Under Suspicion

by The Mulgray Twins

  ‘I’ve a pile of paperwork this high on my desk that’ll keep me here to the end of the week. It’ll give me time to pop in and see Jason. I hear he’s a bit down, so I’ve got something that will—’

  Perleep perleep perleep peep peep.

  I fished my mobile out of my bag. What now? Couldn’t a girl have some time off?

  ‘Deborah? Hello, dear. It’s Victoria. I’ve been away all weekend, on a last tour round the island to see if there’s anything to match El Sooeno. But you know how it is when you’ve set your heart on something. There was nothing, nothing at all.’ A wistful sigh whispered down the line.

  ‘I really am sorry, Victoria.’ And I was. It’s so lonely without Jack, she’d said. El Sueño had been her dream home, a place to find happiness again with grandchildren and a friend or two…

  ‘Reception gave me your note, dear. I’m so glad everything’s all right. And I’d just love to join you and your friend. I’ll be right down.’

  ‘Looking forward to seeing you, Victoria.’ I stowed away my phone.

  Charlie pursed her lips. ‘What’s that little frown for, DJ? Something wrong?’

  ‘Her heart’s still set on El Sueño. I wish there was something I could do.’

  ‘I think you’re on to a loser there.’ Charlie made little circles on the terracotta tiles with the toe of her Roman sandal, sending the tuft of fetchingly bizarre bird feathers that dangled from her pearl anklet fluttering and swooping as if in flight. ‘Vanheusen’s busted. His assets will be frozen, so…’

  I stared thoughtfully at the droplets of moisture beading the cava bottle. ‘…So once the law steps in, it’ll be too late to do anything. Yes, tonight’s the last chance for me to—’ I stood up and waved. ‘Over here, Victoria.’

  While she settled herself on the wrought-iron chair and placed her handbag on the floor, I filled up her glass.

  ‘I just wanted to say goodbye, Victoria, and thank you for telling Charlie that I was missing. A piece of my windsurfer broke off in the heavy seas, and if the coastguard hadn’t turned up, it would have been very nasty. So I’m very grateful to you both.’ I raised my glass in a toast.

  ‘Glad everything’s turned out all right, dear.’ We clinked glasses. ‘Isn’t it lucky that I got back in time for this little get-together. I would have been here earlier, but I called in at Exclusive’s offices to see if that Reservation Contract, or whatever the term is, had timed itself out.’ She picked up her glass of cava, and put it down again. ‘Monique Devereux was there, doing some paperwork. She apologised for Mr Vanheusen not being available. In conference, she said.’

  ‘Ptschchchchh,’ Charlie spluttered, wiping her eyes. ‘Yes, he’s in conference all right. In conference with the police. Ptschchchchh.’

  ‘The police?’ Victoria’s eyes widened. ‘Has there been a robbery?’

  I leant over and thumped Charlie’s back. ‘Something a bit more serious, I’m afraid. Exclusive’s under investigation and Mr Vanheusen’s been arrested. Financial matters, I understand.’

  ‘Mr Vanheusen’s in prison? Oh dear.’ Victoria took a gulp from her glass and was silent for a long moment. Then, ‘This may sound a trifle selfish, Deborah, but does this mean that El Sooeno will come on the market again?’

  I sighed. ‘I can’t say, Victoria, but in these cases the assets are usually frozen. Financial matters can drag on and on, you know.’

  Charlie swirled her glass. ‘And if the case is proved, our Mr V will be out of circulation for a long, long time. I guess he’ll find the accommodation Her Majesty provides is a bit more spartan than on that fancy yacht of his.’ She took a cautious sip. ‘I’ve heard prison meals can be quite good nowadays, but there’ll be no more caviar for him.’

  ‘Or that thoroughly spoilt Persian cat of his,’ I added.

  ‘A Persian? I’ve always wanted one of those, but Jack was allergic to long-haired cats…’ A faraway look came into Victoria’s eyes. ‘If Mr Vanheusen goes to prison, what will happen to the cat?’

  I hadn’t thought of that. ‘They don’t have cat and dog homes here, but I think there’s a couple of animal sanctuaries.’

  ‘It won’t take kindly to a cage and consorting with common moggies, will it? The cat’s a pedigree, and used to swanning round that villa and yacht of his.’ Egalitarian Charlie seemed quite unsympathetic.

  ‘If it’s lucky, someone might think to put it in a sanctuary. Otherwise…’ I couldn’t get out of my mind a trembling and bedraggled Black Prince looking up at me with huge frightened eyes. ‘C’mon, Charlie, he’s a changed animal since he nearly drowned, quite timid and well…er…cuddly.’

  ‘Ha, ha.’ Charlie set down her glass with a thump. ‘Don’t set me off again, DJ.’

  ‘Nearly drowned! The poor thing! And it’ll be so missing its master.’ Victoria looked quite upset. ‘It’s a pity I’m flying home on Friday. If only I’d been able to stay here in Tenerife, I’d have given it a home.’

  I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to raise false hopes, but I was kicking an idea around in my head. There was just a chance…

  The Policía National in Santa Cruz is situated on the stately Avenida Tres de Mayo, just up from the flowing white curves of Calatrava’s auditorium and the modern three-level Titsa bus station. But unlike the Policía Locale opposite, which shouts its identity in a flourish of flags and letters nearly a metre tall, the National Police HQ lurks discreetly. No signs or notices advertise its presence. Only two storeys of a stone-block building peep over the three-metre-high roughcast wall; the lower windows are heavily grilled, the upper row protected by closed metal shutters. If Gerry hadn’t given me precise directions, I’d have driven straight past.

  ‘There’s an underground car park with an entrance on the avenida, but the gate will be shut,’ he’d said. ‘You’ll have to drive round the corner to the main gate.’

  What he hadn’t said was that the main gate also shunned the limelight. It was set in high walls taking up the right-hand side of a narrow residential side street of bijou houses, each with its pillared porch and tiny, neat garden, each with its carefully chosen cactus, bougainvillea or agave plant.

  After checking my papers at the barred gate with its Portakabin-style guardhouse, the uniformed guard admitted me to a central courtyard full of cars and unmarked vans. I’d anticipated some difficulty in arranging access to Vanheusen, but I’d told Gerry firmly that he owed it to me to pull a few strings, and he’d raised an eyebrow but no objections, so fifteen minutes after threading my way through the cars, I was face to face with Ambrose himself.

  He looked up as I was ushered into a sparsely furnished room, very different from the sumptuous surroundings of Samarkand Princess. Beneath the slowly revolving blades of the ceiling fan, Exclusive’s millionaire boss was sitting on a hard wooden chair drawn up to a cheap plastic-topped table. Santa Cruz Police HQ funds, it seemed, did not run to white leather state-of-the-art swivel chairs with pop-out drinks tray. The only things that swivelled were his eyes. After a quick glance at me, they slewed away and focused on the boots of the policeman standing beside the door.

  I drew up a chair. ‘Hello, Ambrose. Monique wasn’t allowed to come, so she asked me to find out if there’s anything…’

  He looked at me, thumb stroking his upper lip in that familiar gesture, eyes calculating, assessing. How was he going to play it?

  ‘All this is a complete misunderstanding, Deborah.’ Said with a wry smile. ‘Some kind of stupid foul-up, but my lawyers are confident that they’ll soon have me out of here.’

  He was polishing his brass neck, as Charlie would have put it. GRECO, the Spanish unit set up to combat major organised crime, had opposed bail, and HM Government would certainly be seeking his extradition.

  ‘But enough of my temporary little difficulties.’ He flicked a hand as if brushing away an annoying insect, and leant back. ‘How did that board of mine handle on your run to Las Américas?’ He certainly believed in polishing that bras
s neck.

  I took my cue from him. ‘It handled wonderfully. Best board I’ve ever tried, but…’ I inserted a wobble into my voice. ‘I don’t know how to tell you this, but I had an accident and if a fishing boat hadn’t come along… I don’t remember much about it as I was a bit concussed, but I’m afraid your board’s been lost at sea. I’m awfully sorry, Ambrose…’ I trailed off with an embarrassed half-smile.

  Relief flickered in the depths of those pale blue eyes. ‘You had an accident with the board? Well, I did say to you that it was a bit unwise to attempt a solo run to Los Cristianos.’ He reached across the table and patted my hand. ‘But there, there, don’t you worry about that, Deborah. As long as you’re safe, that’s what really matters.’

  It’s difficult to sound suitably grateful when someone who’s tried to kill you expresses concern about your welfare, but I managed it. ‘That’s very generous of you Ambrose. I feel bad about it, though. It was a really expensive board.’ I hesitated. Now to make my play. ‘I don’t want to add to your worries when you’re in a spot of bother but, as I said, Monique sent me. She’s worried about Black Prince. If you’re, er…detained for any length of time, she says he’ll have to be put into an animal sanctuary.’

  ‘No!’ The flat of his hand crashed down on the table.

  I flinched. The policeman took a warning step forward. A silence fell. I let it draw out.

  After a few moments I heaved an insincere sigh. ‘I do so wish I could look after him myself, but I’ve just heard that headquarters are sending me to South America. I’m quite looking forward to it, actually. I’ll have similar accommodation arrangements to here, I believe, so I won’t have to worry about Persepolis. It’ll be absolutely marvellous to make short trips into the rain forest to see the rare gorgonzolias growing in the wild!’ (Jayne would have been proud of me.) I flashed him an apologetic smile. ‘Oh dear, sorry for babbling on like this.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said, his thoughts elsewhere.

  It was time for my trump card. ‘Is there nobody you can trust to look after him? Somebody who breeds Persians, perhaps? But then you’ve got to be to be so careful that they don’t take advantage, haven’t you?’ A strategic pause to let him work it out. ‘You know what I mean?’ My raised eyebrow indicated the danger of unauthorised little Black Prince scions.

  ‘It’s worrying, yes.’ A tightening of his lips indicated that I’d hit my target.

  ‘It’s such a pity Victoria’s flying home on Friday,’ I sighed. ‘She’d have been just the person…a cat lover, so motherly.’

  ‘Victoria?’

  ‘Victoria Knight. She’s the current client who was very keen to purchase El Sueño. She was so disappointed when she heard there was another buyer.’

  ‘Ah yes. I remember.’ His eyes flicked away.

  ‘She could have looked after The Prince for you. He’d have felt so much at home in El Sueño. Just the other day she was telling me about the Persians she’s cared for over the years.’ I was bending the truth a little. The only Persians she’d cared for, to be honest, were of the carpet variety. ‘They were just pets, of course. She’s never had any contact with breeders. Such a pity she wasn’t able to purchase the property.’

  ‘No contact with breeders…El Sueño…’ He looked thoughtful.

  I nudged things along a little. ‘When Monique heard that you’d…er…been taken here, her first thought was to collect Black Prince from the yacht, but for some reason the police wouldn’t let her on board. They told her the cat had been dashing in a panic all over the ship and they’d put him in a cat-carrier. He’s here now at HQ. I suppose you could say he’s been arrested.’ The word ‘too’ hung in the air between us.

  He stared down at the scratched and scuffed surface of the table, muttering to himself, ‘El Sueño… have to be tonight.’

  ‘And Persian coats get so tangled, don’t they? It’s so painful for them if they’re not groomed for a couple of days. I asked after him when I arrived here, and it seems,’ I sighed, ‘that The Prince is pining, not taking at all well to the cat-carrier.’ I let that sink in. ‘They’re talking of sending him to an animal sanctuary – only till you’re out and about again, of course.’

  I’d played all my cards. I waited. Overhead the fan performed slow gyrations, stirring the hair on the top of my head. In the silence I heard the creak of leather as the police guard shifted position.

  ‘Let me see…’ He pursed his lips. ‘I believe that the Reservation Contract on El Sueño expired yesterday afternoon. The chap said he’d other commitments now. So it would be available.’

  I piled on the pressure. ‘What a pity she didn’t know that. On the rebound from her disappointment over El Sueño she’s settled for a villa on the Costa del Sol. She’s signed the Offer to Buy, and the Reservation Contract and all that. The only consolation, she said, was that she’d be paying £800,000 for that villa instead of £1.5 million for El Sueño.’ I pursed my lips. ‘She’ll be saving such a lot of money that she’ll probably not change her mind.’ A turn of the screw. ‘Especially as there’d be the contract cancellation costs too…’

  Another little frown from Ambrose. Had I overplayed my hand?

  Just when I thought I’d blown it, he capitulated. ‘If she agreed to take on the care of The Prince, Exclusive could match that price.’

  Neither of us commented on the implication that Black Prince’s residence at El Sueño was going to be somewhat protracted.

  Tomorrow’s court order would freeze his assets. I’d have to make it easy for him to press me to act tonight. I pushed back my chair. ‘Well, I’ll certainly put that to her on Thursday when I take her to the airport.’

  He stood up, sending his chair clattering to the floor. The guard took a couple of steps forward.

  ‘The Prince means so much to me. He mustn’t suffer a moment longer.’ He gripped the edge of the table. ‘If you’ve a pen and piece of paper handy, I’ll write a note to Monique. That agreement has to be signed tonight, Deborah.’

  I almost felt sorry for him. ‘I’ll see to it, Ambrose. I know just how you’re feeling. I’d be the same with Persepolis. Tell you what, if you give me a note for the comandante, I’ll take Black Prince away with me now.’

  When I phoned him, Gerry sighed and pulled a few more strings. And ten minutes after that, I was crossing the courtyard car park of Policía National, Santa Cruz. In my hand was the cat-carrier and its trembling occupant; in my pocket, Ambrose’s handwritten note, the passport to happiness for Victoria.

  Epilogue

  I pushed open the door of Jason’s room in the clinica and peered in. He was lying propped up on pillows, face pale, dark circles under his eyes. Over the worst, they’d said, but he had a long way to go. In Gerry’s opinion, he needed cheering up, and here I was to do just that.

  ‘Hi there, Jase,’ I said.

  He raised a hand in greeting, his smile a shadow of the much-exercised playboy grin.

  I perched on the edge of the bed. ‘Remember that bet we had? I’m here to deliver.’

  He frowned. ‘Bet?’

  ‘I owed you two kisses, remember?’

  ‘Ready when you are, Debs.’ I caught the gleam in his eye, the first sign of my old Don Juan Jason.

  He wasn’t exactly in prime fettle, so I didn’t have to put up with too much of the lingering tongue-in-the-mouth stuff.

  At length I broke away. ‘Not bad, Jase, for someone in a hospital bed.’ I gently removed a wandering hand. ‘And now—’ I went to the door and opened it. ‘There’s another lady outside waiting to meet you.’ I reached into my bag and pressed the remote control.

  From the corridor came a long-drawn-out mi-aa-oow.

  Framed in the doorway were the stumpy ears and grotesque square head of Robocat.

  ‘Brunhilda!’

  I squeezed another button on the remote control. The beast emitted a deep rolling purrrr and bounded forward.

  The look on Jason’s face more than compensated
for that rather large sum of money I’d had to fork out to repair G’s handiwork.

  I spent the rest of the day cleaning Calle Rafael Alberti, numero 2 and disposing of perishables to Jesús and the rubbish bin.

  A few more items and I’d have finished the packing. I held up a pair of faded jeans, a parting gift from Charlie. Slashed with horizontal slits all the way down the legs, I just couldn’t see myself wearing them.

  ‘They’re the cutting-edge of fashion. Time you entered the twenty-first century, Debs,’ she’d giggled.

  Maybe I should give them a try. I placed them in the case and closed down the lid.

  It was almost time to go. I hauled out the cat-carrier from where I’d stowed it in the wardrobe, out of sight, out of the feline mind.

  ‘You’re not going to like this, G,’ I muttered, ‘but there’s one more bit of packing to do. And it’s you.’

  A well-established routine of Cajolery, Pleading and Bribery would be needed to persuade her into the cat-carrier. All three stages were a prerequisite. I’d asked Jesús to soften her up with the long-drawn-out quavering notes of his madrelena, and now, ready to cajole, cat-carrier in hand, I stepped out onto the patio.

  Eeeee…aa…eee… Aaaah…aa…eeee… The undulating wails of the madrelena fretted the wall and zigzagged away into the night sky.

  I’d miss Jesús, but not that droning off-key dirge. G would, though. She was lying on the bench under the papery bracts of the bougainvillea, paws limp, eyes half-closed. Smiling ingratiatingly, I put the cat-carrier down beside her.

  She lazily stretched a leg and flexed her claws.

  Eeeee…aa…eee… Aaaah…aa…eeee… Jesús was in fine voice tonight.

  I unlatched the carrier. ‘Lovely soft blanket in here, G,’ I coaxed. ‘In you get.’

  She yawned sleepily and made no move to obey. To hell with all this craven buttering-up, I made a grab.