IN THE SHADOW OF STRANGERS: A wealthy man is about to change her destiny …but it’s a secret.

by Wendy Reakes

  The terrace held a wooden table and four chairs and some randomly placed exotic plants. In the corner, on its own, looking out over the gorge Jack’s home-made rocking chair sat pride of place. He wasn’t a ‘rocking-chair’ kind of guy, but his parents had given him two and he didn’t have the heart to throw them out. Instead he’d fashioned them into one single chair by breaking them up and piecing them together again with leather twine. On it, two old cushions padded the seat and the spindled back, giving it a whole hillbilly appeal. It was Jack’s prized possession and each night he sat in it with Max at his feet and a whiskey in his hand, watching his view.

  He stopped. It was gone! His chair! It was gone! “Where’s my chair?” he shouted.

  “I gave it to old Joe,” Penny called back.

  He rushed back into the sitting room. “You gave my chair to the rag-and-bone-man!?”

  “Well, you know, Jack, even he was having doubts about it. I had to pay him a bit extra to take it. He said it’ll do for firewood, bless him.”

  Jack bolted for the door, just as Penny began clearing the dishes, singing, ‘What a difference a day makes, twenty-four little hours…”

  Eight-minutes later, Jack’s car pulled up outside Joe’s yard. He had known Joe for a few years now. He was a strange old fella. Jack guessed he must be seventy or eighty. It was hard to tell. He’d enjoyed many a long conversation with the old boy at times, especially when Joe recounted the old days and tales of Bristol. ‘When it was a jewel of a city,’ he always said.

  Old Joe’s yard was a piece of private land between two sets of terrace houses. It was a cobbled space with tall wrought iron gates protecting Joe, and his possessions, from the harsh, modern world outside. Joe’s brother had once lived in the house next door and when he died Joe had been bequeathed the yard while Joe’s sister-in-law kept the house. ‘That was thirty-years back,’ he’d told Jack once. He’d fabricated a makeshift house against the back wall, from materials he’d collected from rich people’s homes. That was the beginning of his ‘little side-line’. He collected anything people wanted to throw out, sold it on, and no doubt made a fortune in the process.

  Jack took hold of the bars on the huge gate and called into the darkness. “Joe, it’s me. Jack! Are you there?”

  A light went on. “Wos all the fuss?” Old Joe shouted as he approached the gates. His horse was at the side of the yard kept warm by two sacks over his back.

  “It’s just me, Jack Taylor from up Clifton way.” Jack held onto the gate as Joe began to unlock the many padlocks. “Don’t worry about that Joe. I don’t want to come in. I just want to know if you’ve got my old chair.”

  “I ‘av sur,” he said. “Your missus told me you din’t want it.”

  Thank god. “You haven’t smashed it up or anything?”

  “No sur, gud chair that. I was gon’ta ‘ave it for meself, outside me 'ouse.”

  Jack took out his wallet from his back pocket and handed him a twenty. “Sorry, Joe but there’s been a mistake. Can you bring it back tomorrow?”

  “Yes sur, but I dun’t want all that,” Joe said, handing the note back. “A pund will do.”

  Jack got into his car and headed back. Driving through the back streets of Bristol, avoiding the main drag, he thought about Penny. He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen what she was like before he married her. She was selfish and spoilt and now she wanted to go to go work abroad. Where had it all gone wrong?

  Jack went straight to Pete’s. He took a seat and wished he’d brought Max with him. He ordered a ‘Pete’s portion’ of ham, egg and chips and waited with a mug of tea in hand, gazing through the large front windows. He was slumped against the back of the chair with his elbow leaning on the table supporting his chin. He was tired, he needed to get some sleep.

  He thought about Katherine. He thought about her a lot before he’d met Penny and he had to confess to being a little in love with her. But that was crazy? They’d only met once and he’d been younger then. That was before his accident, before he got the scar and the beard. A lot had happened since then. He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his cheek.

  The only reason he was thinking about her now was because of the incident that happened today. The rest of the time he did everything he could to put her right out of his mind. This morning, however, he saw an invoice on his desk at the depot in Gloucester; an invoice with red ink scrawled all over it. Kathy’s it stated in typed print. Kathy’s, Ealing.

  He picked it up and read the remarks scribbled on the front. Payment outstanding Proprietor claims goods not delivered. Jack looked down the page to the bottom. Not received, please amend your records, Katherine had scrawled in red ink. And then she’d signed it. He’d scanned the content. Job: Bordeaux to London, and the date: January 4th 1994.

  Jack was unaware his firm did work for Katherine, but the biggest puzzle of all was the amount of wine that had been shipped. Two-hundred-and-fifty cases in total. Jack did the math. It took him just a second to work out it amounted to three-thousand bottles and just another second to deduce there was no way a restaurant like Kathy’s was going to go through that amount in one year.

  Puzzled, Jack sounded the intercom. “Get me every invoice from Kathy’s in Ealing. Every invoice.”

  Chapter 50

  It was eleven o’clock, Saturday morning when she got back to Kathy’s. She’d left Manchester early, leaving Ben to go and see his father, Lance, while she travelled back alone.

  She was worried about Ben, worried about what was going on in that head of his. He’d never told her why he’d needed all that money from Lance two-years ago, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t thought about it a lot, since. He’d said it was for an investment and that he knew exactly what he was doing and that she should stay out of his affairs. He’d been dealing with his own finances long before she came along, he’d shouted.

  She never asked him again. Besides, what did she know? There she was with four new restaurants and massively in debt. She should have listened to her better judgment when she told herself she’d never turn those sites into profitable businesses. Whatever Ben had been going through, whatever he needed that money for, it was she who needed financial help now.

  She rubbed her hand across her face under her eyes. She was tired. She knew she was letting everything get on top of her. She needed a break. Maybe Ben would think about taking a small holiday with her. But how could they with everything going on and so much at stake?

  Ben! They hadn’t made love for months. Perhaps that was the reason Ben was so pensive, so touchy. Maybe he felt the same way about their marriage as she did. Not working!

  Peter Blue was talking on the phone behind the counter when she walked from the kitchen to the restaurant. Then, as she came into view, she startled him and he quickly put the phone down. “Katherine!” He shifted uncomfortable on his feet. “I wasn’t expecting you back. It’s Saturday! I thought you’d be staying up north for the weekend.”

  She looked towards the phone on the wall to the side of the bar. “You know, Peter, you don’t have to worry if you’re taking private calls. I don’t mind.”

  “What? Oh, that!” he said, nodding towards the phone. “No, well, actually…It wasn’t a personal call…It was our wine suppliers to say they were delivering this morning.”

  “Today? It’s Saturday!” she teased.

  “Uh, yes well, they should have delivered last night but they, um…didn’t,” he said.

  She couldn’t help wondering what he was so worried about. “I’ll give them a call and have a word with them,” she said, testing his reaction.

  “No, don’t do that. Don’t worry…it’s not a problem.”

  “But you look upset if you don’t mind me saying. You look a little on edge!”

  “No, it’s not that.” He shrugged. “I was just worried they’d come during the lunch time session and I wouldn’t be able to take the delivery in.”

  “Well, I’m here now so I can cover for you.” She
pulled the coffee pot from the stand and poured some black coffee into the mug she kept under the counter. “Or, I could take it in myself.”

  “No. I’ll take it in. It’ll be too heavy for you.”

  “You’re right, Peter. You see to it.” She poured a dash of milk into the cup and stirred. And as she sipped on her coffee she watched Peter move around the restaurant.

  “Table eight is booked for lunch!” he called. His back was turned to her as he polished the cutlery to put on the table.

  “That’s great, Peter.”

  At midday, a delivery man opened the front door with an invoice in his outstretched hand. Peter made a beeline for him. “Why are you coming through the front door? Can’t you see we’re open?”

  “Keep your hair on mate, you ‘aint got no customers in, ‘ave you?” the driver said. “I’ve got a wine shipment in the back. Where do you want it?”

  Katherine walked up behind them and made Peter jump. “It’s okay,” she said, addressing the driver “You can just bring it through the front. As you say, there’s no one in yet.”

  “In ‘ere! You’ve got to be joking, love.” He looked down at the invoice in his hand. “I’ve got seventy-five cases of burgundy in the back; you aint going to get them in ‘ere.”

  She took the invoice from him. “Seventy-five cases of burgundy? I think you’re the one who’s joking, love. We only sell a dozen bottles of burgundy a week, so it can’t be for us.” She scans the document in her hand. “There’s been a mistake. I’m not taking it.” She hands it back to him.

  “Listen, love. I ain’t taking this lot back. My boss will play ‘ell with me.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she said, walking towards the phone at the back. “What’s your boss’s name?”

  “Jack Taylor. It’s the Gloucester number at the top.”

  She picked up the phone and got straight through to Jack Taylor. “My name’s Katherine Killa. I’ve got one of your drivers here, who says he’s got seventy-five cases of burgundy for me, and now he’s refusing to take it back. What are you going to do about it?” There was a pause at the other end. “Hello! Are you there?”

  “Uh, yes…Yes, I’m here,” the voice said. “Are you saying you didn’t order the wine?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “I see. But you’ve ordered wine in vast quantities before, have you not?”

  “Of course not! Kathy’s is just small restaurant, Mr. Taylor. We don’t have room to store seventy-five cases, let alone sell them.”

  “Don’t worry. You can tell the driver to bring the delivery back here. Tell Colin, I said so,” he said.

  “Thank you! But before you go…” There’s another pause. “Are you there?” She heard a muffled noise in the background and as far as she could tell he was still on the line. “Have you got a depot in Swansea?” There was another pause. He was really starting to bug her.

  “Yes, we have,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

  “I recognise the name of the company on the invoice. I used your firm once to transport a piece of furniture from Swansea and the girl on the front desk was very accommodating. It’s a shame that same courtesy can’t be extended to your drivers.” She cringed at her hoity-toity attitude but the whole matter had gotten her all riled up.

  “Katherine!” Jack Taylor said suddenly.

  She stopped speaking. Hearing his voice say her name made her feel…She couldn’t describe it…Seduced! A tingle went up the back of her neck. It wasn’t a feeling she recognised.

  He spoke again. “I don’t know what side of the bed you got out of this morning, but if you don’t mind me saying…you could do with relaxing a little.” And then he hung up.

  She stood with the phone to her ear. The droning noise of the engaged signal told me he was no longer there. Then…oddly, she found herself wondering what Jack Taylor looked like.

  She replaced the receiver and turned to the delivery man. “You can go. Your boss said it’s all right to take the wine back.”

  “Sign ‘ere then, love.”

  Chapter 51

  Jack replacedthe receiver and put his elbows on the desk. He rubbed his face with his large hands and picked up the manila folder from the side of his desk. Kathy’s, Ealing, it said on the front. Inside were sixteen invoices stacked in a neat pile, with a post-it on the top, stuck to the most recent. Jack had scribbled his calculation of 4000 cases of wine from all regions of France over a course of two-years.

  He’d found out a week ago about the fraud. The initial invoice dated January 4th 1987, had started everything. It turned out his accounts department had put the wrong address on it, so it hadn’t gone directly to Katherine’s accountant like the others. Katherine must have opened it, rejected it and then sent it back. After that, and after he’d accumulated all the invoices over the past two-years or more, it hadn’t taken an idiot to realise there was some sort of scam going on.

  He decided not to report it to the police immediately. There was no doubt in his mind that Katherine wasn’t involved, but he needed proof. He instructed his people to inform him of any future requests coming through for deliveries to Kathy’s, and then, just four days ago, when they received a shipment order from someone who claimed to be the manager, Jack put his plan in motion.

  It was simple really. He noticed the old invoices specified Sunday night deliveries, so he simply changed the specifications to a day drop. On Friday, when Colin rang in to say he was at Dover, Jack told him to take a night out and that he should deliver the load to Ealing the following morning. Saturday! After that he just had to keep his fingers crossed that Katherine was going to be there to see the delivery come in.

  Jack hadn’t expected her to ring. When he heard her voice it threw him for a moment. He didn’t know if he was happy she was reporting the delivery or happy because it was her on the other side of the receiver, talking to him. He had to admit he felt like an idiot, stumbling over his words like that. He sounded like a love-sick kid. God knew what she must have thought of him.

  Jack shook his head and picked up the receiver one more time. He stopped for a moment, thinking about what he was going to say, and then he dialled 999.

  Chapter 52

  Ben arrivedback from Manchester the moment she finished the lunch time session. “I need to talk,” he said.

  “So do I,”

  As Peter Blue cashed up the till, they both went upstairs to the flat. Katherine switched on the kettle. She was deep in thought as Ben took off his jacket and threw it over the chair.

  “Ben,” she said coming out of the kitchen. “There’s something going on.”

  “What do you mean?” He looked like a little boy getting caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

  “It’s Peter Blue. I think he’s up to something.” She watched Ben pick up yesterday’s newspaper from the coffee table. “We had a strange delivery of wine today…and I think it’s got something to do with Peter.” She paused for a moment, thinking it through. “Ben, I think Peter’s doing some sort of fiddle.”

  “Some sort of fiddle?” Ben repeated.

  “Yes, but don’t ask me how. I just know something’s not quite right.”

  “What are you talking about? Peter’s all right. He’s not bent. Not in the legal sense, anyhow.

  She explained about the wine and how Peter Blue had seemed on edge the whole time. “I’ve suddenly just realised something else, too…There was something strange about the call I made to the driver's boss. I think his name was Jack Taylor.” She didn’t know why she’d just said that. She knew exactly what his name was. Ben was waiting for her to continue. “There was something missing from the conversation I had with him, and I’ve suddenly realized what it was. It was a distinct lack of questions.” She became excited at her sleuth-like reasoning. She sits on the arm of the sofa. “I only gave him my name…I didn’t tell him the name of the restaurant…and I didn’t quote an invoice number. So how is it possible that such a large
firm could know all those details without checking first? Like the name of the driver,” she said. “Jack Taylor knew his name was Colin. Surely he’d have to look that up. They must have tons of drivers.” She stopped. Ben hadn’t said a word. He was just silently watching her.

  “Hang on a minute!” Another thought struck her. She stood up and paced between the kitchen door and the sofa as she recalled the details. “I found an invoice a couple of months ago, dated January 4th 1987. I remembered the date, because that was my birthday. I thought I’d received it by accident. It had our accountant, Paddy Johnson’s name on the top with our address in Ealing. The invoice said we had one-hundred-and-forty-five cases of wine in December. Naturally, I thought it was a mistake. I remember scribbling on it in red ink and then I sent it back to the transport company…Damn! I should have kept a copy!” She paused again. “Come to think of it…it was the same company as the one who tried delivering today,” She swung around to look at Ben. “Perhaps that Jack Taylor has got something to do with all of this.”

  “You’re letting your imagination run away with you, Kath. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for everything.”

  “No, I’m not wrong,” she said confidently. “And I’m going to have to get to the bottom of it.”

  Ben put down the paper and stood up. “There’s no need for that, I’ll do it. I deal with this sort of thing all the time at the Corner. I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  I confronted him and stood my ground. “What the hell do you take me for?” she snapped. “This is my business. I recruited Peter. If he’s up to something, I can clean up my own mess.”

  Ben seemed surprised by her ferocity. “Katherine, let me help you on this. You’re always trying to shut me out. You never let me do anything for you.”