Sea Gem (23 page)

As he trotted easily up the coast road towards Cobo, his mind revolved with plans and possibilities. What exactly had happened puzzled him but, more important than that, was the fact that if he
helped the Noyens, perhaps they too would help him. With young Noyen well and truly dead, wouldn’t they want an extra hand in their glasshouses? With a regular wage, guaranteed as long as he
did the work properly, he and Gwen could get married sooner rather than later. Perhaps this day’s mysterious happenings would turn out to be beneficial for both of them. With hope in his
heart he jogged on.

* * *

Mary’s mind had ceased to function. She could not think straight so she simply stared at the approaching waves and refused to look at Duret’s body. Eventually
though, she could not help it. How ugly he looked in death—but had
she
killed him? It was an appalling thought and she forced herself to go back over it all, step by step. The memory
was terrible but as she thought it through with care she knew she was no killer. Her rock had missed Duret’s head though her intentions at the time had been lethal. He had avoided her blow,
the wave had come, larger than its predecessors, Duret had lost his balance, fallen and it was the sea which had smashed him against the hidden rocks and killed him.

She was a widow! She was free of him but she could find no exultation in her heart for his end. They had started off so well and happily. It was tragic their marriage had died, that Duret had
turned into a gambling thief but, worst of all, was the realisation that he had set out to kill from jealousy. Suddenly tears flowed from shock and nervous exhaustion. Bowing her head, she cried
like a child, her head on her knees, with arms around herself. She felt incredibly lonely and vulnerable. She wanted Tante and Sam and Victor and anyone who would be a friend and on her side.

Gradually there were no tears left and she lifted her red face to stare with tight lips at the sea, now at high water. As a widow she would have to start again. She had three children to rear
and Tante was an old lady now. Thank God at least she had taken the first steps for a new career through James le Canu. He would be a rock at her side. Sam would be another. So would Tante but she
must think and plan now as never before. But Victor! She caught her breath. How would he react? She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that in due course he would be around and the mutual
attraction was still just as strong between them. Perhaps it would never go but on this island, where it seemed impossible to keep anything secret, Mary knew a hole-in-the-corner affair with Victor
would damn her in all eyes.

If she wished to establish herself as a successful business lady, her morals must be impeccable. She was shrewd enough to know how gossip flew before the wind and there were always those around
ready to twist statements and actions to suit their warped minds. There was a dull weight in her stomach acute enough to be a real pain. Whatever Victor and she might feel for each other, they were
doomed to be apart. Her children and their financial security came first. Biting her bottom lip, her resolution became firmer. When Victor turned up she would have to make all these thoughts quite
clear. Any plans which flew into Victor’s head now that she was single would have to be thrown out of it. If there had not been young children—and for a few moments she allowed herself
the luxury of fanciful plans. One thing was for sure though, she told herself firmly, no more sexual encounters with Victor. Another child would be catastrophic.

A horse’s hooves, clopping at a fast pace, pushed her dreams away as she craned her neck, then stood slowly. She recognised one of the local farmer’s brown mares and she could spot
Sam’s stance on the driving seat from a distance. Beside him sat the young man, both of them staring anxiously at her.

Mary stood still, aware she was a dreadful sight. The trap stopped and the young man leaped from it energetically while Sam, moving slowly, hurried as quickly as his age allowed.

‘Mary?’ he rasped with worry.

‘I’m all right,’ she told him quickly and nodded. ‘Duret is here. He’s dead.’

Sam threw her a look which held a dozen questions, then turned his attention to Raymond Falla.

‘Come on! Help me lift him in the trap, then you drive him back home and return here. I’ll stay with Madam.’

Raymond hastened to obey, anxious to ingratiate himself in every possible way; it was vital he impress these well-off islanders.

As Raymond drove off more slowly with his burden Sam turned to Mary: ‘What happened?’

Mary felt the tears well up again and spill down her cheeks. ‘He just seemed to go mad,’ she said and told her tale. ‘You see, he came for me. I rushed down here but that young
man wasn’t around just then. Duret meant to kill me. He had his hands around my throat when he caught me but I’d been able to snatch a rock—’

‘You hit him with it?’ Sam asked quickly.

Mary shook her head violently. ‘I tried to but he dodged. Then a big wave came. We were both knocked down and I think that’s when Duret was thrown against a small reef down there.
It’s quite covered now. He must have landed badly and it broke his neck. Oh Sam! He tried to kill me!’ She flung herself on his chest.

Sam was horrified. He closed his eyes as his arms went around her. Dear God! He had never imagined anything like this. When young Falla had burst into the kitchen like a madman while he was
having a cup of Emily’s tea, he had been ready to blast him out of the parish, but one look at Falla’s face and the words he had shouted had stirred Sam into fast action. He had not
realised how quickly he could still move, and he knew his old body would demand recompense later. Yes, he mused, I’m not surprised. Perhaps he was always unbalanced in a way and no one
recognised this.

‘Young Falla did a good job,’ he growled more to himself than her.

Mary lifted her head with swimming eyes. She sniffed and nodded. ‘He did,’ she agreed. ‘We must do something for him in return. Can you see to it, Sam? I don’t think I
can cope with anything else today and there is still Tante to be told.’

‘Leave it all to me!’ he said as he hugged her tightly. What a state she was in. ‘We must get you back and straight into a hot bath with a brandy. I’ll let the
authorities know too and I’ll see Emily keeps the children away. I expect it’ll all be a seven days’ wonder. Deaths from the sea are not rare on the island.’

* * *

James le Canu moodily eyed his beer and decided it had been a mistake to come for his usual evening drink with Emil. The past few days had been unusual ones, which disturbed him
greatly and he eyed Emil dubiously. The police officer was also too quiet for his peace of mind. He sat brooding upon some weighty problem, chewing his lip as if he wanted to question his friend
but realised, if he did so, their friendship could turn into thin ice.

‘Spit it out!’ James snapped.

Emil blinked. James was usually the soul of tact and discretion and such a blunt question was rare enough to warrant attention. Emil eyed him, eyebrows raised a little sardonically. How far
could he go? Even young lawyers could turn difficult but Emil sensed he had not been told everything on a subject that intrigued him. The whole affair had a funny ring to it but his superior was
satisfied as well as the coroner, so why did something niggle him?

‘Madam Noyen’s your client, isn’t she?’ Emil asked suddenly.

Before James could reply, the door opened and Victor le Page strode over to them, waving at the barman for his usual to be poured.

‘I’m back,’ he grinned happily, pleased to find his pals in their usual place. ‘And I had a good trip too. I warrant my second hotel will soon be as full as my first.
People in England are really keen on Channel Island holidays and the right publicity, in the correct places, is worth its weight in gold.’

Victor took a gulp from the offered drink, sucking greedily, for he was always delighted to get back to the island.

‘So what’s been happening while I’ve been away?’ he asked cheerily.

James and Emil exchanged wary glances, then turned to Victor with serious looks. They both knew of the gossip that his eye had been on the young Madam Noyen for many years. Emil also knew about
the diamonds. He had his informers but as the theft had not been reported, there could hardly be a criminal investigation.

‘You’ve not answered my question!’ Emil said suddenly as Victor sat down.

‘I’m not prepared to discuss persons who may or may not be my clients!’ James replied frostily, ignoring Victor’s raised eyebrows.

‘There’s no harm in such a question,’ Emil said mildly. He knew he had been snubbed and though this did not particularly bother him, it did tell him what he wanted to know.

‘Then the same goes for my reply!’ James shot back rapidly.

‘Hey! What’s up with you two?’ Victor asked with a grin. ‘You look like two dogs ready to scrap over a bone!’

James and Emil turned to face him, expressions grave, eyes sombre, lips pinched. Victor felt the first flicker of alarm. He saw that Emil wore a dark scarf loosely at his throat and a mac,
though he still wore his uniform trousers. Under other circumstances this attempt at denying his occupation would have amused Victor. Everyone knew he was a police officer.

James, he saw, was dressed in a smartly cut black suit and wore a black tie. He always dressed in sober colours as befitted his calling but this sombreness was enough to make him appear
funereal.

‘In that case, why go to the funeral?’ Emil barked suddenly

The question was unexpected and, for once, James was caught flat-footed. ‘Respect!’ was the best he could do.

‘Hold it, you two! Who has died? Don’t forget I’ve been away for just over a week. And for heaven’s sake, stop glowering at each other as if you hate the other’s
guts when everyone knows you’re big mates,’ Victor said mildly.

The two men paused as if reluctant to give the information, then Emil shook his head and spoke: ‘Duret Noyen was buried today,’ he said flatly.

Victor, who had been in the act of taking a large gulp, froze, spluttered, downed the pot on the table with a bang and stared at them, speechless, unable to trust his ears.

‘Did you say—?’ he managed to get out hoarsely.

‘That’s right,’ James confirmed. ‘I went to the funeral and indeed I only left the family a short while ago.’

‘Good God!’ Victor blurted out. ‘What the hell happened?’

Emil told him what he knew. ‘It appears young Noyen had some kind of brain storm. Perhaps something had upset him the day before,’ he said smoothly and waited.

‘Upset him?’ Victor repeated like a parrot.

‘Yes,’ James said. ‘He vanished from his home and the next day attacked his wife and tried to kill her.’

Victor went white. This was getting worse by the minute. He looked from one to the other, then, shaking his head with his ears ringing at their words, he could only wait helplessly for one of
them to continue.

‘It seems he followed her when she was driving the trap. The cob loosened a shoe and Madam Noyen stopped to check it. Just then her husband came around the bend. There were hot words
between them!’

‘About what?’ Victor grated.

Emil chimed in then, taking time to pick his words with care. ‘This did not all come out at the public inquest for the sake of the widow. But Sam Mahy did tell me that Noyen accused her of
having a lover.’

‘Hell!’ Victor swore.

Emil carried on. ‘The long and short of it is that she became afraid of him and bolted to the coast road—this all took place at Vazon Bay incidentally. The tide was nearly full and
Madam Noyen found no one around. She went down on the sand to pick up a stone with which to defend herself. Noyen went for her then, intending to throttle her. She threw the rock she’d picked
up, which missed and the post mortem confirms this. Madam did not kill her husband. The sea did. A very large wave came, which caught both of them. Madam went under but managed to get out again.
Noyen went down and broke his neck on submerged rocks.’

‘Bloody hell!’ Victor gasped, sat back and closed his eyes, then shook his head as if to clear it. He was more appalled by this story than anything he had heard in his life. His
blood went icy cold as he visualised the scene. It was the thrashing he’d given Duret which must have turned his mind, tipping the scales to insanity. Then he reminded himself, to rub salt
into this wound, his grandmère had taken him into her cosy home like a prodigal son. How savage Noyen must have been; he had automatically taken it out on Mary. Dear heavens! She could so
easily have been killed. A shiver shot down his back as he opened his eyes slowly to find the other two watching him calculatingly.

‘I can hardly take this in,’ Victor murmured. His beer had gone flat and he had lost interest in it. ‘Noyen dead after trying to kill Mary?’

Slowly he stood, snapping a look at his watch. With a nod to the other two, he turned to go, wits bemused. With a sharp flash of instinct James stood as well.

‘Back in a moment!’ he told Emil whose eyes opened wide. Now what did foxy James find he had to say in private? He would give a lot to know but made no attempt to follow.

‘Victor!’ James called urgently.

‘What?’

‘If you’re thinking of going out there right now to see your—Grandmère—don’t! Let them alone for today. It’s been rough on both of the Noyen ladies, so
don’t intrude,’ he advised firmly.

Victor turned to him frowning heavily. ‘With all due respect James, what business is it of yours?’ he asked coolly.

‘Madam Noyen, the younger, happens to be my client and I’ll not have her badgered today by you or anyone else,’ James told him stiffly.

Victor was staggered. James was—Mary’s lawyer? But what did Mary need a lawyer for in the first place? Grandmère was head of the family, wasn’t she? He frowned heavily.
Was something happening about which he knew nothing? His lips went tight and he returned James’ cold stare.

‘All right,’ he agreed slowly, ‘but I’m going there tomorrow. The old lady is my grandmère and I’ve the moral right to see how the family is.’