“They call this area “Golf Valley” because there are so many campos de golf. Many rich foreigners are living in the big villas around here.” Leticia was pointing out some enormous properties, most of them with huge walls to keep out prying eyes. Only the roofs could be seen from the road.
They look more like mansions than villas, thought Jenny, but not many of them compare with Charlie’s property.
There was a huge amount of construction going on, even in this exclusive and expensive neighbourhood. Driving around the perimeter of the Las Manzanás urbanisation, above York House, the paved road ended and they came upon a narrower lane, just a dirt track covered in gravel. The track turned and ran for a couple of kilometres until it came past a large forested area then alongside a wide, rolling valley, populated by small groups of olive trees and flowering bushes, with a small river running through it. It seemed that the land around the river was being shaped into a golf course by massive earthmoving machines. Hills were being flattened and new hills recreated to replace them. But there was no one working on the site, the machines were standing idle and the whole area was deserted. There was no activity at all.
Further along, at the side of the track there was an enormous, crater-like excavation for an apartment development. A large, painted sales sign was erected in front of the huge hole, which had a wooden barrier around it. The sign announced a magnificent new golf course and country club on the site. It had an artist’s impressions of the course, with the apartment building and swimming pool in front. The development was called AVENIDA PARC, but the empty shell of the building standing there looked derelict and abandoned. The biggest crane Jenny had ever seen towered over them, reaching up out of the depths of the excavation. There was enough construction equipment in and around the hole to build a city. Judging from what was going on everywhere else on the coast she had no doubt that was the intention.
Fortunately, it was on the other side of the forested land from Charlie’s property and far away enough not to affect their tranquillity, if it was ever completed. I suppose it’s always been like this, she thought to herself. Just as you think the area is finished and settled, they start all over again. Except this time it looks as if they’ve run out of money, or clients, or both.
They continued on the track for another kilometer, emerging higher up the main road to Coin, which brought them back down again to the entrance of the urbanisation. Preoccupied with their sight seeing, the women didn’t notice the small black car that had been following them all afternoon.
“I don’t understand,” Jenny said, as they arrived at the house. “How are they going to take all the traffic on the roads and provide the water and infrastructure needed for such an influx of newcomers? And where are they going to find all those wealthy foreigners to buy apartments and houses and shares in more and more new golf and country clubs? It looks like they’re already too many of them under construction.”
Leticia shrugged, “Spanish promoters are not worrying at all for such matters. They sell everything from the plans before it’s built and they take the money for the next project. Nobody cares for finishing anything.”
“I’ve heard that saying before. Spain will be a lovely place when it’s finished!”
“If it gets finished,” added Leticia.
Jenny checked again that evening for emails. There were still no replies. Strange, she thought, you’d think his friends would be in touch as soon as they heard of his accident. She went to bed early and fell immediately into a deep sleep.
It was nine thirty and José Luis was already sittting at the table with a glass of Fino sherry when Espinoza arrived. They had arranged to meet for dinner at the Posada de Antonio. The restaurant, owned by Antonio Banderas, the actor, was not usually within Espinoza’s budget, but his invitation was an official one and he could enjoy a good dinner on his expense account.
He had known the lawyer for twenty years and they had been good friends for the last twelve, when he had been promoted to Inspector in the Homicide squad and was immediately thrust into a murder case in nearby Estepona. It had taken him only three weeks to solve the crime, using old fashioned detective work, with an unorthodox, politically incorrect approach.
The victim was a real estate promoter whose brutally beaten body had been found in the cellar of a half-finished apartment complex on the marina. When Espinoza examined the contracts and accounts of the development, he began to conceive a solution which presented both a motive and a most unlikely suspect. But in order to follow the trail back to the suspect he had to find a way of infiltrating the network of Spanish notaries and lawyers, all the way from Malaga to Madrid.
With unofficial help from José Luis, he had managed to bluff his way to the truth and set a trap for the murderer, who had covered his tracks with clinical and callous professionalism. It was only Espinoza’s refusal to follow the rules and cut through the red tape obstacles so cleverly erected by the culprit that permitted him to find the motive and reveal the truth.
The man, who was now serving a thirty year sentence in a maximum security prison near Cordoba, was a highly respected Madrid lawyer with an international reputation, a brilliant mind. Not all of the villains of the world were IQ-challenged thugs, as Espinoza well knew.
Not all policeman are IQ-challenged either, he had decided, after the verdict.
José Luis and he had been firm friends ever since and had collaborated on a couple of other investigations. Tonight, he had invited him for dinner to pick his brain, but also from friendship, knowing that they would otherwise both be alone, since the lawyer was a widower and he and Soledad were in a state of limbo.
“Holá. Que tal, José Luis?” He sat at the table and ordered a beer. His expense allowance would stretch to one decent bottle of wine, but little more. Best to save it for dinner. He enjoyed few good meals since his separation and the consequent strain on his resources. The two men chatted for a while before ordering their meal then Espinoza started his word game.
“So. I suppose the two women were surprised at the terms of Sr. Bishop’s will?” He asked ingenuously.
The lawyer was taken aback at the question. He had surmised that the policeman wanted to talk about his separation from Soledad, since it was he who had advised a trial separation to avoid the distress and ruinous cost of divorce proceedings. He thought back to the end of his meeting with the women. “Jenny was definitely astonished at the news about Emilio,” he chuckled, “but the will itself was not really surprising.”
“And what are Sra. Bishop’s plans now? Will she be staying here at her new house? Just in case I need to contact her,” he added, looking earnestly at the lawyer.
At his age, José Luis found it difficult to control his garrulous manner. “Actually, Pedro,” he sipped the last of his fino, “the two of them are off to Geneva next week to visit a bank.”
“Geneva?” Espinoza’s brain started whirling. Find a motive for the crime, he thought to himself. A Swiss bank sounds to me like a possible motive. He threw out a few more subtle questions but saw from the lawyer’s answers that he didn’t have anything further to disclose. He let the subject drop and perused the wine list for a bottle in his price range. Their meals arrived and the evening passed pleasantly, with no further discussion of the Bishop affair.
As he walked home, Espinoza’s mind was still revolving around the lawyer’s slip-up in mentioning the Geneva bank. He knew exactly who to call. Inspector Andréas Blaser, one of his Swiss opposite numbers in Interpol. They had been on a conference together in Berlin and had got along well. Blaser lived in Carouge, a suburb of Geneva. He would know how to find the women when they arrived and how to watch what they did while in Switzerland. He would call him first thing next week.
On Sunday morning Jenny went down to the gym in the basement. It was equipped with more expensive and complicated machines than her fitness club in Ipswich. She spent thirty minutes running, lifting and stretching until she was in a fine sweat and feeling fit
again.
Later, she drove the Mini to the lovely old church in San Pedro, to attend morning mass and meet the Reverend Macintosh, a small chubby man, who emanated an aura of calm and peacefulness around him. They chatted for a while after the service and Jenny told him as much about her father-in-law’s life and family as she was able, without revealing any secrets.
She passed the rest of the day quietly. Reading, pottering in the garden, feeding the fish and watching the golfers hit their balls into the lake. It was a bit like being at home in the UK, but bathed in warm sunshine. She opened up Outlook again to check for any messages. There was still nothing. It seemed the other partners were either too busy, or simply hadn’t switched on their email over the weekend. She would check again in the morning.
Fuente came along as she was making herself a snack in the evening. His timing was perfect, as usual. He wandered away after his meal and Jenny wondered if he went off to visit someone else, or if he was a permanent resident at York House. The property was certainly big enough for him to get lost in without any difficulty.
She lay in bed that night, mentally ticking off the items in her notebook. Things seemed to be falling into place. Apart from contacting the other Angolan Clan partners, she thought. She lay awake for a while, wondering what that meant, then she fell into a sound sleep.
It was now five days until the meeting of the Angolan Clan.
FIFTY-TWO
Monday, April 21st, 2008
San Pedro de Alcantara, Spain
At eleven o’clock exactly, the funeral car left York House to follow the hearse towards the San Pedro cemetery, about seven kilometres west of Marbella. Francisco had arranged for the body to be brought up to the house earlier that morning so that the two women could say their last goodbyes.
Charlie looked so well that they half expected him to sit up and climb out of the coffin; a tribute to the cosmetic skills of the undertaker’s staff. Tears poured down Leticia’s face as she took her last look at the man she had loved, the father of her son. She gave him a farewell kiss on the forehead. His skin was cold and slightly clammy. She shivered at the sensation.
They sat with Emilio in the back of the car as it wended its way slowly along the coast road in the warm sunshine. José, Encarni and Juan were in their car behind and there were another eight cars following them. Friends who had come along to pay their respects and share this last journey together with them and Charlie.
Reverend Mackintosh welcomed them and ushered the family into the front pew of the small church. Some people were already there, probably friends from areas around Marbella. The coffin was surrounded by wreaths and floral arrangements. The church looked beautiful.
The service was brief and the vicar succeeded in making it both friendly and respectful. His short conversation with Jenny had enabled him to get an insight into a man he had never met. His address was delivered in a soft Scottish accent and he managed to raise a few tears and smiles without appearing too light-hearted. You’d think he’d known him personally, mused Jenny. What a good choice. Well done, Francisco.
She gave a short address, reminiscing about pleasant memories. Speaking fondly of Ellen and Ron, Charlie’s late wife and son. Hinting that there was more to him than might appear and regretting his disappearance but giving away no details about his extraordinary past.
Leticia was in tears for most of the service, sobbing gently and leaning into her mother’s shoulder. Jenny had asked her to say a few words but fortunately she had refused. She saw that the young woman would have been incapable of speaking, she was too distressed.
The vicar continued with the service. “We’ll now listen to Charlie’s favourite piece of music, a very interesting choice. The words are on page three of the Order of Service. If you’d like to sing along I’m sure he would be delighted.” From the loudspeakers placed in the corners of the Church there came the rhythmic sound of Waterloo. By the end of the first chorus the whole of the congregation was singing away heartily.
At the end of the service they left Emilio in the churchyard with his grandmother and walked across to the immaculate cemetery where the few mourners were assembled by the grave to witness the burial.
Jenny said, “I’m sure that Ellen and Charlie will rest better here under the Spanish sunshine than in the cold, wet earth of the UK.”
Leticia nodded. “It’s not difficult to choose. Spain has problems like every place, but everything seems easier when the sun is shining. Now they are together again, in the sunshine.” She blew her nose violently and Jenny put her arm around her shoulder as they stepped away from the grave.
Back in the churchyard, they stood beside the vicar, shaking hands with the visitors as they left. “Thank you for coming. Charlie would be happy that you came. God bless you.”
The last to leave were José Luis and Francisco. The two women thanked the young lawyer for having arranged everything. On this occasion he was not wearing jeans, but had on a navy-blue suit and a black tie. Jenny noticed that his steel-rimmed spectacles were tinted for sun protection. Again she was uncomfortable to register his good looks.
Just then Patrice walked up to them, wearing a smartly cut, double-breasted black suit. “Sorry I’m late, but I was tied up in a meeting.” He took their hands and kissed each of them on both cheeks. Jenny noticed that he held Leticia’s hands longer than was strictly necessary.
He greeted José Luis politely and Francisco grabbed his hand. “Come ésta, amigo?
He explained to the women, “Patrice and I are skiing and climbing partners. We go up to the Sierra Nevada whenever we get the chance.”
“Did you go this weekend?” Leticia tried to shake off her gloom and enter the conversation. She had never been to the mountains. Maybe she should take Emilio up there some time. It was time to start doing things with him again, Charlie would want that.
“I’m afraid not, we were both travelling. With our travel and work schedules we maybe get up there once a month if we’re lucky.” The Frenchman looked disappointed, he clearly treasured his climbing trips.
“Why do you travel on weekends?” Jenny asked Francisco. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Tell that to our clients, Jenny. I go when and where they ask me. That’s what José Luis hired me for.” He looked at the old lawyer for confirmation.
“I’m exhausted just thinking about your schedule, Francisco. Better you than me. Although I agree with Jenny, travelling on weekends doesn’t really seem fair.”
While they were speaking, Jenny noticed a young man, alone, apparently waiting to pay his respects. She didn’t know him and Leticia showed no signs of recognition.
José Luis turned to them. “Well, I think it’s time to leave you two young women with your family. I hope you have a quiet and restful evening. Francisco and I will see you tomorrow morning. The first batch of documents is ready for your signatures and the others you can collect on Wednesday. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything at all.” The women shook hands with the three men and they walked off towards the car park. The vicar went back into the church, leaving them alone with the last visitor.
They turned to greet the stranger. He was a pleasant looking man, medium height, with light brown hair, brown eyes and a slightly tanned face. Jenny noticed that his nose was a little crooked, as if it had once been broken and then fixed.
He shook their hands. “Please forgive my intrusion. I’m sorry to introduce myself on such a sad day. My name is Adam Peterson.”
He spoke with a slight but noticeable accent. Australian, wondered Jenny?
She and Leticia introduced themselves. He’s not one of Charlie’s partners, Jenny thought. “Were you a friend of my father-in-law?”
“I’ve only met him once on a business matter, so I never knew him on a personal level. But,” he added quickly, “it was some time ago. I found him to be a very clever and agreeable person.”
Before she could find out anything more, he said to Leticia.
“Is that your little boy over there? I heard him speaking Spanish in the church.”
She brought Emilio over to shyly say, “Hello” and the man tried unsuccessfully to have a conversation in English with him.
Jenny tried another tack. “Are you staying down here in Marbella?” She wondered how he could have known about Charlie’s death and the funeral.
“I just arrived yesterday and I’m leaving again this afternoon, but I wanted to pay my respects.” His glance encompassed both women. “You have my deepest sympathy.”
They talked inconsequentially for a few minutes before the stranger looked at his watch. “I’m sorry, but I must get on my way to the airport or I’m going to miss my flight.”
“Do you need a taxi?”
He shook his head. “That’s kind but I have a rental car.” He shook hands with them both, tousled Emilio’s hair and strode off out of the churchyard without looking back.
Leticia looked quizzically at Jenny. “You know who was that?”
“I’ve no idea. I wonder how he knows who we are and about Charlie’s death and the funeral. I can’t imagine how he could have found out. It was only settled on Thursday.”
“So someone we don’t even know has arrived, but none of Charlie’s partners. Why do you think no one from the Angolan Clan has come?” Leticia furrowed her brow. “Of course they had not got much time to make arrangements.”
“I wouldn’t expect Nick or Raffael to make it here from the States but you’d think that Laurent would have been able to come from Monaco. It’s not all that far away.”
“Did you look to see if we had an email from anyone?”
“I looked yesterday but there was nothing. We’ll check when we get home, maybe there’s something today.”
“It seems there are still many puzzles to solve. And who is this man, Adam Peterson?”
“I don’t know, maybe time will tell. Let’s get your parents and go home for lunch.”
The African Diamond Trilogy Box Set Page 33
