Picking up her phone, she speed dialled Jemima and waited for here to see who was calling and pick up.
“Yes.” A flat; bored tone that had more than a hint of insolence straining through.
“It’s Felicity.”
“I know, I read your name on the screen of my phone.”
This wasn’t how their normal conversations developed. Time for assertion.
“What on earth are you doing in that one horse town? I mean, how difficult can it be to discover what middle-aged priest and his pet cripple are doing. We have a number of facets to our business, some more sensitive than others.”
Jemima interrupted.
“Yes. Drugs, cocaine. Would that be the sensitive bit? Was that a facet of our family business that no-one felt I needed to be aware of? The Cortez marching powder? Reassure me that our South American operation is run with professionalism and not by drug crazed uncles. Can you do that for me Felicity?”
Felicity took a deep breath and said,
“You’re right. You do need to know more about our business, but not over a mobile telephone. Meet me tomorrow, I’ll come down to Salisbury, I understand you’re lunching with Freddie. Would that be acceptable?”
The silence carried on for thirty seconds before Jemima said,
“Okay, but you will need to be very convincing.”
Felicity eased herself into a chair and fought to avert the panic rising in her chest. This might be tricky and just at the wrong moment. She had, only hours earlier, tripled her usual order from Pablo. Six tonnes of Colombian pure was a tricky thing to hide. Not impossible, that was going to be for Alexander to organise, but tricky. Now she had to pacify and control an irate sibling who was consorting with the enemy. Grandfather and his vicious spook were going to have to earn their part of the bargain. Walking to the balcony overlooking St Paul’s and the city she lit a cigarette and concentrated. Come on you old goat, Felicity needs you.
***
The bookshop was empty and closed. The lights turned off apart from two above the area in which they were sitting. The blinds had been lowered. Jemima sat opposite Ben on a sofa adjacent to the coffee counter in the bookshop. Her expression was serious and business like. Ben stared at her with a half smile on his lips unsure how he should react. Jemima had left a message with Debbie that she needed to see him and she needed to see him as soon as possible. He had called her and suggested a drink, but she had insisted they meet at the bookshop as what she wanted to talk to him about required complete privacy.
“Thank you for trusting me.” she said, picking her teacup up and sipping at the hot drink. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days.”
Jemima took another sip of tea and then a deep long breath that she blew out through pursed lips before continuing.
“Telling you about my life when we were in the Digby Tap and afterwards at dinner was cathartic. I have never revealed any of that to anyone before. There is a vast store of crap that I could recount to you and one day perhaps I will. For now, I need to tell you a little about your Uncle Jonas.”
“Uncle Jonas? What could you know about him? He died before either of us was born. Dad was convinced it wasn’t natural causes that killed him.” Jemima stopped Ben with a raised hand, a sad expression on her face. He looked quizzical but said nothing.
“Ernest was right, he was murdered, by my grandfather. Your uncle had a history of heart problems that had first been uncovered by the company medical, ironic. Cocaine in large quantities and a heart problem will kill you. QED he was poisoned with medical quality cocaine. Your father was killed in the same fashion. I’m sorry Ben, I really am.”
Ben stared at her without speaking. The tears flowing over his cheeks and onto his shirt showed her that he believed everything she had said. Jemima stood and came around to Ben’s side of the low table, sat beside him and enveloped him in her arms. Ben’s body was racked with sobbing as Jemima stroked his hair and held him, letting him vent his grief. He gained control of his emotions, disentangling himself from her arms and wiping his tear sodden face on his sleeve.
“Your grandfather killed my uncle and father. Your sister is trying to protect his memory while threatening to exterminate the remainder of the Sanderson clan and then there’s you. Why Jemima? Why? You’re a Cortez, I’m a Sanderson. Is this a modern day version of the Capulet’s and Montague’s?”
Ben stood and walked behind the counter making a cup of Darjeeling for Jemima and then on impulse made the same for himself. Jemima watched him unsure how to respond. She knew she had feelings for him that she had never imagined would be possible with a man.
“What do you want me to say?” she said, “I’ve finished with my family. All of them. Felicity, Uncle Alexander, Daddy, all of them. Well, all of them apart from Uncle Freddie.”
“Uncle Freddie?” he said, interrupting. “Why not Uncle Freddie?”
“How could a man of the cloth, a bishop for heaven’s sake be involved with the rest of them? Freddie’s a sweetie.”
Ben choked on his tea sputtering into a handkerchief for a few moments until he managed to catch his breath.
“Frederic Aldhelm, Bishop of Salisbury is Uncle Freddie?”
Jemima nodded, “He took the name of Saint Aldhelm, who began building Sherborne Abbey. He decided large industry, wouldn’t help his application to the church. The choice of surname proved appropriate as he served at Sherborne abbey for a few years.”
“William will never believe this, nor will Annabel.” Grinning he reached into his pocket and pulled out his iPhone and started to dial Williams number.
“Can that wait?” Jemima asked, “There’s something I need to do.”
“What?” Ben asked still looking at the phone.
Jemima stood up, walked across to the light switches and dimmed the lights to a warm glow. She returned to the sofa, stood in front of Ben, reached down and pulled her light cashmere jumper over her head reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the ground and said with a shy smile,
“You.”
Chapter 27
Annabel put her iPhone on the table in William’s dining room and sat ashen faced staring into space.
“Who was that on the phone?” William asked as he struggled into the room laden down with a breakfast tray and coffee. Putting the tray and the cafetière onto the dining table, he looked at her puzzled that he hadn’t had a response to his question.
“Annabel?”
Annabel looked up, back from inside herself, and said, “Oh sorry, Ben. He had a long talk with Jemima last night.”
“Annabel, what did he say?” William noticed how pale she was and disorientated. He put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Let’s have coffee first.”
As he poured, Annabel continued to stare at the wall ahead of her. He set the coffee mugs down on the table, sat down opposite her and took a tentative sip.
“Wonderful. So Ben; what did he have for us?”
Annabel had a sip of coffee, massaged her temples and then said,
“Jemima said that Jonas was killed by her grandfather Charles, or at least on his orders. Ernest was killed on the orders of Felicity. She’s sure she can get proof of how they were killed if we can give her a day or two. Ben seems to be okay about the news. He sounded quite chirpy.”
William looked stunned, “So it was murder.”
Annabel smiled and then her face becomes serious again, “That news, I’m afraid, isn’t the worse of it. Uncle Freddie isn’t just my Uncle. It seems Uncle Freddie is also Uncle Freddie to Felicity and Jemima Cortez.
William looked at her confused, not understanding the connection between Freddie and the Cortez’s.
“How? He’s your uncle because Georgia was your dad’s sister. So that’s his relationship to you. So is the ‘Uncle’ moniker honorary? Or is he a blood relation to the Cortez’s?”
“Blood relation. Brother to Alexander and James, son of Charles. When he
decided to follow his vocation into the church he took a name that he considered to be less controversial. All records linking him to the Cortez family were expunged. Close family knew, but other than that he has always been Freddie Aldhelm.”
William considered this for a moment before looking up at Annabel with an odd expression on his face.
“So your father must have known and he hasn’t mentioned it to you. Even when you became a priest.” William looked at her not sure what he should be thinking. “He didn’t mention it did he, even I passing?”
Annabel shook her head, “Not that I remember. Why would he mention it? As a family we knew nothing about the name Cortez, the petrochemical industry or Uncle Freddie’s secret identity. I’ll ask Dad about Freddie and see what he says. I imagine it just didn’t occur to him that it would be of interest to anyone.”
William nodded in agreement. “He might be able to give you some background on Freddie and the Cortez family. Also, we need to think about why Freddie would be quite this keen to keep his ancestry to himself. Before I came to Dorset to administer my bequest I had dinner with Freddie to request a sabbatical. While we were going to the library for coffee and whisky, he received a phone call. Are you going to ask me from whom?”
Annabel smiled, her mood lifting, ”From whom?”
“I’m glad you asked, a person called Felicity. At the time I didn’t think anything of it, but now…also, and this is strange, Felicity seemed very confused as to why I was the beneficiary. She doesn’t know that Ernest was my father. I can’t remember if I mentioned it to Freddie, but even if I didn’t; all he would have to do is ask me and I’d tell him. Or I would have done.”
***
Jemima’s timing in her call to Gerald Thrasher was fortuitous. She didn’t know him well and had only spoken to him half a dozen times in the course of five years. So she was surprised when he greeted her with far more exuberance than she would have expected from even a close friend. He seemed energised and excited by something, unable to concentrate on what she was saying. She managed to get him to focus and talk to her for a moment.
“Gerald, are you okay? It’s Jemima, Felicities sister.”
He responded not concentrating on what she was saying.
“Hi Jemima, yes I’m fine just had some good news that might placate Felicity for a few hours. How can I help?”
“Felicities Colombian contact, she asked me to call him, but I can’t find the details she gave me. If I tell Felicity, you know what that will cause. So I was hoping you had a name and number and would help me out.”
Jemima heard Thrasher muttering to himself. At last he said,
“His name is Pablo, I’ll get Siobhan to text his number to you in a moment. Be cautious with him. Any dealings I’ve ever had with him have left me feeling, erm, dirty. Now we are his European partner, I’m hoping the man will save his enmity for the Serbs, Russians and Italians. Can I ask you a question?”
Jemima considered this; thinking back to moments before when she had heard sounds that one shouldn’t hear emanating from your solicitors office. What the hell.
“Sure.”
“I don’t know whether I should be asking this, but I need to know. Do you like your sister? No, that’s not right. Deeper. What feelings do you have for your sister?”
Without hesitation or taking the time to consider the consequences she answered,
“I hate her. Her reason for being is to make me as miserable as possible. I loathe her. Why?”
***
The conversation between Thrasher and Jemima had finished and they were left watching Thrasher reading something on his computer screen.
“Shall we?” said Ernest indicating upwards. Ernest continued.
“Once again, Jemima’s behaviour has been impeccable. She has managed to prove that the Cortez clan had Jonas killed using cocaine, their own cocaine. She followed this up with a brilliant excuse to Thrasher getting her the information she needs and she appears to have feelings, big deep feelings for my son. Impressive, he could do worse.”
“How?” Juanita asked. Continuing, she said,
“How could Ben do worse than a woman who is related to Felicity Cortez, Alexander Cortez and Charles Cortez? She’s proven, that her own family killed your brother, Ben’s uncle, in cold blood; because they felt threatened by him. She is in Sherborne as an emissary of Felicity to gather information on William, Annabel and Ben. The fact that she has managed to pull the wool over Ben and your eyes doesn’t change the fact that she is dangerous.”
Ernest looked amused at her outburst,
“Has she no redeeming features? If she were to share the proof of Jonas’s death with William and Ben. Would that soften your animosity? Could we not be more effectively employed watching and listening in on someone else? Felicity or Alexander?” Juanita stared at him stunned. How was she to explain the danger they faced?
“Basta! Ernest why do you let your heart rule your head so much of the time? You are an intelligent man who has been investigating these murderers. They are brutal, violent people. The violence they cloak with a veneer of respectability, but it still exists. The Cortez family has already killed both you and your brother because you had both got too close to what we now know is their involvement in the cocaine business. They are exceptional people or otherwise how could they have continued for so long and still be unscathed? She is a Cortez. A less well informed Cortez, yes. Please remember she is still a Cortez. Until I see irrefutable evidence that she has abandoned her family, I will continue to treat her with the same caution I would use with a rabid dog.”
***
Wooster barked at Annabel as she climbed into the car William had bought from a local car dealer with some of the money he had been left by Ernest. He leant over and kissed her on the lips, smiled and said,
“I thought we needed a day off. Some time for us that didn’t involve Ernest, his spook or Felicity. So we are off to Bath. A beautiful spa city with some great restaurants for an intimate lunch.”
Annabel looked down at her watch and back up at William,
“Why are we leaving at six thirty for what is only at most and journey of ninety minutes? What will be open at eight o’clock?”
William smiled and patted her knee,
“I thought a restorative breakfast in Wells and the chance to wander around the cathedral and enjoy the morning service would be a nice way to start the day. We just need to go the bookshop so I can leave Ben my laptop, he wants to install some type of security on it, and then off we go. Does that sound acceptable?”
Annabel studied him, looking at his cherubic features. With a smile she acquiesced and said,
“Wonderful.”
At the shop William silenced the alarm, trotted up to the office and left his laptop for Ben with a scribbled note and left again. He realised he’d not set the alarm as they drove onto the A303 and texted Ben to apologise. By then it was too late. His hard drive had been copied, the letter from Ernest photographed and everything was now waiting in the inbox of Gerald Thrasher. Ben arriving at the shop early had disturbed the Ladrones brothers, so they hadn’t found the safe or any of the source documentation Ernest had accumulated. If they had realised that they had only found the tip of the iceberg they might have been less smug when they emailed Gerald Thrasher later that morning.
***
Jemima walked into the busy bookshop still debating her options in her head. She had planned to go straight up and see Ben and present to him the evidence of his Uncle’s death. Walking to the book shop, looping through all the conversations in her mind, she recognised that her time to make one of those big, life changing decisions had arrived.
Felicity had been the catalyst. When she had asked about the family involvement in drugs all Felicity had needed to do was to say no, no involvement, don’t be so stupid, and concentrate on finding out why Bacchus is still hassling us. Simple. Instead her ‘You’re right. You do need to know more about our business, but not over a
mobile telephone. Meet me tomorrow.’ had confirmed everything that she had suspected. That sentence had explained why Ernest Sanderson had been determined to ruin the Cortez family and why Jonas Sanderson had been killed. It couldn’t be simpler. She was finished with her family for good.
Jemima sat down on one of the Chesterfield chairs in the centre of the bookshop and ordered a Darjeeling tea from Debbie.
“He’s upstairs in the office, I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Don’t worry. Leave him for a while. I’ll go up after my tea.”
She sipped the hot tea and wondered how she was going to broach the subject with Felicity. It appeared that she would be seeing her at Freddie’s tomorrow, which she could use to engineer a blazing row and flounce out or maybe by telephone, which would give Felicity less opportunity to defend her actions and turn the argument. She’d ask Ben how he would approach it.
Finishing her tea she asked Debbie for another and one for Ben and went upstairs. The butterflies of anticipation in her stomach caused a rueful grin as she pushed open the office door and crept up behind Ben. She leaned in a kissed his neck causing his face, reflected in the computer screen, to break into a wide grin.
“Hi” Ben said
“Hi” Jemima replied, “Ben, I’ve brought you three things. Tea, information and a problem.”
She passed him the tea with two hands, as if she was performing a Japanese tea ceremony in the office for him. Smiling, he took the tea and cocked his head.
“What would you like next?” she asked, “Information, or the problem?”
Ben looked unsure, “Information?”
“Good choice. Information. Do you remember when we were last here in the book shop?”
Ben smiled,
Bacchus and Sanderson (Deceased) Page 20
