The Beatrice Stubbs Series Boxset One

by JJ Marsh

  Adrian felt frustrated and impatient. Once identities had been established, it seemed everyone except him could be useful. Angel guided the three officers back through the bottling plant. Ana accompanied a detective to the despatch bay to indicate the precise location of Beatrice Stubbs. Adrian was to wait around the corner, behind the vehicles and out of harm’s way. It seemed terribly unfair, but he did as he was told. Two other men stood in the shadows, and nodded to him as he joined them. Although Adrian couldn’t see what was happening in the delivery bay, he had a clear view of the driveway, and watched as blue lights from three ambulances flashed towards them. The night air penetrated his linen jacket.

  One of the men murmured to the other. “Don’t like the look of that. Unless the other two are a precaution.”

  Adrian had never been happier to hear a northern accent. “You’re English! Thank God for that. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “Not really. We’re here to help a friend out. But as far as we know, she’s still in there.”

  “Oh, you must be Beatrice’s cavalry! Yes, she’s still in there. We managed to escape through the building, but she wouldn’t leave Matthew. They got him drunk, you see.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Jase said. Another mate of ours. He’s up on the roof with the police now. He was watching you through the window.”

  “Beatrice thought they were going to put us in a car and push it over a cliff with Matthew in the driver’s seat.”

  The two men exchanged a look and the tall one spoke. “She weren’t wrong, mate. There’s a Seat Toledo round the back doused in petrol. You’d not stand a chance.”

  Adrian’s stomach plummeted and his skin cooled still further. Trapped in a car, burning to death.

  Police officers directed one ambulance to the forecourt and the other two past them to park just out of sight of the delivery bay. Medical staff jumped out and wheeled out stretchers. Adrian turned to check the other vehicle. The crew remained in the cab.

  The first man followed Adrian’s sightline. “My name’s Kev. This is Tyler. And as I said, our mate Jase is on the roof.” He held out his hand.

  “Adrian.” He shook both hands, distractedly. “You said just now you didn’t like the look of two ambulances. Has someone already been hurt?”

  Tyler looked away, but Kev answered. “Judging by the shouting, someone’s down in the warehouse. But that,” he pointed to the inactive ambulance, “is to collect the body. They’re just waiting for the coroner to finish. Look, mate, I’m sorry, I’m not sure if it’s someone you know, but there’s a woman in the ditch over there. She’s been shot.”

  A sudden barrage of yells went up from the delivery bay and the ambulance crew dashed around the corner. Adrian forgot his instructions and ran towards the action, unable to comprehend what Kev had just said. A single phrase ricocheted around his mind – ‘someone’s down in the warehouse’.

  Kev and Tyler were right behind him as he took the corner. He scanned the scene. Tomas, cuffed, being led down the steps. Police everywhere. Two clusters of paramedics bending over prone bodies. And Ana, standing with her arms wrapped tightly around Beatrice Stubbs.

  Chapter 41

  One ambulance raced away, bearing the stricken detective and an injured officer. The second crew loaded a comatose Matthew onto a stretcher. Beatrice kept her concentration on him, even as the two police cars drove past. She had no desire to see Tomas’s repulsive sneer or the face of Arturo de Aguirre.

  “Señora?” The paramedic came to the door of the ambulance.

  Beatrice called across to where Ana was talking to a tall blond chap in a long coat. “Ana, sorry to disturb, but can you translate?”

  Adrian, Kev, Jase and Tyler all gathered around her, each face full of concern, as Ana listened.

  “He’s going to be fine. She says it looks like alcohol poisoning and they want to take him in for observation, but she reckons that with decent hydration and rest, he’ll easily be on his feet tomorrow. Do you want to go with them, Beatrice?”

  “No. I’m sure they will take good care of him. I’ll go in later but first I need to talk to the police. Check which hospital, though.”

  “I meant for a check-up yourself. You had a nasty fall.”

  “Bloodied elbows, that’s all. To add to my collection. Just ask where he’s going, because we need to get on.”

  Ana took out her notebook and turned to the paramedic.

  Adrian placed a hand on Beatrice’s arm. “It’s fine. We don’t have to talk to the police tonight. They agree we should go back to the hotel, get some rest and go into the station in the morning to provide statements.”

  “It’s not about statements. I need to know what’s happened to Luz.”

  The ambulance doors closed and Beatrice watched it roll away. Look after him, she thought, he’s very special. Only then did she notice all five of her companions wore the same sorrowful expression.

  Ice spread from her scalp and for the first time that day, she sensed the onset of tears.

  “She’s dead, isn’t she?” she said.

  Kev nodded. “I’m sorry, Beatrice. We found her, by accident. They took the body away before we even got you out of the building. She was in that ditch.” He indicated the stream behind them, black, cold and shallow.

  She couldn’t bear to know but she had to ask. “What did they do to her?”

  Kev took a deep breath but Ana answered first.

  “I don’t think ‘they’ did anything. From what we’ve worked out, Aguirre did it himself. Looks like the forest sweep for Matthew and Adrian was a distraction. Seems Aguirre’s guys knew they were there. So they made a half-arsed search, checked there were no observers, and Luz was taken out front and left in the car. Then Aguirre’s mob did a wider circle and prepared a trap. All they needed to do was wait for you and I to arrive. They were very well informed.”

  Jaime.

  A rage boiled up which Beatrice controlled by clenching her jaw and fists. “I asked you what happened to her.”

  Ana continued. “With us tied up in the warehouse, Aguirre went out – remember – and disposed of his daughter.”

  “Disposed? Don’t pussycat round me, Ana. How did she die?”

  “He shot her in the mouth.”

  Adrian, Kev, Jase and Tyler all dropped their heads.

  Beatrice fanned her fury. Fury was good, active and articulate. Grief was debilitating and blocked her throat. “In cold blood, he took his own daughter to a mean, lonely ditch and shot her, just to protect his business interests. The man is evil. How the hell did he expect to get away with that?”

  “We reckon he planned to fake her suicide,” said Jase. “The gun was in her hand when they pulled the body out. Wouldn’t surprise me if there’s a typed ‘I have to end it all’ note at home in her bedroom.”

  “Nor me,” agreed Ana. “But that’s not all. I just had a chat with the coroner’s assistant. He checked out the surroundings: pockets, handbag and so on. She had a pregnancy test in her bag. Positive.”

  Beatrice’s head reeled as she went through the options. If Luz was pregnant, it would certainly be complicated. According to her, the boyfriend would never meet with parental approval. Allowing grief the upper hand, Beatrice pictured her. Dark hair, kind eyes and her prominent nose as she dipped into her gin and tonic.

  Gin and tonic. A newly pregnant woman, slugging back a G&T? Something smelt off. But if Aguirre wanted to add a reason for her to take her own life, a positive pregnancy test would convince most coroners. Despite advances in understanding, for many single mothers a sense of shame remained. Was it possible to fix a pregnancy test and plant it on someone? If so, the man was a truly twisted individual.

  “But how did he work the logistics? How was Luz supposed to have got here?”

  Kev nodded. “That’s what I thought. Then I remembered what we saw when we first arrived. The Reservoir Dogs bunch was out front when some bloke arrived in a Peugeot. I thought it were weird. He stopped f
or a quick chat with his mates and left in the Corsa. My money’s on the Peugeot belonging to the dead woman.”

  “Luz,” Beatrice insisted. “Her name’s Luz. What did this bloke look like?”

  “Mid-thirties, dark hair, leather jacket and cowboy boots. Kind of fancied himself, I thought.”

  Jaime. Lying, duplicitous, venomous rattlesnake. Beatrice looked at the ditch where Luz had died at the hands of her own father.

  “Right, so let’s wait for the forensic pathology report and give full statements to the police tomorrow. In the meantime, there’s someone I want to talk to. Where’s your car, Kev? I’d like to visit Jaime.”

  Chapter 42

  She came empty-handed. He couldn’t eat grapes, and flowers were banned in his room. In any case, she wasn’t even sure if they’d let her in. Generally, hospital staff took their lunch immediately after the patients, so Beatrice grabbed the opportunity and ascended three floors to Intensive Care.

  The nurse held up a splayed hand. “Five minutes, OK? Is very tired.”

  “Of course. No problem.” The trembling began again as she walked down the corridor to Room 223. A deep-seated shudder which spasmed though her whole body at random intervals. Delayed shock reaction, that’s all, nothing to worry about, she told herself. All the same, she might just share it with James when she got back.

  She knocked lightly and pushed open the door. A low hum from the various machines was the only response. The curtains were half-drawn, creating shadows in the corners while dust motes seemed suspended in the sunlight across his feet. She approached the bed, taking in the neatly folded sheets, the tubes piercing his bruised flesh and the bandages around his shoulder. His face, despite the intrusion of stitches and tape securing his oxygen tube, seemed peaceful and calm, a different picture from the rictus of pain he’d worn last time she’d seen him. His dark eyes opened and focused on her, sending a jolt of surprise along with the shakes.

  “Good morning, Detective ...” she ran out of words.

  Milandro blinked and unfolded his hand. She grasped his fingers in a simulation of a handshake.

  “I know you can’t speak yet. But I had to come. I want to, well, first of all ... how are you feeling, on a scale of one to ten?”

  Milandro dropped his eyes to his hands, limp on the white sheets. He uncurled his right hand to display four fingers, considered a moment and added two more from his left.

  Beatrice smiled with relief. “That’s wonderful. We were all so worried about you. Detective, my main reason for coming is to apologise. I mistrusted you, suspected the police of corruption and thereby endangered ...”

  He lifted his hand, took a moment and opened his mouth. “You were right.” His voice sounded painful.

  “Don’t talk. Firstly because it sounds like it hurts. And secondly because I haven’t finished yet.”

  He ignored her. “The police were corrupt. My superior officer was on Aguirre’s ...” He coughed once, winced with pain and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Please, Detective, you must rest. I won’t be the cause of you tearing your stitches or rupturing something else. I do have a few questions, because the police officers at the station will tell me absolutely nothing. It’s a closed shop. But all I need at this stage is a yes or a no. Can we agree to that?”

  Milandro opened his eyes, blinked and indicated the water jug. Beatrice poured a small amount into a glass and twisted the straw to the right angle. She placed it between his lips and watched as he swallowed two tiny mouthfuls. His face was grazed along the cheekbone and dark stubble with flecks of grey covered his chin. Even with the striking scar tissue, he was a good-looking man. As if he could hear her, he looked up with amusement in his eyes.

  Beatrice fussed over returning the glass to cover her awkwardness.

  “Finished? OK, I’ll put this here in case you want some more later. Now, as I said, there are just a couple of things I’d like to know. You said Aguirre had nobbled your superior officer?”

  Milandro dipped his chin slightly to indicate the affirmative.

  “So it must have been Salgado who called Scotland Yard. I thought it was you. Within an hour of our first meeting, my boss phoned me and told me to mind my own business. Said I was a bloody nuisance.”

  Milandro nodded again.

  “Are you saying yes to the fact it was Salgado or agreeing that I’m a bloody nuisance?”

  Milandro twitched his eyebrow and smiled. Beatrice pressed on.

  “I realise it was stupid to tackle Aguirre’s people alone, but you understand I had no faith in ... well, in the force. Can I ask how you knew how to find us at Alava Exports?”

  He pointed an index finger to his right eye, pulling down the lower lid.

  “You watched the hotel. You didn’t trust me. I suppose I should be glad, because you were absolutely right. Seems I placed too much faith in certain people. I presume you know Jaime Rodriguez has disappeared.”

  Milandro fixed her with a furious glare.

  “I know. I feel more stupid than I can express. No wonder Aguirre was always one step ahead. Jaime and all his worldly goods have vanished, including the contents of his office.”

  The indignity of being played for a fool rose up in Beatrice like bile. She walked to the window, paced back to the door and back to the window, unable to keep still.

  “That sly, evil, devious, two-faced, foul, ingratiating little weasel! How could anyone behave like that? So sincere, so caring! Good God, we were totally taken in! He definitely set Tiago up, you know, and would have thrown Ana to those wolves. The dirty little sleazebag! And he must have told Aguirre about Luz visiting me.”

  “Luz?”

  Of their own volition, Beatrice’s hands assumed a prayer-like pose over her nose. She stared at Milandro and spoke with a steady voice.

  “The woman who came to my hotel room on Friday was Aguirre’s youngest daughter. She gave me all the necessary documentation to expose him and his operation. He found out and he shot her. In the head. That bastard intended to fake her suicide, with a note and everything. He’d even planted a pregnancy test in her handbag, as if that would provide just cause. What kind of man is he?”

  Milandro’s mouth twisted in an expression of sympathy or disgust. He shook his head and went to speak. The door opened and the nurse bustled in with a trolley bearing pills, dressings and the suchlike.

  “Señora, you go now. Is time. Bye, bye.”

  “Yes, of course.” Beatrice gathered her bag and got out of the way. “Thank you for your time, Detective. I wish you all the best and a speedy recovery. And I really am sorry.”

  He smiled and raised a hand a couple of centimetres from the bed.

  An impulse swelled in Beatrice and she knew this was her chance.

  “Detective? Would you give me permission to see him? They’ll never let me in without your say-so.”

  Milandro’s eyes hardened, as if he were trying to read her mind.

  His voice scratched out, provoking a frown from the nurse. “Why?”

  “It’s just something I need to do.”

  His gaze lingered a second longer and his chin dipped once more.

  “Thank you.”

  Chapter 43

  After reading two articles on Hellenic politics and British artefacts in The Times, Matthew dozed off. She waited several minutes before tiptoeing into the bathroom to call Ana.

  “Hi Beatrice. You got my text?”

  “Hello. Yes, I did. Still no trace of Jaime?”

  “Nope. The man has gone up in a puff of smoke. But I have got the autopsy results on Luz. She wasn’t pregnant.”

  “So why was a pregnancy test in her bag?”

  “I think I can answer that. I went to the Aguirre estate this morning. Closed shop. Marisol’s still sedated and the sisters set security on me. But I had a nice chat with the housekeeper. Firstly, Inez is up the duff and receiving medical treatment. The shock of her sister’s death, father’s arrest and husband’s departure
is seen as extremely dangerous for ‘her condition’. There’s your pregnancy test. I reckon she was in on this. The housekeeper also said Aguirre and Luz had an almighty row at breakfast on Friday. She thinks he wanted Luz to drop out of university and come home. And get this. Our junior reporter just got back from Burgos. According to Luz’s roommate, Marisol Aguirre had already cleared out Luz’s university room on Friday morning.”

  “So the whole family conspired to get rid of her?”

  “Dunno. Nothing concrete yet, but it stinks to high heaven.”

  Beatrice stared at herself in the mirror and made her decision.

  “Are you still at the paper, Ana?”

  “Is the Pope Catholic? Got in at six this morning and been flat out ever since. But I’ll make it to the restaurant tonight, don’t worry. How’s Matthew?”

  “Asleep at the moment, but improving all the time. I think we’re all going to fly home tomorrow.”

  “All of you? I thought you had a grand tour of Spain planned.”

  “I had. Still have. But I may just do it in small doses. Right, I’m going to get my head down for an hour. See you at La Cepa at eight.”

  Lying was like any other activity. The more you did it, the easier it became. Beatrice splashed some water on her face and thought of Shakespeare. If it were done when ‘tis done then ‘twere well it were done quickly. Quickly. It had to be now. Ana was at the office, Matthew asleep, Adrian distracted and Vitoria on a Sunday timetable. She packed her handbag, including Milandro’s letter of permission, and wrote a breezy note for Matthew. She propped it against his litre-bottle of mineral water and blew him a silent kiss, before hurrying along the corridor to Adrian’s room. He opened the door, barefoot and smiling.

  “Hello. I was just about to pop along and check how he is. Did our lunch excursion wear him out?”

  “It seems that way. He’s got his feet up on the sofa and he’s napping. A post-prandial snooze always does him good, even without the upsets of the last two days. I need to toddle along to the police station for a short while. Might you be good enough to look in on him occasionally?”