RJ Book 10 Taking Care of Business

by Earl Nelson

  Instead, I was told an amount that was twice what was being sent to the Duke was being charged.

  All of a sudden my quick trip didn’t look so quick. I had questions that needed answers.

  After an hour's drive on route 902, we came to a huge intersection. It was like a cloverleaf on an American highway. Route 44 merged with it. So it wasn’t a full four-leaf clover but only three.

  There was plenty of open land on the feeder roads. I could see why it would be a natural spot to put a truck stop and other roadside facilities.

  I asked about that and the kids, as I thought of them told me that a big fight about the land had been going on for a long time. It was hoped as the new owner I would get it settled so jobs would be created in the area.

  Arriving at la hacienda was an experience. To get to it we left the main highway on a private road and had to drive two miles to the main house. I called it the main house but it was a small village in its own right.

  I could see a small general store with gas pumps. A school that had no work done, at least on the outside, a small church. There even was a cantina.

  Alejandro drove up to the front door of the main house. It was old looking. When I asked how old, Elisa proudly told me that it had been built in 1895 but the buildings had been updated only ten years ago.

  That was before the Duke owned the place. There had to be a story here.

  On the trip, I learned that the ranch grew olives, grapes, almonds, walnuts, cherries, apples, and wheat. It was more of what I thought of as a farm rather than a ranch.

  The surrounding land looked very familiar to me. It looked like the California foothills in the summer. All brown hillsides. I bet in the spring everything would green-up.

  That made sense as all of the early settlers chose land that looked like home because they knew how to work it. This was true of English, Spanish, and Scandanavians, or anyone else you could name. It made a lot of sense.

  Well until you got to the Louisiana bayou. That area never made sense to me, but the natives loved it.

  The kid's mother greeted me at the door. She was a widow that was the housekeeper for the main house. I don’t see how she could be charged any rent to live there.

  I made a mental note to ask her about it as soon as I got settled in. As the new owner, I was given the master suite. It hadn’t been used for a long time but was elegant. I think it was last redecorated in about 1920 by someone who loved Rococo.

  Over the top is the best words I have. It could have been used as a stereotypical Spanish bedroom as a movie set. The movie would have had to be a period piece. As I looked around it kind of grew on me. It was so ugly that it worked.

  The room had been dusted and the bedding changed so it was fresh. I didn’t have to worry about bedbugs here.

  There was no telephone in the room. The only one I had noticed was on a table in the hallway. It might be the only one in the house.

  I later learned that there was one in the office which served both the ranch and house. It was a large room built with solid walls. This could have been used to stand off an Indian raid.

  Chapter 15

  I went back downstairs and was formally introduced to Senora Echeveria, mother of Alejandro and Elisa. She is a nice-looking woman about my mother's age.

  After exchanging pleasantries she asked if I wanted a tour of the ranch. I told her yes if she would accompany us. The family and I then set out on a walking tour of the main building surrounding the main house.

  My initial impression was correct it was like a small village. As we walked I asked various questions like how many people lived on the ranch, around two thousand.

  After several of these, I asked her what her rent was for living in the main house. She told me a number that was twice what the accounts gave as the in-kind amount the ranch was charging off the books. She was not supposed to be paying anything.

  I then asked if we could speak to the priest in charge of the local school. That was easy as we were just standing outside of the building the local priest lived in. I think it is called the Diocesan House. Fra Tomas was right there, I think he had been watching us out of a window. I asked him for a tour of the school.

  He gave me a short tour of the four-room building, it also had a central auditorium. No money had been spent on the building or classroom materials in many years.

  I tried to innocently work in questions about the man who handled the ranch’s books and bank accounts. I would have thought it would be someone working on the ranch.

  Instead, it was a local accounting firm with offices in Granada. It was run by Senor Francisco. I asked what he was like. Instead of telling me about him as a person, I was told that he was a cousin to the local Chief of Police.

  The way Fra Tomas answered me I knew I wasn’t fooling him a bit about what I was thinking.

  After finishing up the tour I asked if there was a phone I could use in private. That is when I saw the office. It was big and had a lot of possibilities, though I would be spending little time here.

  I called Jim Wallace and asked him to put together a team of accountants to go completely over the ranch's books. There had been fraud on a major scale. He was to put the team together but do nothing until I contacted him.

  I then called Mr. Norman and asked him how I would go about getting official help in Spain when I thought the local police chief and accountants might be crooked.

  He told me that I should go through the British Consulate to make contact with the Cuerpo Nacional de Policia (CPN) or National Police. They handled the investigation of crimes that may involve the local authorities.

  He gave the number of the Consulate in Madrid. I would call them tomorrow as it was getting late in the day. I returned to my room and lay down for a few minutes.

  An hour later Alejandro woke me up knocking on my door. It was dinner time. In the country, they didn’t eat as late as in the city but it was still eight o’clock in the evening.

  At dinner, they all spoke English with me. Little Elisa told her mother in Spanish that the Mary, Mary collection had some new dresses out that she would love to have.

  They had to know sooner or later so I replied in Spanish, “Do you know she is my sister?”

  You talk about looks. Mum was surprised, Elisa gasps, and Alejandro looked mortified.

  “I’m sorry but this morning I got cut off before I could say I speak Spanish. Then Elisa made her comment about American actors having to stand on a box and I just had to get even.”

  Mum asked, “Get even?”

  “I’m the actor who she said was so short I had to stand on a box to kiss the girl.”

  Elisa ran from the table wailing at this point. I always had a way with girls.

  Her mother left the room to try to calm her daughter down. I was starting to feel bad about my little joke.

  Alejandro started laughing, “Serves her right. She is always making assumptions, then blaming the world for her mistakes.”

  “Still, I shouldn’t have let it gone on for so long.”

  “I know how you can get back in her good graces.”

  “How?”

  “Your little sister.”

  And that's how Mary got a Spanish model for her collection. It worked so well her people started recruiting girls from all the different countries and ethnic groups they could. It did get me out of the dog house with Elisa after I called Mary and told her I needed her help.

  She told me she would do it as she still owed me for the East German kidnapping. Man, she keeps score like no one I know. I would have to arrange her kidnapping regularly to stay ahead.

  The next morning I called the British Consulate and explained to the charge de affairs what I suspected. He arranged a conference call with the CPN, on a Saturday no less. I was impressed.

  After I hung up within two hours two plainclothes men were at the ranch. After explaining what I saw and showing them the Duke's summary of the
ranch's finances they talked to Mrs. Echerivera and Fra Tomas.

  A tour of the school was the final straw. They then told me they had been trying to get the goods on the pólice chief and his cousin for some time. This would put them away.

  I wrote personal checks to Mrs. Echerivera and Fra Tomas. Mrs. Echerivera’s to reimburse her for her rent since I owned the ranch, the Fra’s much larger one to start fixing up the school.

  I also asked them to start looking for a person to keep the ranch books that would live on site.

  That was when I learned that Mrs. Echervivera was a degreed accountant who couldn’t find work locally since her husband died.

  I immediately hired her to keep the business side of the ranch under control and she was to hire a housekeeper. Neither of them to pay rent. I also asked what the going rate for an accountant was and paid top end for that.

  It is good to have money and be able to fix some wrongs. I couldn’t fix the world but I would do what I could.

  I addressed one last piece of unfinished business.

  “Who should I contact about building facilities on the autovía?”

  She didn’t know but had a cousin who would. I had to remember that different countries had different methods. In Spain, the family came first. I asked her to call him tomorrow to start the process.

  I told her that the work would be bid out. That also there would be several accountants from my home office to check out the true financial condition of the ranch and help her set up the books.

  She told me that I should also hire a business manager to replace the one the accountants in town were using. He would see that the ranch's products would be sold, but they were never told what the profit if any was.

  The same people refused to let them buy new tractors or any other equipment. I could see that this would probably be a financial sinkhole until everything was updated.

  At breakfast Sunday morning I asked a question that had been at the back of my mind since I arrived.

  “Everyone calls this the ranch, I thought most estates like this have a formal name.”

  “The Duke had a chance to rename it but never bothered. Would you like to give it a name?”

  That's how Jackson House Espania got its name.

  Alejandro and Elisa drove me back to the airport for my flight back to England. By this time Elisa had talked to Mary, so I was in her good graces. She was excited by what Mary purposed.

  I told her I hadn’t thought of it before but the next time she talked to Mary suggest they do a photoshoot at Jackson House Espania.

  It would be neat if they did, especially when I presented Mary with the bill for using my property. Teach her to cheat me at Monopoly!

  Of course, I would tear the bill up, but it would be fun to see the look on her face.

  The flight home was uneventful thank goodness. I had enough going on in the last two days to last me for a while.

  I slept most of the flight home, I dreamed I was in a movie with an actress so tall I had to stand on a box. Would you call that a nightmare?

  Chapter 16

  I got home late enough Sunday that I went straight to bed without talking to anyone. After my morning exercises and run at breakfast I updated Grand Mum and Mr. Hamilton on my trip to Spain.

  Grand Mum wanted to know if my actions would have the Spanish National Police knocking on the door. I told her I didn’t think so. I was the good guy this time. Wait, I’m always the good guy.

  It seemed Mr. Hamilton had spent some time in Spain during his army career. He told me that I should consider how I was doing business there.

  It would be best if I had a partnership with some locals. Even though the way the ranch ownership was set up there still could be questions about foreign ownership. Foreigners were not allowed direct ownership of property.

  The Company setup got around this but it would be best if I had some Spanish partners. I told him I would give this some thought.

  I decided to go out to the dig and check on things rather than attend my first class, it was the economics class and I didn’t feel like facing that today. I was becoming a real college student, any excuse to cut class!

  Once I got past the security at the dig I caught up with David. He took me over to a tent set up for the security team and got me a badge. It was cool, they took my picture and laminated it and I could wear it around my neck on a cord.

  There was no change in the appearance of the site as they were still doing the preliminary survey. He was particularly excited about one área.

  The área looked level but when they started probing they found it was a large depression that had been filled in. There was a good chance it was the camp dump. For an archaeologist, it would be a treasure trove.

  I think I liked the treasure trove I found better.

  I asked if many people had come nosing around. It seems they had come in droves. Yesterday they had so many visitors that a display set up in the field out front of what the área looked like and examples of what they had found so far.

  Except for the treasure that is, that was safely in the British Museum. They even had come up with an empty chest like those I had found.

  I asked him how much they were charging to park cars and the per person admission. He looked at me like I was crazy. I guess there hadn’t been this notorious of a dig this close to civilization before. They weren’t used to the idea of making money.

  I also suggested he get plans for a VIP tour of the actual site as that would occur whether we wanted it to or not. We might as well get out in front of it. I had an idea on that point.

  It would be a wonderful outing for Prince Charles's class. Of course, we would have the press there. I was going with my instincts on this. There was no real reason to want all the publicity but it seemed like a good idea.

  I left there thinking I had done all the damage I could. When I got into Oxford I made a long-distance call to the British Embassy in Madrid. My business with them was still being talked about so the Ambassador took my call.

  He updated me on the news in Spain. It seems the chief of pólice and others in Granda had been arrested on numerous charges, fraud, embezzlement, and tax evasión among other charges.

  The Embassy was in good standing for its part in bringing these guys down. It appeared the Franco government had been after them for some time and this was what they needed to nail them.

  He then asked me what my call was about. I explained that I had concerns about my sole ownership of the Spanish ranch and thought that I could use some local partners.

  Did he have any suggestions? Oh boy, did he. It seems Her Majesty's government could make a lot of political capital from this. We talked about possibilities for a while.

  The result was that several very high profile officials were going to be asked to buy a truck stop and associated facilities at the intersection of 44 and 902.

  They would own it outright. They would rent the land that it was sitting on from my ranch at a very favorable rate, this to be determined later.

  He gave me a list of potential buyers, most meant nothing to me, except one jumped out. El Colonel Frade an Argentinian that was allowed to own land in Spain through his wife.

  Could it be? In the hope that it was, I asked that he be included. It was too choice to pass up.

  I then called Jim Wallace and let him know what I had set in train. He was a little grumpy. I realized that I had caught him opening the office in California and he hadn’t any coffee yet. I apologized and he forgave me because I kept things interesting. That was without me even bringing the good Colonel up. He did not need to know that story.

  After that, I called Spain once more. This time to the Jackson House Estancia letting Mrs. Echiveria know what was going on. She was still to make contact with a builder as we would be presenting the buyers with a completed truck stop.

  She told me that things were already changing for the better at the ranch. Bills that ha
d been behind now caught up. That was better than taking out an advertisement in the newspaper.

  She was getting all sorts of phone calls from friends, family, and busybodies. They all wanted to know if it was true that a famous short American actor had bought the ranch.

  She giggled when she used the word short.

  I didn’t think it funny at all but saw where it had come from. Her only problem was the fourteen-year-old diva that had taken over her daughter's body.

  I was glad I was in England right now.

  While I was on a phone calling spree I called home in the US and talked to Mum. Dad was at his office and the kids were in school.

  I told her about my visit to Spain and the outcome. She thought I had handled it well. She made one comment that I found cryptic.

  “Next you will hear from the Bishop. Maybe even a Cardinal.”

  I didn’t understand what she was driving at so let it go.

  It seemed Mary’s business was going like crazy. All Mary was doing was being a front person. She would appear in one of her outfits and be cute like only Mary could. The clothing Company would do the rest.

  All she cared about was how many puppies were being fed. There were a lot of puppies in pounds all over the world.

  The clothing Company had already grabbed the idea of having girls of all ethnicities around the world appear in Mary’s collection. It was the ‘Mary, Mary collection’ but that was too much to say.

  They thought if they used enough different girls around the world Mary could become the Time Magazine person of the year, maybe even get invited to the UN and after that the Noble Peace Prize. I think the publicity people were smoking something illegal.

  Mum agreed. She was seriously thinking about reducing Mary’s public appearances. She had to have time to be a little girl.

  I made the mistake of asking when was she ever a little girl. This was Mum’s baby we were talking about. My ears were burning by the time she was done.

  After calling me a typical teenage brat she let me off the hook and agreed that Mary had always acted beyond her age. She even relented and told me how she caught Mary out having a pair of high heels made in girls size six with four-inch heels.