Daughter of Riches (38 page)

Juliet hardly knew whether to be flattered or annoyed. She was far less used to living in the lap of luxury than he seemed to imagine, but her irrepressible sense of humour came to her rescue.

‘Oh. I don't mind roughing it once in a while,' she said airily. ‘As long as it's in the cause of proving my grandmother's innocence!'

He laughed, admiring her for turning the tables on him so neatly. ‘I take it that is an invitation to get down to business,' he said.

‘You could put it like that. I won't deny I am very anxious to know if you have been able to make any progress.'

Dan hesitated. He had a journalist's – and policeman's – natural reluctance to share his information, yet he knew that if he was to retain Juliet's confidence and use her position in the family to gain inside knowledge he must give the impression that he was digging more on her behalf than on his own.

‘I've talked to one or two people,' he hedged. ‘What about you?'

‘I'm afraid I haven't got very far,' she confessed. ‘It's so difficult knowing how to bring the subject up. They're all so cagey. And I don't want to upset Grandma.'

‘You are going to have to if you're going to turn up anything new.'

‘I suppose so. I was hoping that you …'

‘You were hoping I was going to do it all for you?' His voice was cold; once again the hard streak of the professional investigator had surfaced.

Juliet coloured. ‘It's not that,' she said defensively. ‘It's just that I really didn't know where to start. I thought maybe if you could give me some kind of lead I need not rush in treading all over people's toes unnecessarily. Who did you talk to anyway?'

‘A policeman.'

‘And what did he say? Did
he
think Grandma was guilty?'

‘He said she might have been. Equally so might any of the rest of the members of your family.'

He heard the quick intake of her breath before it came out on a nervous little laugh.

‘Do you have to put it so baldly?'

‘You asked me what my contact said. I'm telling you.'

She was silent for a moment, turning her glass between her hands on the bare, ring-marked wooden table.

‘I'm sorry,' she said at last. ‘It's just that I find the whole thing incredible. It's almost as difficult to believe any of them were responsible as it is to believe Grandma … I mean, just look at them! Paul and Viv, middle-aged, no, more than that unless they are going to live to be a hundred and thirty or so, living a quiet sort of life and minding their own business; David, liked by everybody in spite of being head of the family business; Aunt Catherine, a bit eccentric but really sweet.'

‘Your Aunt Catherine seems to be out of it. She was in London at the time, it would seem.'

‘Well good. I'm glad to hear it. But I don't think any of them …'

‘There are two others you've forgotten to mention. Your mother and father.'

For a moment he wondered if he had pushed her too far. Her head jerked up, eyes snapping with the hidden fire he had always suspected was there.

‘Don't be ridiculous!'

‘I'm not. They can't be excluded. They were here, remember. And they had motive and opportunity just like the others. I imagine.'

‘For heaven's sake, how can you even suggest such a thing?'

‘
I'm
not suggesting it. Others might. After all, if Sophia didn't kill Louis, someone else did. Statistics prove that murder is most often incestuous – victim and perpetrator are closely involved in some way. Let's face it, on that basis neither of your parents can be ruled out.'

The waitress came clattering up the stairs with the meals they had ordered and whilst she served them Dan tried to read Juliet's mind. He was taking a chance, he knew, by pushing her this far, but it was a calculated risk, based on the assumption that his suggestion that her parents might have been involved would give her an extra incentive to get to the truth. It had been one thing for her to want to prove her grandmother's innocence when she had assumed an outsider had killed Louis, now he had pointed out one of the family might have been responsible and she realised the hornet's nest she could be stirring up she might well back off. But if she thought her own parents were under suspicion then surely she would be all the more determined to uncover the culprit. Her first loyalty would be to them; the Jersey relatives couldn't mean that much to her – she had scarcely known them until a week or so ago. She would almost certainly throw them to the wolves to safeguard her parents' reputation.

Of course there was always the possibility that Robin or Molly
had
had something to do with Louis's death; they counted very much as suspects in Dan's book, but by the time such a thing occurred to Juliet, if ever it did, he hoped she would have provided him with the leads he needed.

‘I'm sorry if I've upset you,' he said as the waitress disappeared again down the open-plan staircase. ‘I just happen to think you should know what it is you're getting into.'

She rolled her knife and fork out of the paper napkin they were wrapped in.

‘You haven't upset me. Annoyed me, perhaps. But not upset me. I was
upset
to discover my grandmother had served time for murder, even if they did call it manslaughter or whatever. After that, to be quite honest, everything else seems very small beer.'

Her voice was determinedly casual but he knew from the set of her face and her eyes, dangerously bright, that whatever she might say she
was
upset.

She's got guts, he thought, as well as being pretty. And beneath that veneer she is really rather vulnerable.

‘Let's talk about something else while we're eating,' he suggested.

‘I'd rather get it all over with at one go.' She put down her knife and fork and looked at him directly. ‘ What is it you want me to do?'

A nerve jumped in his throat, part triumph, part nervousness that it might still get away from him.

‘Firstly I'd like to know exactly what each of them thought of Louis. They might be a good deal more truthful now than they were twenty years ago. And secondly I'd like to know where each of them claims to have been on the evening he died.'

‘Don't you think they'll be a bit hazy about that after all this time?'

‘I doubt it. After all everyone who was around at the time claims to be able to remember exactly what they were doing when they heard President Kennedy had been shot. When it comes to a family member their memory is bound to be that much sharper.'

‘I suppose so. All right, I'll see what I can do. And what about you …?'

‘I'll do the same.'

She nodded, apparently satisfied, and picked up her knife and fork.

‘All right.
Now
I'll talk about something different. What do you suggest?'

Jersey, Dan thought, was probably the safest subject. He would have liked to have asked Juliet something about herself – where she lived in Australia, what she did for a living – even a girl who would one day inherit the Langlois fortune must presumably do something! – whether she had a serious relationship … yes, he thought, he would very much like to know whether she had a serious relationship. But if he began asking her personal questions it was possible she would turn the tables and do the same to him. That could be awkward. Dan wouldn't have minded being quizzed about his private life; in his usual less-than-garrulous way he would have simply said he had no ties now and hadn't had for a very long time. Nothing, but nothing, would have drawn him on the subject of Marianne. But if Juliet began asking questions about what he did for a living it could get very awkward. Rack his brains as he might Dan had been unable to come up with a euphemism for ‘journalist' which would be acceptable, neither arousing Juliet's suspicions nor her further curiosity. And he did not want to lie to her. Strange really, considering the shameless way he was using her, but there was a fine dividing line between deception by default and outright deliberate lying and Dan knew he could not bring himself to cross it.

I am like George Washington, he thought with a flash of self-derogatory humour. I go round cutting down any cherry tree that takes my fancy but I cannot tell a lie.

‘So. ‘I suppose you've been spending your time looking up old haunts,' he said, biting into his steak and kidney pie.

‘Not really. I was only very young when I left, remember. Old haunts for me would be Grandma's garden, the beach, the fields near where I lived. I've driven around the lanes, of course, parked up at a few beauty spots to admire the views, but that's about all. I suppose I'm in a funny position, really, neither a tourist nor a resident, and the family seem to forget that because I've been away so long my geography of the island is limited to the hire company map and my knowledge of its history is really very sketchy indeed.'

Dan smiled, blessing his good fortune. His father, Dan senior, had been quite an amateur historian, a member of the Societe Jersiaise and a wonderful raconteur into the bargain. Unconsciously Dan now borrowed something of his style as he related the old stories to Juliet, telling her how Jersey had once been part of Normandy and had remained so during the English reign of the Duke of Normandy, William the Conqueror. Later, when France and England were at war, Jersey had become an English outpost and during the French Revolution it had provided refuge for fleeing aristocracy. A beautiful island which had seen more than its fair share of conflict, his father had always said – and always been used as a pawn between international powers.

‘As was proved in the last war,' he said, finishing the last of his steak and kidney pie with relish. ‘Jersey under the jackboot. But I'm sure you know all about that.'

Juliet had to admit she did not. The war was yet another subject on which her family were curiously reticent.

‘Well there is plenty of evidence everywhere of what happened then,' Dan said drily. ‘ The Jersey tourist industry is quite determined to make sure no one ever forgets we were the only part of England to be under German domination. You could be forgiven for saying we trade on it just the tiniest bit.'

‘I wouldn't say that!' Juliet protested. ‘Actually I want to have a look around some of the war museums but I haven't got around to it yet. I keep hoping one of the family will offer to take me but they don't and I don't like to suggest it. I don ‘t want to impose on them too much.'

‘So why don't I take you?' He said it without thinking, almost shocking himself. Juliet, too, looked surprised.

‘Really? Well, that's very kind. But I didn't mean …'

He smiled. ‘No, I'm sure you didn't. It would be my pleasure. I suggest the Underground Hospital. It was built by prisoners-of-war and it's pretty spectacular. I keep meaning to go and have another look at it myself but you know how it is when you live in a place – it takes a visitor to make you make the effort.'

‘That's true. I live in Sydney but how often do I go to the Opera House?'

‘I don't know. How often do you?'

‘Practically never. Silly really.' She glanced at her watch. ‘Good lord, is that the time? Don't you have a job to go to?'

‘It's all right. I work for myself, which is why I shall be able to take you to the Underground Hospital tomorrow if that suits you.' He said it smoothly but then went swiftly on before she could ask him what it was that he did: ‘It might be best if I didn't pick you up though. Will you come to my house or shall I meet you there?'

She frowned slightly and he cursed himself, knowing she was wondering why he did not want her family to know he was seeing her. He should know better than to mix business with pleasure, dammit! And he still wasn't sure why he had done it. She was a very attractive girl, not a doubt of it, but he wasn't interested in girls, attractive or otherwise … was he?

‘You think they might recognise you and ask some awkward questions?' she said thoughtfully. ‘Well, transport is no problem for me. Perhaps it would be easiest if I met you at the Hospital. I'm sure I can find it from my map without too much trouble.'

‘Shall we say about three?'

‘Why not? I don't suppose I'll have been able to find out anything by then but …'

‘At least we'll be keeping in touch.'

And that, he told himself, explained it. He didn't want to risk losing contact with Miss Juliet Langlois now because he didn't want to lose the chance of a rattling good story. Anything else was purely incidental.

Dan had his key in the lock when he heard the telephone ringing. He pushed the door open and strode across the hall to snatch up the receiver.

‘Hello?'

‘Dan? I was just about to give up on you! Phil Gould.'

‘Phil!' Dan only just stopped himself from saying ‘Mr Gould'. ‘I've been out to lunch.'

‘Lucky for some!'

‘It was business.'

‘Oh yes? I'll believe you. Dan – you know what you were asking me about? And you know I said I reckoned it was purely a family affair? Well there was one thing I forgot. There's probably nothing in it, but there was a connection with Raife Pearson.'

‘Raife Pearson? The Jersey Lily Nightclub man?'

‘The same. Louis had been there, at the club, the night he died – and he and Raife had had a bust up. They were great pals, he and Raife, or at least they had been. You might say they were two of a kind, both flashy opportunists. At the time, of course, Raife looked the flashier. He was the one to catch the tourist trade in the early seventies with his big extravaganza varieties full of so-called star names that nobody had ever heard of – smutty comics and off-key singers, six-foot ex-Bluebell dancers in feathers and tights, second-rate magicians and even a fire-eater, you know the sort of thing. Seedy glitz. Whilst Louis, of course, represented the respectable end of the luxury market. But as I say they'd always had enough in common to be great pals – until that night.'