Bacchus and Sanderson (Deceased) (27 page)

“I’m ninety nine per cent sure there wasn’t. It was my launch party, you know. Launched into the maelstrom of Conservative politics for the good of the Cortez clan. The whole Cortez clan together. Father had decided that tonight Jonas Sanderson would stop being a problem. I’m sure he wouldn’t have allowed any interference by the authorities. Why would they have been interested? He had a heart attack” Laughing he continued, “A cocaine induced heart attack, but a heart attack nonetheless. The finest Cortez marching powder. I know Felicity arranged for a very rapid cremation of the brother and I’m sure father had Jonas turned to ash within a few hours.”

“Thanks Uncle Alex. Jemima said, struggling to hide the shock from her voice. Cortez marching powder? Cortez cocaine?

“No incriminating reports to deal with. Wonderful. You said the whole Cortez clan, was dad with you that night?”

A chuckle and then a sneering response,

“No, just the players. The ones who father respected.
”
            
 
Jemima heard the sound of a door being opened in the background and the muted voice of her uncle’s PA, Debbie. Her uncle hung up, leaving her sitting listening to nothing. Moments later her iPhone rang. She saw the number of her uncles House of Commons office and assumed that technology had interrupted them.

“Jemima?” Debbie asked, “Sorry about Alex hanging up on you, but another urgent call came through that he couldn’t avoid. I just wanted to explain. Your sister is such a bitch isn’t she? Anyway next time you’re around give me a call and maybe we can have dinner, okay? Bye then.”

Jemima realised that she hadn’t said a word in the entire twenty-second call. Why did Felicity want to speak to Alex? Would he mention their call a moment ago?

***

              What, Felicity wondered, was Jemima doing in Sherborne? No results had been forthcoming in two weeks. Now she was seeing the cripple, an enthusiastic romp with an attractive woman should have had him falling over himself with gratitude. Hard on Jemima having to screw the cripple, but a generous bauble should help. Nothing to report, she’d been told. Not a peep out of him. It wasn’t good enough. Nowhere near good enough.

              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.”

              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?”