved.’

‘Like Dodie Wyatt has done, you mean? No, Hector, it’s too late for that.’ Ella started to walk up the slope of the beach. ‘Let’s go back. I’ve seen enough.’

But she hadn’t gone more than a few paces when Hector said with deliberate emphasis, ‘When Miss Wyatt found Morrell dying, she claims he didn’t have any gold with him. Not even the ivory box it came in.’

Ella’s foot halted. Her breath stopped. All she could hear was the silence as she turned back to face Hector. He was smiling sadly at her.

‘What ivory box, Hector? I’ve not mentioned any kind of box.’

‘Come out to my boat, Ella. It’s a good day for a sail, there’s a stiff breeze out there.’

Hector’s words sounded ridiculously calm and reasonable. But her heart was thundering in her chest. Could she be mistaken? Surely a man who was her friend, whose wife was her closest friend, could not be saying what she thought he was saying, could not mean what she thought he was meaning.

‘You know I’m a rotten sailor, Hector,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Let’s head on home now. It’s too hot out —’

‘Ella!’

That one word told her what she didn’t want to know.

She turned to face Hector. He was pointing a gun at her.

Dodie raced through the streets of Nassau. She dodged across roads, tore around corners, ducked under parasols, wove through the crowds ambling along the hot streets, a scream of fury lodged in her throat.

Hector Latcham.

He had smiled at her.

He had promised her help.

He had called her
my
dear young lady
.

And all the time he was laughing. Because he’d burnt down her house. Had her beaten to a pulp.

Hector Latcham.

The name was branded on her skin in bruises. What kind of man was he? One who destroyed people at will. One who hid behind a wall of smiles, passing unnoticed among his colonial herd.

She ran on to Bay Street. With its friendly pastel face. Its canopied walkways. Its elegant shops. Her heart was pounding as she sped over the pavement, aware that above her, above the shops, above the street, above the law, rose the offices. Where lies were told. Deals were struck. Fates were sealed.

Hector Latcham. The name gleamed innocently on the brass plaque on the door. She rang the bell to his office.

Be there, Ella. Please. Be there
.

‘So where is she?’

‘I don’t know, Miss Wyatt.’

‘Where did he take her?’

‘I don’t know, Miss Wyatt.’

‘You must know something.’

‘I’m sorry I can’t help.’

‘When did they leave?’

‘Well over an hour ago, I think. But Mr Latcham didn’t mention where they were going.’

‘Did he say when he’d be back?’

‘No, he didn’t. Look, Miss Wyatt, is it really so urgent that you can’t wait until —’

‘Yes. It’s urgent. Yes. It’s very very urgent. Please, think. Did either of them mention Portman Cay?’

‘No, not that I heard. But —’

‘What?’

‘Well, just as they were walking out of the office, I heard Mrs Sanford laugh and say she wasn’t wearing shoes that were right for the beach.’

‘Thank you. Thank you.’

‘Hector! What are you doing?’

‘I warned you, Ella, not to get involved.’

He approached her over the sand. Even a bad shot couldn’t miss from there. Ella forced herself to look away from the blunt business-end of the gun and to look at the face of the man who intended to kill her.

‘Hector, have you gone crazy?’

But it wasn’t Hector’s eyes that looked back at her. They were the cold eyes of someone she didn’t know. His pupils were dark pinpoints of anger and his mouth was twisted in a grimace.

‘Why did you force me into this, Ella? You fool, there was no need for it. If you’d kept out of everything and let me deal with your interfering friend, Miss Wyatt, and her Yankee troublemaker, there’d have been none of this.’

He nudged the gun towards her and she backed off a pace. The trees were close but not close enough. If she made a run for it he’d put a bullet in her back, she didn’t doubt it for a second.

‘The chickens were my warning?’ she asked.

‘Of course.’

‘And you expected me to lie down and keep my mouth shut? To do nothing?’ She was advancing on him now, a pulse pumping at her throat.

A bullet hit the sand in front of her feet. It shattered the silence of the bay and sent a flock of gulls wheeling up into the air with a clatter of wings.

‘No further.’ The gun pointed at her chest.

‘Or what? You’ll kill me? You’re going to do that anyway. Like you killed Morrell, I presume. And Sir Harry too? Or was that Christie who… ?’

She saw his eyes narrow a fraction and knew he was about to pull the trigger.

‘Why, Hector? What’s this about? Tell me that much, at least.’

‘What do you think it’s about, Ella? Money. Everything is always about money.’ He gave her a crooked half-smile. ‘Or love.’

The way he said the word
love
. It had claw marks on it.

‘You know about me and… ?’

‘Detective Sergeant Calder? Of course I know. I’ve had you followed.’

Her mouth was dry and words were stumbling on her lips but she tried to talk to him the way she would talk to the old Hector.

‘Don’t do this, Hector. Don’t make things worse for yourself. I am your friend and you know that Reggie and I will do all we can to help you.’