Bacchus and Sanderson (Deceased) (28 page)

              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,

“It would be difficult to forget”

Jemima blushed remembering her seduction in the darkened bookshop.

“Quite. Before that we talked about your uncle and father and how they had been murdered by my grandfather.”

The smiled slid from Ben’s face, replaced by a looked that combined anger and sadness.

“Yes, yes I remember”

“And you believed me?”

Ben nodded staring at her.

“Listen to this” Jemima tapped the play icon on the screen of her iPhone and the telephone conversation she had had with Debbie and uncle Alexander filled the office. As the conversation played, she could remember the feelings as each part of the conversation flowed past. The realisation that the family were involved in some way in drugs, cocaine. That her grandfather and uncle were murderers. The relief that her father hadn’t been involved and something else. Something she knew she was missing, but what? Watching Ben’s face as he listened to the recording; she saw a range of emotions from shock to anger and then confusion cross his face.

              When the recording finished Ben sat a lost look on his face. After a moment he managed to control his emotions and whispered,

“I wonder who was there when Jonas died? Uncle Alex said your father wasn’t there. So who was? Whoever it was could have been involved in his murder. Charles might have ordered his death, but he wouldn’t get his hands dirty. That would have been left to someone else.”

Ben paused lost in thought,

“I think I can find out, but it might take a while.”

Jemima nodded and motioned him to go on.

“No, I need to think it through. Why don’t you tell me about your problem”

              Jemima looked at him sitting in front of her, eyes closed lost in thought. She shrugged, thought and then began.

“I want to leave my family.”

His eyes shot open and he stared at her, trying to decipher any hidden meaning within her statement.

“Being a Cortez, part of the Cortez clan wasn’t something I was proud of. I was just a Cortez. An insignificant Cortez, but still a Cortez. So I was given a generous allowance, a very generous allowance. From time to time, if Felicity needed something doing with discretion, I would get a call and do it. I can be a scary bitch if needed, so I was sent to scare people. Who would run from a girl? No one, not until they met me anyway. I explained to people the consequences of not doing as the Cortez’s asked. They always decided I was right. In hindsight, I’ve been naive. I thought it was petrochemical secrets, bioethanol deals, business shit.”

              Jemima paused for a moment, took a sip of her now lukewarm tea and continued,

“As you heard on the recorded message, it seems the Cortez clan are altogether different people to the ones I thought I knew. My grandfather, may he burn in hell, was a violent misogynist. My sister is a sociopath and as you heard my uncle is also unpleasant. Stupid, gullible and unpleasant. He doesn’t know the trouble that is going to come his way, none of them do.”

Jemima took a large gulp of her lukewarm Darjeeling tea and then a smaller sip.

“Those foibles I knew and could excuse as long as they left me alone. Drugs I cannot forgive, condone or be involved with. Odd if you think about it for a moment. I’m happy to frighten people for business reasons, but not druggy reasons. A girlfriend I was very close to was an addict, coke. She died when she got her hands on some ultra pure stuff and snorted her brains out. Heart attack. Now I know why. Ben, until I met you I thought I was a died in the wool lesbian. I felt comfortable in the company of girls, women. They were softer gentler, without the brutal rough edges that men seemed to have. Making love, sometimes just having sex, was safe. I wasn’t going to be hurt, as I had been when my grandfather raped me. I wasn’t going to be taunted or humiliated as I had been by both my grandfather and Felicity. What had been teenage experimentation and would have developed into a healthy bisexual lifestyle became a search for gentleness and safety, which I assumed I would only be able to find with a woman. I now know how good making love to a man can be. No pain, no humiliation, just love and respect. I have never known that before. Thank you. Can we do something together later? I want to keep you close.
”
            
 
Ben looked stunned, his face revealing that he had had no idea that Jemima felt that way. He hesitated unsure what to say. He knew he had to say something, but he didn’t want to get it wrong. Nodding his head in understanding, he stared into her eyes and said.

“Now, if you’d like, it’s time you met Marmite”

“Marmite?”

“Marmite. A ten week old black Labrador bitch who is going to be a big part of our lives. If you pass the Marmite test and would like to, perhaps we could check you out of The Eastbury and check you into chez Ben and Marmite. What do you think?”

              When she stood up; picked up her coat and walked out of the office and down the stairs he knew he’d blown it. Jumping up, he grabbed his jacket and crutch and ran as fast as his damaged leg would allow. He flew across the room to the office door, tripping over the chair in his haste, all the time chanting under his breath,

“Shit, shit, shit. Too soon you idiot.”

As he came out of the door onto the stairs, he looked down and saw her beaming up at him.

“Do we need a taxi or can we walk? We don’t want to keep Marmite waiting.”

Alexander leaned back in his armchair and took a large sip of Courvoisier L’Esprit.

“This cognac comes in a Lalique crystal decanter and costs nine thousand five hundred dollars a bottle. A shade under six thousand pounds, magnificent. Thank you for complementing this enormous cognac with a Chinese takeaway. Not Le Gavroche is it?”

Felicity brushed aside his feigned displeasure with a brusque,

“We need to talk, I’m needed elsewhere tomorrow, so Chinese food and a very acceptable bottle of Meursault Premier Cru will have to suffice. To business. We have a vast amount of product arriving in a couple of weeks, vast.”

Alexander interrupted with irritation.