[African Diamonds 01.0] The Angolan Clan

by Christopher Lowery

  Jenny looked at her anxious face, the tears running down her cheeks. She’s still trying to get over finding her lover, her little boy’s father, lying dead by his swimming pool, she thought to herself. And I’m just making it worse. She flushed with embarrassment and took Leticia in her arms. The younger woman sobbed onto her shoulder, her body trembling with emotion.

  “I’m sorry, truly sorry. Please forgive me. I’ve behaved like an absolute bitch.” She took a deep breath, hugged Leticia closely and tried to find the right words. “Let’s start again. I’m really sorry that you lost Charlie and I’m so happy that you have Emilio. And I’m happy for myself as well. You’re not just a friend, you’re part of my new family. I thought I had lost all my family and now I see that I’ve found a new one. It’s marvellous news.” She put aside her forebodings and mustered as much conviction into her tone as she was able.

  “Yes, it’s marvellous news. Thank you, Jenny.”

  Laughing and crying simultaneously, the women walked into the restaurant.

  “Let’s have a glass of wine.” Jenny tried to maintain the positive mood, for Leticia’s sake. She had inherited a fortune and a ready-made family. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. It would take some getting used to, that was all.

  Leticia wiped away her tears as the waiter poured their wine.

  “Salud.”

  They raised their glasses.

  “To my new Spanish family.”

  “Yes. I think this makes you my daughter, Jenny.”

  After his momentous and theatrical reading of the will, José Luis had taken up a couple of financial statements. He explained that Charlie’s fortune in Spain was tied up in the house and all the surrounding land and the cash and deposits in his bank accounts.

  “The properties are owned by a Luxembourg Corporation, so they are virtually free of inheritance tax. They are also easier to transfer, we just transfer the shares. The bank accounts are at the Banco de Iberia, in Marbella. We know them very well, so there is no problem in dealing with the transfer of ownership.

  “So,” he finished, “all of this makes it very simple to settle the estate. Charlie has prepared his affairs in his usual competent and efficient manner.”

  The lawyer studied the papers again. “In the Banco de Iberia accounts, there is a total of about eight million Euros. Charlie liquidated all of his investments over the last few months. He was convinced that there would be a major crash. Everything is now in cash and deposits, as you can see from these statements.

  “You’ll need to take your time to decide what you want to do about the house and lands and we can discuss it again later. I would estimate the overall value of the property at fifteen to twenty million. In any case it will take me a little while to process the necessary documents with the notary. Meanwhile, if you need funds or anything else, I can arrange this by my position as executor.”

  Once again they both sat in silence, Leticia stunned by the amount of their inheritance and Jenny still stunned by the news of Charlie and Leticia.

  Now,” José Luis continued, “I believe that there may be other assets. For example, I think that there may be bank accounts in Switzerland. But I would prefer not to be informed about them. It would just complicate my declarations for tax purposes. That is something for you to resolve.

  “I can provide you with any documents you may need to assist you in the event that you do discover such accounts, or any other assets outside of Spain, of which I am unaware.” He looked at the two women, waiting for their nodded assent.

  He handed the second envelope to Jenny. “This is from your father-in-law. I hope it’s something good, something to bring you happiness and peace in your life.”

  Finally, he took both women’s hands in his. “I have one last thing to say. Don’t forget that I am always here, as I have been for the last thirty years. I will see you at the funeral, but don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything at all. And now it’s time for you to go and enjoy your lunch together. Time to celebrate your good fortune.”

  With that he accompanied them to the door and they stepped out into the hot, busy street, feeling as if they were waking from a dream.

  Jenny realised her life had changed irreversibly since that morning. In addition to the problem of Leticia and Emilio, there was the money. A great deal of money. Even if the properties were worth only fifteen million, the estate was worth more than twenty million Euros. She had just inherited over ten million Euros and there could be more in Switzerland! Who could possibly need so much? Certainly not her. And where did all that money come from?

  When her father had been imprisoned for embezzlement, when they lost the big house and expensive cars, when her mother divorced him and they had to move into a tiny flat on a housing estate in Sunderland, she had heard a saying for the first time, ‘behind every fortune there’s a crime’. She shivered, thinking about Charlie’s and Ron’s deaths. I wonder what crime is waiting to be discovered?

  There was nothing she could do about it, so she would just have to get used to it. Better to start start right away, she thought. She opened up the envelope while they sipped their wine. There was a single sheet of paper, dated February 26th 2008, printed out in dark blue text on a computer printer. She read it out aloud.

  Dear Jenny,

  This is the second note I have written. First to Ron and now, since José Luis has delivered it to you, it must be that my days are over and you and Leticia and then Emilio, will succeed me. If I have seemed unloving or aloof with you in the past, I am sorry for that. I’m afraid that apart from Ellen, and then Leticia, I haven’t been lucky in my life with close relationships. I would like you to know that I wish we could have been closer, but it would have been too complicated for me.

  Jenny, I am sorry that you lost Ron, as I lost Ellen and I hope that you will find someone else, as I found Leticia. She is a wonderfully loving and positive force of nature and I hope you will let some of her happiness rub off on you. You haven’t had much of that and you deserve some.

  Please look after her and my son, Emilio, for me, Jenny. She is clever, but still young and unsure, inexperienced in her ways. She will need your guiding hand for a while. Just keep following the trail together. I promise you that the end is worth the journey.

  I wish you and Leticia and Emilio a long and happy life. Your loving father-in-law, Charlie.

  Underneath the signature there appeared several more lines:

  Laptop password:

  Emilio_ 1975.

  My Computer:

  VAIO (C).

  File:

  Documents and Settings.

  Password:

  Middlesbrough

  Sub file:

  CB Private.

  Password:

  Ellen_1969

  Word document:

  Angolan Clan.

  Password:

  cascais.

  The two women looked quizzically at each other as the waiter brought their meal.

  “What does all that mean?” Leticia asked.

  “I don’t know, but let’s leave that for this afternoon, now it’s lunch.” Jenny called the waiter back. “Two more glasses of wine please.”

  FIFTEEN

  Wednesday, April 16th, 2008

  Malaga, Spain

  Like most places in central Malaga, the Direccion General De La Policia, in the Calle José Iturbi, was quite close, so Francisco walked them through the bustling streets in the warm afternoon sunshine. Chief Inspector Espinoza’s office was on the third floor and they were shown into a large room with a linoleum floor and at least a dozen metal filing cabinets. The office smelled faintly of carbolic soap.

  The policeman was a surprisingly small man of about fifty. Full of nervous energy, he paced up and down his office, repeatedly removing and replacing his spectacles as he talked. He had red hair, which Jenny had never seen in a Spaniard, and which looked at odds with the smart blue uniform he had donned for the meeting. A holster at his waist conta
ined a pistol and she wondered fleetingly if it was loaded. English policemen didn’t carry weapons and she couldn’t help comparing him with Sergeant Harris, the gentle giant.

  He introduced himself as the head of the Homicide squad, responsible for the Malaga and Marbella region. Like José Luis, he had a large dossier lying open on his desk, this one a buff colour, labelled, Charles W. Bishop. 13/04/08.

  “There is no need to identify the body, Señora Bishop.” (He had ignored Jenny’s usual plea to drop the formalities.) “We have already received all necessary information about Sr. Bishop. As far as the death is concerned, this seems to be a tragic accident, since the post mortem showed no evidence of foul play. We can find no trace of any intervention in the house or gardens. In addition, the house has a security camera at the gates and a CCTV system around the walls and there is no record of any intrusion.”

  Jenny nodded gratefully at the police officer, relieved that she didn’t have to go through the same procedure as she had after Ron’s death. It was too traumatic to contemplate.

  “I have only a couple of questions to ask you, to… I would say… settle my mind about the death of Sr. Bishop, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t think I can help you, Chief Inspector, but I’ll do my best.”

  The policeman sat at his desk, removed his glasses, placed them carefully in front of him and paused for a moment. Then he asked “Sra. Bishop, can you think of anyone who would benefit from the death of your husband or his father, or both? Can you think of anyone who had a grudge, or any kind of an enemy of either of them?”

  Jenny was thunderstruck. She thought that she had finished coping with Ron’s death, but now she was faced with a suggestion that it might not have been an accident. That it might be linked to Charlie’s death That there might have been a motive. Fears that she had pushed away returned to her mind, like waking after one of her dreams. Everything happens for a purpose. She sat very still, her face blanched and Leticia put out her hand to hold her shoulder. Francisco looked at her with concern and then at Espinoza. They all waited quietly.

  She breathed deeply, therapy style, pulling her thoughts together and trying to consider all of the aspects of the question before replying.

  “Chief Inspector, I cannot imagine any connection between the two deaths. My husband was the victim of…” She took another deep breath, “a cowardly hit and run driver. This was last December, on a dark, rainy night in Ipswich. The driver has never been found, but I have always assumed that it was an accident caused by someone who was drunk or stupid and too cowardly to come forward. The police have come to that same conclusion. Ron had no debts, no enemies, or even unhappy customers. And apart from me, there was no one who could possibly benefit from his death.”

  The policeman nodded, replaced his glasses and made some notes in the file.

  She paused again and considered the little she knew about Charlie, his life and his death. “As far as my father-in-law is concerned. First, I don’t believe that he had many friends, but I don’t think he had any enemies either. He was not a bad person, he was only a little unsociable. As a matter of fact, he and my husband didn’t get on at all. They had been more or less estranged for many years.

  “Next, Leticia and I have just been with Sr. Ramirez and it seems that we and his son, Emilio, are the only people who will benefit from his death. He was a wealthy man and there is no evidence of any debts, or other problems of any kind. Then, you have also told us that you believe it to be an accident since there were no other indications. So I can’t see why you would imagine that it was not an accident, nor how an accident in his pool in Marbella on Sunday could be connected with a drunken driver in Ipswich last December.”

  Jenny sat back in the hard office chair. Her head was aching, whether because of the wine, or the emotional exhaustion of delving into her most intimate fears, or perhaps both.

  “Yes, well, it’s exactly what is supported by our own investigation.” Espinoza looked disappointed. He closed the dossier and removed his spectacles. “I don’t think the police can do any more in this matter, Sra. Bishop, and I will not be requesting an inquest. Thank you for coming here so promptly and I apologise if it has been a trying experience for you.”

  There was a sudden lightening in the highly charged atmosphere. Jenny breathed out deeply, as if she had just run a marathon. “Chief Inspector, thank you for your concern and for the time and effort you have invested into this matter. I’m glad that we agree on the outcome.”

  He nodded politely. “Sra. Bishop.”

  Francisco said, “We need to arrange for Sr. Bishop’s funeral. Can we plan it for Friday?”

  The police officer shook his head. “That’s impossible Francisco. The magistrate will only rule on my recommendation tomorrow and the paperwork has to be done. As soon as I get the go-ahead, I will issue instructions to release Mr. Bishop’s body. I suggest you arrange the funeral for Monday. Give me the details and I’ll see that everything is done in time.”

  He opened the door. “Señoras, thank you for coming to see me and please try to put these matters behind you now. You have been through enough trying times.” He handed a card to each of them. “If you remember anything further in connection with this matter, or you ever need to get in touch with me, you have my contact numbers here.”

  As they walked back to the car park to retrieve the Mercedes, Francisco sympathised with Jenny. “It must have been difficult for you to discuss those sad events.”

  Jenny wanted to talk about anything but the last half hour. “Where did you learn to speak so well in both Spanish and English? Have you lived in the States?”

  “Well, I was born in California, but my father’s Columbian and my mom’s American. She wanted to speak his language, so I started out in Spanish. Then I studied modern languages at Berkeley and added a bit of French. I got my law degree in Washington DC and practised for a while in New York. I had some international clients, so I was able to keep up my languages.

  “When I arrived in Madrid three years ago,” he continued, “I met a girl who came from Malaga, so by the time I came to work for José Luis last year I spoke like a true Andalucian.”

  “So you’re married now?” Jenny immediately regretted the question. It sounded to her own ears almost like a proposition.

  Fransico shrugged. “Unfortunately not. Girlfriends and studying tax law are not really compatible. And now I’m travelling such a lot for the firm. But there’s plenty of time for that.”

  They arrived at the parking and the lawyer left them, promising to call the next day with details of the funeral.

  Their drive back to Marbella was more subdued than their departure that morning. Both women were silent, trying to come to terms with these changes in their lives. Regretfully putting the past in its place and cautiously looking forward to the future.

  Jenny looked out at the vast amount of development that was taking place on either side of the motorway. Villas and apartments were springing up like mushrooms in the midst of bare, brown areas of earth, presumably destined to be golf courses and country clubs. There seemed to be thousands of unfinished dwellings in various stages of construction. Some looked fully completed, others were half-built. Many more were barely started, just concrete frameworks, like skeletons sticking out of desolate tracts of land. They were surrounded by pieces of every conceivable kind of construction equipment, standing idle, or lying where they had been thrown. Like sleeping creatures waiting to be woken up, ready to attack the defenceless earth.

  They’re destroying this lovely coastline, just for profit, she thought to herself. But who on earth is going to buy all that property? She closed her eyes and rested as Leticia drove them back to York House.

  Chief Inspector Espinoza called his secretary into his office. He was going to dictate a recommendation to the examining magistrate not to arrange an inquest and he wasn’t happy.

  He reflected on the interview with Sra Bishop, especially remembering the poi
nts he hadn’t mentioned to her. The tyre tracks in the dried mud at the edge of the forest path behind the Bishop’s house and the footprints through the trees to the perimeter wall. The same mud was found on the wall itself and there was a footprint on the branch of a tree just inside the property. But the police had no idea when those tracks had been left, nor by whom. The weather had been dry and sunny for the last week, so they could have been several days old. In addition, Juan had hosed down the stone staircase before the police had the chance to cordon it off, so there were no prints or mud to be found on the steps.

  Further investigation of the tyre marks and footprints had produced nothing. The tyres were well worn. A popular, inexpensive make and available from just about every garage. There must have been hundreds of thousands of them in the Costas. The shoes were from one of the big chains of stores and just as unidentifiable.

  The questioning of Juan and Leticia had also proved fruitless and apparently no one had been in the area on that Sunday morning. Nobody had seen anything at all. No suspicious or unusual cars, people, noises or events. The investigation had come to a full stop, a dead end. But despite the lack of any real evidence, he had been a policeman too long to ignore his instincts and they told him there was something he was missing. But he had nothing to go on. Nothing at all.

  His secretary arrived and he started to dictate from his notes. He wanted to get it done and out of the way before he changed his mind.