Bacchus and Sanderson (Deceased) (25 page)

William knew he had been hard on Annabel. Their conversation after Ben had left was short, very short. He had wanted, demanded to know why she hadn’t thought it appropriate to mention that her father was a shareholder in the company they were investigating. The company now headed by Felicity? The company they were trying to prove had been implicated in his father’s death and the death of an uncle he had never known? And Uncle Freddie. Bishop to both of them a friend, no good friend to him, but to Annabel; Uncle Freddie. One salient point that perhaps she had forgotten was that regardless of how Freddie chose to invest his money; he was still a Bishop, a church leader who should be more aware of the consequences of his actions. William winced remembering Annabel’s counter.

“Does that mean by association, my family are accessories to murder, unaware of the consequences of their actions?”

              Annabel had stormed out of the shop and up Long Street with William watching from the office window until she was out of sight.

              His anger wasn’t aimed at Annabel even though she had borne the brunt of it, he was furious with Ernest. How can, during forty years of research, he not have discovered the shareholdings of Freddie and Annabel’s father in the company he was investigating? He needed to ask Ernest a few telling questions and find out whether this was laziness, poor research or stupidity. William fed Wooster poured himself a large glass of Bells and then settled down to wait.

              He had trusted Ernest implicitly. That had taken a huge leap of faith, but the man was his father and Ben was his brother. So he had taken everything on trust and believed. He had thrown himself into the search for killers, murderers without a second thought. Had he been foolish? Everything he had seen so far showed Ernest to be a solid researcher with a flair for thinking in an unorthodox way. Now this. The list of shareholders was, on its own, irrelevant. What was relevant were the people who were on the list. John Anderson was a middle-class engineer with a few shares in an engineering company. So what? The problem was that he had bought the shares on the same day as another investor, Frederick Aldhelm, his brother in law and the Bishop of Salisbury and that the shares had started a meteoric climb to there current level the following week.

              Ernest’s voice sounded in his head causing William to start out of his reverie and focus.

Straight away, Ernest began bombarding William with questions,

“What progress have you made with the documents? Have you any thoughts? What about Ben and Annabel? Where are they?”

William ignored him, staying silent and still. Ernest noticed he hadn’t had a response and asked Juanita,

“Is he asleep?”

Juanita said

“William?”

William look up at the ceiling, eyes closed, taking deep controlled breaths before saying,

“Does the name John Alexander ring any bells? Or Freddie Aldhelm maybe? What did you discover about CHC from the directors listing at companie
s
’ house? Any of this rings any bells?”

William’s eyes were still closed and looking at the ceiling, he sat and waited for the now familiar sound of Ernest or Juanita’s voice in his head. Nothing. At last Ernest spoke.

“I assume there’s a point to this? Whatever that point is seems to have made you angry with me.” The sarcasm dripping from his words irritated William more than he expected.

“John Alexander is Annabel’s father, but you know that as your adopted sister was married to him. He is also a non-executive director and holder of a large enough shareholding to be mentioned in the companies annual report. Bishop Freddie is another non-executive director and also related by marriage to you. John Alexander’s sister was Georgia, but again you knew that. How on earth did you miss this? What else have you missed? Do I have to question everything you’ve given me to work with?”

Juanita said,

“Look into the mirror William, you need to see Ernest while he talks to you.”

              William got up, still angry with Ernest, but also wondering if he was being fair. Annabel hadn’t known anything about her father or Freddie, so feeling angry with her was unfair and counterproductive. Ernest’s oversight was unfortunate, but was it any more than that? Did the discovery of this connection between CHC and people they knew and cared for affect what they were trying to do?

He stared at the mirror watching as his own features metamorphosed into Ernest’s handsome face.

“William, you have every right to be angry and concerned. It was sloppy and careless. At the time I was looking at CHC in detail, Jess became ill. I took my eye off the ball and concentrated on the woman I loved. Why I didn’t go back and review what I had done I don’t know. If I had then I would perhaps have seen that I had missed vital information. I have always been meticulous, or so I thought. Now you’ve shown you’re good at this get back to it.”

William’s features returned to normal and he turned and went back into the lounge. He picked up his iPhone to call Annabel when he heard Ernest speaking again.

“I’m not happy that you are allowing my son, your brother, to associate with a Cortez. It could be a fishing trip designed to get information about our investigation. It could be anything.”

“Perhaps she can offer proof that Jonas was murdered by her grandfather. Both Annabel and I are keeping a close eye on her and Ben. Let’s see if she is sincere or if this is as you say fishing trip.”

“Okay,” Ernest said, “let’s wait and see.”

***

              The gym that CHC Industries provided for its executives, on the 41
st
floor of its building, was state of the art. The equipment, upgraded annually, exceeded what was available in all but the facilities used by professional athletes. A perk that the board directors needed to keep extra pounds from already expanding waistlines and to help them cope with the overwhelming stress that working for CHC involved. Felicity often used the gym before her working days began. She liked the solitude and the opportunity to think through the day problems and organise herself before the other executives struggled in at around eight o’clock in the morning.

              Today was different. She was juggling so many metaphorical balls, that she needed this time to analyse what she needed to do and what she could hive off to Thrasher and her PA, Jonathan. Today looked to be a day that would require her complete focus. A degree of focus that she was struggling with. Looking at herself in the floor to ceiling mirrors on the back wall of the gym, she wondered for the hundredth time if she was succumbing to the mental illness that her mother had suffered from.

              The voices had plagued her a couple of times. An insidious pleading for help from the hereafter that she had ignored. Voices in your head can only mean one thing; incipient madness. Like her mother. The nagging doubt she harboured; was that the voice purporting to be her grandfather Charles knew too much personal detail. Too many pieces of information that the voice could only have known if it had been there. Googling voices had offered every possible resource from mental health to voice coaching and voice over talent for commercials.               She moved to the cross trainer to finish her workout with a frenetic fifteen minutes accompanied by David Guetta, Will.I.Am and Queen. The intensity of the exercise blocked everything apart from the beat of the music and the rhythmic whooshing of the equipment.

“Good morning Felicity. Still enjoying the gym? Never could understand your fascination with sweaty, but there you are. Generational thing I expect. To business. Your help is needed, or it would be more accurate to say that my assistance is required by you. You have yet to acknowledge it, but that’s just a Felicity thing.”

              Felicity had kept the cross trainer whirring, a blur as she pushed herself harder and harder refusing to acknowledge the voice in her head. Pushing a button on the handle of the cross trainer she increased the volume of music pouring out of the speakers. ‘Titanium’ reverberated around the walls of the gym, Felicity looked into the full-length mirror, smiled, and continued with her work out.

              A whispered voice inside her head said, “You can’t block out voices that emanate from within. We have to talk, we will talk.”

              Felicity slowed the machine down and pressed the button on the handle to reduce the music to a normal level. She walked over to the expanse of glass that encased three sides of the gym, offering a view of London that exceeded what could be seen from the top of the London Eye. She stared, expressionless, at St Paul’s Cathedral and beyond. Reaching into the pocket of her workout bag she took a packet of cigarettes, shook one out and lit it with her Dunhill lighter. Turning back to the window, she smoked her cigarette.

              Helena hissed at Charles, “What is wrong with the snotty bitch? You’re not connecting; she’s ignoring you again. We aren’t leaving without her acquiescence. I warned you Charles, if she won’t see reason then she’ll see me and perhaps a snippet from our tableaux?”

Thinking hard Charles ignored Helena; blocking out her threats and concentrating on the woman in the room below him. Realisation of the approach he needed caused a wry smile to flicker across his face.  Infuriated Helena snarled at him “What? What? Do you believe you have anything to smile about? What?”

Charles turned and spoke
,
“
Can she see me?”

Helena looked at him not comprehending his meaning, “You’re floating forty floors above London,” Helena swooped down and stood in front of Felicity, shaking a hand if front of her face. Continuing, “She is unaware that we are here. I could float through her” Helena slides through Felicity from front to back, “Check on breakfast” Helena puts her hands above her head as if about to dive and whooshes up nostril and reappears a moment later from the other, shuddering. Before Helena could continue with her playacting Charles interrupted her flow,

“I realise she can’t see me, at the moment. But can you arrange it so that she can see me?”

“Ah yes, clever, very clever. Of course. We need to stand her in front of a mirror and have her concentrate. Can she concentrate?”

Charles thought for a moment and replied,

“Seems a bit small scale, can’t we do something a little grander a little more…” He struggled to find the word he was looking for to describe his vision.

“Dramatic?”

Helena smiled in appreciation, “A dramatic tableau to scare her?”

Charles smiled and shook his head, “No, not scare, impress. Felicity loves to be impressed. Every one of her boyfriends has impressed her in some way and so ended up in her bed. It’s her one failing.”

              Helena looked down at Felicity staring out of the window smoking, “Ready?” she said to Charles. He nodded. Helena flicked a hand upward to shoulder level and then down to waist level.

              The effect was instantaneous Charles’s face filled all of the vertical surfaces in the room. The mirrors, windows and doors had transformed from a hard clinical white to show his tanned skin tones, silver hair and bright blue eyes. Felicity stood still cigarette still in her hand, staring. She swivelled on the toes of her gym shoes taking in the transformation of the room, smiling.

              A door opened on the far side and a young middle ranking executive walked in to begin his workout. He wandered over to the benches on the opposite side of the room not noticing anything out of the ordinary. Looking up and seeing Felicity he nodded and said, “Good morning” Felicity, still smiling, looked at the young man and said, “Get out”

He looked at her confused not moving. She repeated what she had said, this time shouting
,
“
Get out, NOW!” The smile was still on her face as he grabbed his bag and ran out of the room.

“Hello Felicity. If Mohammed wouldn’t come to the mountain…we do need to talk and you need to listen.”

The reply made him smile too. “Impressive, very impressive. Your spook knows her shit doesn’t she. Can we tone it back to just the mirrors if this conversation is going to be longer than thirty seconds? Too much Charles is giving me a migraine.”

Charles looked at Helena with a certain smugness and raised his eyebrows at her.

”Can you?” he said to Helena. The multiple images faded leaving white walls, white doors and clear windows. The floor to ceiling mirrors remained containing Charles smiling face. The smile faded as he looked out at her and began.

“You, my dear have a problem. William Bacchus is continuing to be trouble. Ernest is here in limbo accompanied and assisted by a very able guide called Juanita. He is going to become a real thorn in your side if you let him. William
s’
s friend Annabel is talented and the cripple is a borderline genius on a computer. Who’d have guessed?” He said the final phrase with an overtly camp inflection.

“We will be keeping a close eye on them, but contrary to rumours, omnipresence is not available in limbo. So we can only be in one place at a time.”

              Felicities face lost the pleased, excited smile and became pinched and irritated.

“Please, please tell me that this tableau and your little speech weren’t the reasons you wanted to talk to me. Omnipresence isn’t necessary to realise that Bacchus has a bag stuffed with documents and is as we speak, trying to join the dots to prove we killed Jonas and Ernest. If he’s lucky he’ll also uncover our family business and ruin us with that as well.”