Her heart was being battered today but perhaps tomorrow it would be easier. She would go and sit on the peaceful terrace and look out over the narrow cove and watch the town’s evening lights grow bright against the velvet sky, and sit with her sorrow and hope that it would ease away.
Eduardo glanced at his watch. It was almost nine p.m. and there was no sign of Jutta. And her phone was going into her voice message. Something must have cropped up. Something to do with her daughter, he pondered. But it would have been good manners, and professional, to let him know that she was being delayed. All around him people were drinking and celebrating at one of the barbecue nights held in La Joya to promote friendship and good neighbourliness. Even Beatriz had joined the party and was seated, chatting to Gabriel’s wife, and sipping a dry sherry. Consuela was in intense conversation with some Dutch woman who was into the esoteric stuff she filled her head with. Eduardo, while he waited for Jutta, was being as charming as he could manage, especially to the owners who had voted him back for another year. It was part of the duties of a presidente to mix with the proprietors and be convivial on nights such as this.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a light come on up in ‘his’ penthouse. Had Jutta thought to meet him up there? He felt a flicker of nervous anticipation.
He moved away from the pool area with its twinkling party lights and scented incense sticks and flickering candles and hurried across the lawn towards the entrance to the block. He and Constanza held master keys to all the entrance halls and he slipped inside and saw that the lift was stopped on the Ático floor.
She must be waiting for him there, he thought, slightly stunned at her brazenness as he pressed the button to call the lift. She must realize there could be no repeat of their previous encounter, especially on a night such as this with his wife and Beatriz down at the pool. He straightened his hair and wiped his damp palms on his trousers and took a steadying breath before knocking on the door.
Eduardo couldn’t have been more shocked to see the Englishman from whom he’d bought the penthouse standing there. ‘Why are you here?’ he asked perplexed.
‘I still own the place, De La Fuente, I’m entitled to be here.’
‘But I thought you were selling up and paying us your arrears—’
‘Don’t bloody start; you’ll get your money. You were supposed to be getting it today but the bloody bitch that was buying it never showed up. I wasted money I don’t have, flying over, and I wasted four hours sitting in that fucking notary’s office in Marbella. A wasted fuckin’ journey. Now leave me in peace. I’ve not had a good day. And now, I’ve to go and find another buyer. Bloody hell!’
The door was slammed shut in Eduardo’s face. He made his way into the lift and leaned against the wall when the door closed, his heart pounding so fast he thought he was going to faint.
‘The bloody bitch who was buying it never showed up!’ That was what the Englishman had said. But there must be some mistake. Jutta had texted to say that everything was fine and the deal was closed.
He pressed the redial number again when he reached the ground floor and yet again it went into voice message, but this time the tinny voice said that the mailbox was full and he could not leave a message. A cold sweat broke out on Eduardo’s forehead and he half walked, half ran along the footpath to his own block. Five minutes later he was sitting at his computer checking his bank account. There was no mistake. Four hundred and fifty thousand euros had been debited from his account and credited to the client account of Ms Jutta Sauer. What was going on?
He went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. There must be some logical explanation. He must stay calm.
He went back to the party and excused himself to the woman who was in conversation with Consuela. ‘Querida, I have a migraine coming on, would you excuse me if I left and went to bed? Beatriz is enjoying the evening, it would be a shame to spoil it for her, so I won’t bid her goodnight.’
‘It’s probably after all the worry and stress of today, Eduardo. You must not take it all so seriously,’ remonstrated his wife gently. ‘I’ll be very quiet when I go to bed and try not to wake you.’
‘Thank you, Consuela, I’ll see you in the morning,’ he said, bending to kiss her cheek. He walked back to his apartment in a daze. This had to be some sort of nightmare. He couldn’t think the unthinkable. Jutta was a conscientious woman with high business ethics, if not morals.
Tomorrow all would be sorted and his fears would come to naught. He was sure of it. Eduardo reassured himself as he undressed in the dark and got into bed and lay wide-eyed and fearful, all kinds of scenarios going through his head.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
JUTTA / FELIPE / EDUARDO
At least Alicia was asleep, in the window seat, curled up cat-like in a ball, her thumb in her mouth. The aisle seat in their three-seat row was empty and Jutta could leave her travel bag on it, free to take out whatever childcare items she needed on the flight to Istanbul. They were flying economy on the Boeing 737, and she longed to stretch her legs. Being tall had its disadvantages on long flights. She glanced at her watch; they had being flying east for over two and a half hours: they should be over the Tyrrhenian Sea, heading for Italy. Still in European air space. In another couple of hours they would be landing in Ataturk Airport in Istanbul, where Felipe would be waiting to meet them. It would not be a joyful reunion.
Anyone looking at her would think she was calm, composed, a seasoned traveller. They wouldn’t believe that she was actually a thief, and a fugitive, and an accomplished liar. Jutta could hardly believe it herself. The last ten days had been the most surreal of her life. From the moment a chunky, muscular bearded man in his fifties, wearing an ill-fitting blue suit that hardly seemed to contain his barrel chest, had walked through her office door and introduced himself as Fedor Orlov, a friend of her husband’s. Jutta couldn’t remember Felipe mentioning anyone of that name to her. She’d pasted on a polite smile and asked how she could help him.
‘I may engage your services, in the future. I hear you run an excellent business here on the Costa, I was passing and I just wanted to drop my card in to you. Do give Felipe my best wishes. We must all have dinner sometime,’ he said in his broken English. His eyes were watchful, flitting around the office taking everything in. Jutta felt uncomfortable and took an instant dislike to him.
‘I’m sure my husband can arrange that,’ she said politely. ‘Thank you for dropping in, but I’m afraid I have clients to meet and greet at one of my apartments so I must leave now.’
‘But of course, drive carefully in that big old Mercedes of yours.’ He smiled but the smile didn’t reach his eyes which were hard and watchful. How did he know that she drove a Merc? she wondered, watching him leave, and nod politely at her secretary. Perhaps Felipe had mentioned it.
‘Fedor Orlov came to your office!’ The horror in her husband’s voice when she phoned him as she drove along the A-7 shocked her.
‘Why what’s wrong with that?’
‘Jesucristo, Jutta, this isn’t good. Tell me exactly what he said.’
‘. . . and then he told me to drive carefully in that old Mercedes of mine. How did he know I drove an old Merc, Felipe? What’s going on?’ she demanded driving onto the slip road to get to the apartment block.
‘This isn’t good, this isn’t good at all,’ muttered her husband. ‘Where are you now?’
‘I’m doing a meet and greet in Jasmine Gardens, why? What’s the problem, Felipe? Tell me.’
‘I’ll meet you in the Don Carlos at twelve, OK? I’ve things to do. I’ll see you then.’ He hung up abruptly and she shook her head. He was driving her mad, lately. Distracted, moody, irritable, and when she asked him how work was going he’d clam up and say he was dealing with it.
He was sitting on one of the big orange sofas in the foyer, waiting for her, but the hotel was busy, with people milling around and he stood up and said, ‘We need to talk somewhere private, let’s go outsi
de to the terrace.’
‘It’s August, in the Costa del Sol, you’re not going to get anywhere private here,’ she’d said crossly, annoyed that she had to factor in this meeting when she could ill afford the time.
A couple were just standing up from a table under the shade of a massive palm tree. ‘Sit there. I’ll get us coffee,’ he ordered and only then did she notice how utterly stressed he looked, a grey hue overtaking his sallow complexion. Jutta felt a knot in her stomach. He was probably going to tell her he was bankrupt or something. She wouldn’t be surprised. She’d been half expecting it, she thought morosely. Thank God she had her own business and it was totally separate from his. It looked like she’d be paying the bills for the foreseeable future.
‘Tell me what’s going on, right now, Felipe,’ she demanded when he arrived back with two coffees and a large tuna and salad roll, cut in half. He gave her one half and started eating the other.
‘It’s like this,’ her husband said, wiping tuna flakes from his mouth, before swallowing a slug of coffee. ‘I got involved with some Russians over a land deal and I can’t pay them back at the moment—’
‘The Russians!’ She couldn’t believe her ears. ‘You got involved with Russians. You fucking arschloch, Felipe. You know what they’re like. They’re hoodlums if you get on the wrong side of them.’
‘I know. We have to get the hell away from Spain, Jutta. If they don’t get the money from me they’ll come looking for it from you. That’s why that thug Orlov visited you today. He was just letting me know that they’ll get their money one way or another.’
‘How much?’ Jutta demanded, sick to her stomach.
‘Two hundred thousand euros,’ he muttered.
‘I don’t have two hundred thousand. Jesu are you mad?’
‘Jutta, I’m telling you now we have to get out of here—’
‘You have to get out of here,’ she said angrily, her voice raised.
‘Shush,’ he hissed. ‘Don’t draw attention to us. Even if I go, they’ll come after you. That’s what that visit was about this morning.’
‘But I don’t have any dealings with them,’ she protested heatedly.
‘That doesn’t matter to them. You’re my wife, you run a business, you have money, and they want theirs. It’s that simple.’
‘Well fuck you, Felipe, for bringing this threat to me. How could you?’ she raged.
‘Look, it’s done now, and we have to deal with it. Remember when I went to Cyprus, a while back?’
‘What about it?’ she said, in turmoil. All around her tourists were laughing and chatting and lazing in the sun and her life was collapsing around her ears.
‘I’ve had a look around Famagusta and Kyrenia, the tourist cities in the North; it’s a nice place. We could start afresh. I have a plan,’ he said.
‘I’ve had enough of your plans,’ she said bitterly.
‘Well if you don’t want the Russians knocking on your door, and they will keep knocking and they’ll start making threats,’ he said grimly, ‘you’d better listen.’
‘I won’t do it, Felipe,’ she said, outraged when he outlined his proposal.
‘That’s up to you, Jutta. I’m getting out. I have my bags packed; they’re in the boot of my car. I’m taking a room in the Ibis, at the airport and I’m flying to Istanbul tomorrow, and then on to Cyprus.’
‘You’re leaving . . . just like that? What about Alicia?’ She was stunned.
‘If I stay here, I’m in trouble, and in danger. Those guys don’t mess around. I have to go, Jutta, and you have to come with me. I’ll go and rent us a place to live and we’ll take it from there. Just do exactly what I tell you and we can make a fresh start. There’s no extradition north of the Green Line.’
A fresh start, Jutta thought bitterly as the plane bumped across Italy. She could never look herself in the eye again. Eduardo’s hard-earned money, that had been sitting in her client account, had gone to pay off the Russians, and the rest was in a bank account in Germany, opened when she’d visited her father and ready to be transferred to a bank account in Cyprus as soon as she set it up. Every fibre in her being hated what she’d done to the Spaniard.
How ashamed her father and mother would be of her; how ashamed she was of herself.
Poor Eduardo, had he discovered yet that she’d done a runner? No doubt he was phoning her to see where she was. He could phone all he liked. The sim card was cut in pieces and floating somewhere in the sewerage pipes at Malaga airport where she’d flushed them down the toilet before checking in.
Jutta sat, exhausted, listening to the thrum of the engines. There was yet another ordeal she had to endure before she landed in Istanbul. She pressed her call button and when the stewardess came she said calmly, ‘Could you keep an eye on my daughter please, I need to use the restroom.’
‘Of course, Madame,’ the young woman said.
Jutta made her way up the aisle and let herself into the narrow cubicle. She opened her handbag and took out the pregnancy test kit she’d bought that morning before leaving for the airport.
She unzipped her trousers and pulled her clothes down and squatted and peed over the stick and placed it beside the sink while she adjusted her clothing and washed her hands. She really didn’t need the test to know she was pregnant. It had hit her like a ton of bricks when she’d been sitting in her office two days previously wondering why she was so extraordinarily weary.
Not since she’d been pregnant with Alicia had she ever felt so exhausted she’d thought idly, and then she knew! She and Felipe had talked about having another child so that Alicia would have a sibling. She’d stopped using contraception but wasn’t particularly interested in calculating her fertile times. If it happened it happened. Why now? Just when she needed a pregnancy like a hole in the head? A thought struck her and an image floated into her consciousness as she watched two faint blue lines appear and grow brighter.
‘Oh mein Gott!’ she exclaimed in dismay. With all that was going on in her life she’d given it no thought. With uncharacteristic recklessness and lack of foresight she’d used no protection on the night of her torrid sexual encounter with Eduardo. Was this child his?
Could this nightmare get any worse? Jutta deliberated, making her way back to her seat just as they hit turbulence and Alicia woke up and started to howl. She managed to soothe her with the help of a lollipop, and eventually the toddler fell asleep again, leaving Jutta to her thoughts.
‘No extradition north of the Green Line.’ Felipe’s words came to mind. She was now a fugitive. No doubt they would be reported to the police and Interpol would be informed. She had two passports, German and Spanish. Which should she use?
Silent tears slid down Jutta’s cheeks. She suddenly longed to be in Dornburg and feel the comfort and security of home. Longed to be with Oskar now that she knew she couldn’t. Would she ever have security again? She didn’t think so. There was no fresh start in Cyprus. She would be trapped on the island, living with the husband she’d lost all respect for, and everything she’d ever dreamed off was now well and truly beyond her reach.
‘She’s not answering her phone. There’s been no word from her. Her husband isn’t answering his phone, either, Señor De La Fuente,’ Jutta’s secretary said, trying to maintain an air of unruffled composure. ‘If I hear anything I’ll get back to you immediately.’
‘Please do, it’s of the utmost importance,’ he barked and she glared at the phone as he hung up.
‘Join the queue,’ she muttered. The phone hadn’t stopped ringing all morning. Clients had arrived at apartments and hadn’t been met by Jutta with the keys of their apartment. The office of the notary in Marbella had been on the phone, yet again, having made several calls the previous day asking for her whereabouts.
Jutta’s au pair had phoned, having come back to the apartment after Jutta had given her an unexpected day off, to find no trace of her employers and their toddler. The wardrobes were mostly empty, she reported, mystifie
d.
‘I think Jutta’s gone for good,’ Christine confided to the office manager.
‘Don’t say that! We haven’t been paid this month,’ the other woman exclaimed, tapping swiftly on her keyboard.
‘Madre de Dios,’ she muttered. ‘You’re right! The client account is empty, closed. Jutta’s done a runner and left us to deal with it. Print off her client list right now. Don’t answer the phone. You and I’ll have to relocate, but we can keep up the cleaning and maintenance end and set up on our own if we play our cards right,’ Olga said grimly. She’d always thought Jutta’s professional integrity was too good to be true. And now she’d been proved right. The German woman was clearly a thief, for all her sanctimonious pontifications about the underhand Spanish, which Olga had been forced to listen to over the years. But still, it was hard to believe that only the day before yesterday she’d been making out the rota for the cleaners and today Jutta Sauer Perez had vanished leaving chaos in her wake.
It seemed the unthinkable had happened, Eduardo thought bleakly, staring at his phone. He’d once again phoned Jutta’s office, and they had no idea where she was. But Eduardo knew in his gut that the German woman had absconded with his money. It seemed yet another woman had grievously betrayed him. His plan to buy the penthouse had been the most impulsive decision of his life and now his imprudent behaviour would cost him dearly.
He’d been so sure that he could trust Jutta. Now his lack of judgement – something he’d always prided himself on – would haunt him for the rest of his life.
He took a deep breath and walked back along the boardwalk to La Joya. He’d taken the walk to make his phone calls in private, and walk his dog. The apartment was no place for the conversations he was having, with Consuela and Beatriz within hearing distance.
Orange Blossom Days Page 40
