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Summer Madness

Page 30

by Susan Lewis


  ‘So, I gave up my flat in Barnet and moved down here. By then I’d met Jake a few more times, I liked him, trusted him and believed the story he gave me. He said that when Consuela’s husband died he’d left her penniless. It wasn’t that the old man didn’t have any money, it was just that he hadn’t left it to Consuela. Jake didn’t say why Consuela was cut out of the will and I didn’t ask. However, she was bequeathed the villa on the Cap, but with no money to pay for its upkeep and the running of it, she turned the stables into a bathhouse and set herself up in this blackmail racket.’

  He paused, pressed his fingers to his tired eyes then returned his hand to hers. ‘According to Jake she’d been doing it for about a year before Peter came along,’ he continued. ‘I can’t remember when Jake said he found out about it, but when he did he started making it his business to get the boys out of France and either safely back to their families or over to the States, where his father uses his influence to get them set-up there. Why are you smiling?’

  ‘No reason,’ Sarah answered, thinking of how Louisa was going to love this part of the story. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, according to Jake, there was one thing he couldn’t do and that was get his hands on the videos before they were used for blackmail.’

  ‘But why would he want to?’

  ‘To stop it from happening, or so he claims. So, he struck a bargain with Consuela. In return for something he’s never told me about, he would take the videos to the women concerned, or their husbands, and make himself responsible for collecting the money. And as far as I know that’s exactly what he does.’

  ‘You mean he’s also the one who hands the videos over just for the hell of it?’ Sarah said, her admiration for Jake suddenly teetering on the edge of repugnance.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Morandi sighed. ‘I wish I did. All I know is that the blackmail is still going on, that money in quantities like I’ve never seen before is changing hands all the time and that I wish to God I’d never got involved.’

  ‘You still haven’t told me exactly how you did,’ Sarah reminded him.

  ‘Jake got me to masquerade as an Italian, someone who had connections with the Mafia because that would impress Consuela and make her more inclined to trust me, and go to her offering my services as a producer. I’m pretty sure she had me checked out, but Jake took care of that, don’t ask me how because I don’t know, but I can only assume he was able to do it because he does have Mafia connections. Anyway, she hired me and now I go in, set up the cameras, collect them the next day and then I edit them together.’

  ‘But you still don’t really know which of them is behind it?’

  ‘On the face of it it’s Consuela, but the truth is, Sarah, I don’t know whether I’ve been taken for one hell of a ride here, because if Jake really is trying to frame Consuela for blackmail, which is what he claims he’s doing, then he’s got more than enough evidence now. I know, because I’m the one who keeps the records, who logs all the dates, all the transactions, everything, so why doesn’t he just hand it and her over to the police and let us all get on with our lives?’

  Since it was a rhetorical question Sarah merely squeezed his hands and settled herself more comfortably in the clutter of burnt papers, melted videos and heat-buckled film cans.

  ‘Is it,’ he asked himself aloud, ‘because he’s the one who set up the bathhouse? Is he the one who’s profiting from this loathsome extortion? Consuela says he is. She won’t tell me what he’s holding over her to make her go along with it, but according to her he’s behind everything. She says he was the one who set up the bathhouse, that he’s the one who hires the boys, brings in the rich women and collects the money. But there are so many lies, I just can’t keep track of them any more.’

  ‘Have you ever considered going to the police and letting them sort it out?’

  ‘All the time. But how can I when Jake knows where Peter is, where my whole family is? Not that he’s ever threatened anything, but I just don’t want to take the risk.’

  ‘Does that mean, in your heart, you really do think Jake is behind it?’

  ‘God knows,’ he sighed. ‘For all I know they’re in it together.’

  ‘But let’s just say for a moment that it was Consuela who started it. What do you think it was that Jake used to bargain with her to get her to let him in on it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well he can’t just have sailed in out of the blue and said OK, let’s go fifty-fifty, can he? Not if she had it all set up very nicely for herself already. Why would she need him? So my question is, what does he have over her that would persuade her to let him in on it?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. He’s never said.’

  ‘This might be totally off the wall, but you don’t suppose it might have something to do with his wife, do you?’

  Morandi frowned. ‘I didn’t even know he was married.’

  ‘Consuela told Danny he was.’

  Morandi shook his head. ‘I don’t know anything about that. All I know about is the unholy mess I’ve managed to get myself in and I just can’t see a way out of it.’

  Sarah thought for a moment. ‘What about Mexico?’ she said. ‘Where does that fit in?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t ask because I know more than I want to know already.’

  ‘But it could have something to do with the remote places where the boys are held prisoner after being confronted with Hobson’s choice?’ she suggested.

  ‘Yes, it could, I suppose, I’ve never really thought about it. But to be honest, Sarah, I don’t think anyone’s being held prisoner. Neither do I think anyone’s been shot. OK, I might be kidding myself here because I don’t want to believe it, but if all those boys had gone missing, don’t you think at least one of them would have been traced back to Consuela by now?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah said deflating slightly. ‘Yes, I suppose they would.’ Then realizing that meant Jake had returned to a better light she brightened again. ‘I think Consuela’s behind it,’ she said decisively. ‘I mean Jake is a massively wealthy man, so why would he need to do something like that?’

  ‘You won’t be able to ask me anything I haven’t already asked myself a thousand times,’ Morandi said despondently. ‘But neither of us is going to come up with any answers, not unless we have the full picture.’

  ‘So what’s missing?’ Sarah said, trying to piece together what she could.

  ‘I would say that what’s missing is what Jake has over Consuela or what she has over him. And that’s still assuming they’re not in it together.’

  ‘Oh God, you’re not much better as a detective’s sidekick than Louisa,’ Sarah grumbled.

  Morandi’s eyes flickered something very close to an admonishment, making Sarah realize that even after all she had heard, she was not taking this as seriously as she should. Or maybe it was because of what she had heard, it was hard to say, all she knew was that her sense of reality was once again as woefully impaired as her spirit of adventure was piqued.

  ‘Jake has made Louisa promise to stay away from Consuela,’ she said sobering herself. ‘Now why do you think that is? Do you think he’s afraid that Consuela might do something to harm her?’

  ‘He could be. Or he could be afraid that Consuela will tell Louisa what’s really going on.’

  ‘Mm,’ she grunted. ‘I hadn’t thought of it that way. I don’t think Louisa has either. Though he did say he was going to tell Louisa himself.’

  ‘Then we’ll just have to see if he does.’

  ‘What about Erik? He must know what’s really happening between Jake and Consuela, surely?’

  ‘I don’t doubt for a minute that he does, but you’ll never get him to tell you anything Jake doesn’t want him to tell.’

  ‘Then who else is there?’

  ‘No one.’

  ‘But hang on, didn’t you tell me the other day that you thought Aphrodite knew more than you? Why don’t we try asking her?’

  ‘We could
if we knew where she was. Not that I’d hold out much hope of her telling us anything, and I could be wrong, she might not know more than I do.’

  ‘But she might,’ Sarah said staring thoughtfully down at a pool of black slush in the corner. ‘Funny isn’t it?’ she said turning her eyes back to Morandi. ‘That she should have disappeared the very same day this place was wrecked. Are you sure you don’t think she might have done it?’

  ‘Why would she? Unless,’ he said answering his own question, ‘Consuela told her to.’

  ‘I thought you said Jake employed her.’

  ‘I always thought he did. But one thing I’m certain about is that Jake didn’t order this place to be burnt. He postponed his trip to Mexico because of it, now why would he have done that if he already knew it was going to happen?’

  ‘No reason I can think of,’ Sarah said. ‘So does that mean we might find Aphrodite at Consuela’s, I wonder?’

  ‘We might, who knows?’

  An hour later, while Sarah and Morandi were still ploughing through the destruction of his office there was a knock on the empty door frame and two policemen walked into the mayhem, turning up their noses at the damp, acrid smell of the place.

  Assuming that they were continuing their investigations into the burglary and arson and because Morandi was speaking to them in French Sarah didn’t pay much attention at first. But then, seeing the way Morandi’s face suddenly turned so horribly pale, she moved swiftly to his side and took his arm.

  ‘What is it?’ she said. ‘What are they saying?’

  ‘They’ve come to tell me,’ he said, sounding as haggard as he looked, ‘that Aphrodite … Aphrodite’s body has just been found …’

  18

  OUTSIDE THE AIR was soggy. Ancient American cars rumbled and clanked wearily through the streets, high-pitched sirens wailed their urgency, but inside the Los Mochis hotel room the air was crisp and cool and cut through with danger.

  Jake was sitting in a low-backed armchair, elbows resting on his knees, hands linked loosely together. His face was taut, but for the moment devoid of expression. In front of him, seated on a hard chair and flanked by two solid Mexicans was Pedro, the scrawny old man who had led Jake the last time he was there to an out of the way hotel.

  ‘You did well,’ Jake remarked to Fernando who was sitting at a round table in front of the window, his legs stretched out in front of him and one arm resting on the other as he smoked a cigarette.

  Fernando merely expelled two lungs full of smoke through his nose and followed Jake’s eyes back to Pedro whose jutting bottom jaw was quivering as he looked back at the gringo with the patch over one eye and murder in the other.

  Jake fixed him with his unshielded eye for some time, then lowered his gaze to the dingy pink carpet. ‘Where is she?’ he said, the mildness of his tone making it all the more ominous.

  ‘I don’ta know,’ Pedro answered.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I don’ta know, they don’ta tell me.’

  Jake lifted his head. ‘When did you last see her?’

  ‘Five weeks ago.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Like I say before, near Chihuahua.’

  ‘Who was she with?’

  ‘Two men, another woman and a child.’

  Fernando’s head came up and an icy fist clenched his gut when he saw Jake’s expression.

  ‘Who were these people?’ Jake said.

  ‘I don’ta know.’

  ‘How do you know it was her?’

  ‘I know her.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I have seen pictures.’

  ‘Who showed them to you?’

  ‘I don’ta know.’

  ‘Who showed them to you?’

  ‘I don’ta know.’

  Jake’s eyes flicked towards the man standing on Pedro’s right. Pedro squealed as the blow to his face brought blood spurting from his nose.

  Jake was on his feet now, his back to Pedro. ‘Who showed them to you?’ he repeated.

  ‘A man.’

  ‘What was his name?’

  ‘I don’ta know.’

  Jake turned as Pedro’s head jerked to one side under the force of the next blow. ‘His name,’ Jake demanded.

  ‘I don’ta know. Please, señor, really I don’ta know.’

  Jake nodded to the other man who picked up Pedro’s hand and wrenched his forefinger back. Pedro screamed, drowning the sickening crunch of the finger breaking.

  ‘His name,’ Jake repeated.

  ‘Juan.’

  Jake nodded at the man again.

  ‘No, no, I beg you, señor,’ Pedro sobbed as his middle finger was bent to the point of snapping. ‘His name is Juan Morales. Please no break my hand no more.’

  ‘Was this man with her when you saw her?’ Jake said.

  ‘Yes, he was there.’

  ‘Where are they now?’

  ‘I don’ta know.’

  Jake’s eyes moved back to the man.

  ‘No! No!’ Pedro screamed. ‘Really I not know. Last week they here in Los Mochis, now I not know where they are.’

  ‘You said just now you hadn’t seen them for five weeks,’ Jake reminded him.

  ‘The woman, no. The men, they were here, but she no with them.’

  ‘Where did they go?’

  ‘They no tell me.’

  All eyes were on Jake as he rested his forehead on his fist. ‘What about the child?’ he said.

  ‘I not know about the child. I just see her.’

  ‘How old is the child?’ Jake said.

  ‘Two, maybe three years old. It is hard to know with children.’

  Jake stayed silent and Fernando moved across the room to put a hand on his shoulder.

  Shrugging him off Jake looked at the other two. ‘Get him out of here,’ he said. ‘Get him out of here and make him tell you where they’ve gone.’

  As Pedro was hauled from the room Fernando moved back to the table and picked up a bottle of whisky.

  ‘The question still remains the same,’ Jake said waiting for the door to close. ‘Is Consuela paying them to lie or is Martina really alive?’

  Fernando shook his head and handing Jake a drink sat down on the chair Pedro had just vacated. ‘I don’t know, my friend,’ he said. ‘But we will find out.’

  The days since Jake had gone seemed to drag endlessly for Louisa and not knowing exactly when he would be back was only making it worse. It didn’t help either that Sarah was spending so much time with Morandi, not that she begrudged Morandi Sarah’s support for she of all people knew how unswerving and comforting it was, but she longed to discuss all that Sarah had told her in more detail. However, she just had to make do with Sarah’s rushed visits and updates on the police investigation into Aphrodite’s murder. So far they hadn’t come up with much that was new, except that the time of her death had been put before the burglary and arson so she was no longer a suspect.

  In a snatched moment with Erik Louisa had asked him about the video of Danny’s mother and whether or not they should tell Danny. Erik had been adamant that they shouldn’t say a word. They needed to find out what Consuela intended to do with it, he’d said, and telling Danny was tantamount to alerting Consuela that they were waiting for her to move.

  Nothing was making any sense any more, Louisa thought to herself as she climbed out of the pool, and she wished to God that she and Jake hadn’t argued the way they had just before he’d gone.

  Hearing a car coming up the lane she moved quickly to the sunbed to pick up a towel to cover herself. She needn’t have bothered, it was only Sarah and seeing her Louisa felt her spirits take a much needed lift.

  ‘Hi,’ she called out, waving as Sarah pulled up at the side of the house, then started to laugh as Sarah, with a disgusting amount of energy in such heat, came bounding towards her with joy oozing out of her every step. ‘No need to ask you how things are going?’ Louisa remarked as Sarah gave her a resounding kiss on each cheek.
r />   ‘They are blissful and traumatic, wonderful and problematic and I’m as excited and in love as I am laid back and phlegmatic.’

  ‘You’ve been rehearsing that,’ Louisa laughed.

  ‘How did you guess? Anyway, how are you? How’s the writing?’

  ‘Don’t ask. Are you staying long? Shall we at least have a drink together?’

  ‘Absolutely. Where’s Danny?’

  ‘Where do you think?’

  ‘With Erik,’ they chorused.

  ‘Come on,’ Louisa said, linking her arm through Sarah’s, ‘let’s crack open a bottle of that Saumur, I feel in need of something sparkly.’

  While Louisa went into the kitchen Sarah sat on the edge of the terrace, hugging her knees and allowing her mind to drift back over the past week that had been one of the most eventful and one of the happiest of her life. She and Morandi were now lovers, had become so the night they had heard of Aphrodite’s murder. It had, she supposed though she couldn’t be sure, been the last thing on either of their minds when she had collected Morandi from the police station and driven him home. He had been so exhausted and so totally worn down by all that had happened he had been more in need of sleep than anything else. But it was probably seeing him so vulnerable and so bewildered by it all that had given her the confidence to slip into the bed beside him and hold him.

  She smiled dreamily to herself as she thought about it now, of how he had apologized for becoming aroused, how he had clung to her nevertheless and tried to pretend that it would go away. It was she who had ended up making the first move, but, she guessed, it was his vulnerability and need of her that had overcome her fears for there was nothing to be ashamed of in comforting someone you cared about and at the time that’s what she’d told herself she was doing. It hadn’t taken her long, however, to realize how profoundly she was fooling herself, for any fears of a latent frigidity or a return of the sickening shame she’d felt since Colin had so cruelly belittled her, were quickly expelled by the burning heat of her desire and the compelling, primeval need to feel Morandi as close to her as it was possible for two people to get.

 

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