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    Forbidden Book 5: Lady Sotheby's Curse
    Forbidden Book 5: Lady Sotheby's Curse
    Forbidden Book 5: Lady Sotheby's Curse
    Ebook140 pages1 hour

    Forbidden Book 5: Lady Sotheby's Curse

    By Mike Wells and Devika Fernando

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    About this ebook

    Feeling that she has no other choice, Jayne Clark trusts her instincts and takes the blackmail problem into her own hands. As she chases the criminal all over Europe, her business partner, Beatrice, becomes increasingly angry with her for not shouldering her share of the responsibility at the restaurant. Jayne feels tremendous pressure preparing the grand opening, searching for the blackmailer at the same time and trying to keep her fractured relationship with Robert intact. Is she really ‘losing it' under the all the stress, or—as unlikely as it seems—is she on the right track?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMike Wells
    Release dateOct 27, 2017
    ISBN9781370282241
    Forbidden Book 5: Lady Sotheby's Curse
    Author

    Mike Wells

    Mike Wells is an author of both walking and cycling guides. He has been walking long-distance footpaths for 25 years, after a holiday in New Zealand gave him the long-distance walking bug. Within a few years, he had walked the major British trails, enjoying their range of terrain from straightforward downland tracks through to upland paths and challenging mountain routes. He then ventured into France, walking sections of the Grande Randonnee network (including the GR5 through the Alps from Lake Geneva to the Mediterranean), and Italy to explore the Dolomites Alta Via routes. Further afield, he has walked in Poland, Slovakia, Slovenia, Norway and Patagonia. Mike has also been a keen cyclist for over 20 years. After completing various UK Sustrans routes, such as Lon Las Cymru in Wales and the C2C route across northern England, he then moved on to cycling long-distance routes in continental Europe and beyond. These include cycling both the Camino and Ruta de la Plata to Santiago de la Compostela, a traverse of Cuba from end to end, a circumnavigation of Iceland and a trip across Lapland to the North Cape. He has written a series of cycling guides for Cicerone following the great rivers of Europe.

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      Book preview

      Forbidden Book 5 - Mike Wells

      Forbidden

      Book 5 – Lady Sotheby’s Curse

      Mike Wells

      Devika Fernando

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2017 Mike Wells and Devika Fernando

      This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

      Chapter 1

      It was all for nothing, Jayne Clark thought.

      The effort and the secrecy, offending Beatrice, and putting her health in jeopardy…all in vain.

      She had ventured all the way to Cyprus to see if André Gaillard, the low-life who got Celeste pregnant in a one-night stand, could be the person sending the blackmail letters…only to discover from his Russian girlfriend that André couldn’t have sent the letters, that he’d been in jail for months!

      Jayne had taken the first flight available back to England, with a headache so intense she had to ask the woman sitting next to her for an aspirin.

      By the time she finally sat down on the bus to take her on the last leg of the trip home, from Heathrow Airport back to Oxford, her exhaustion felt bone-deep, as if she had chased the Russian pole dancer all over the island on foot. She leaned her head against the window, staring unseeingly at the traffic and countryside running by, fidgeting with the strap of her bag. She would give anything for two days of sleep, for a chance to block out the rest of the world and recharge. Even an hour power-napping sounded heavenly right now…

      She shouldn’t have gone to Cyprus in the first place. Shouldn’t have been so sure of herself. Shouldn’t have presumed she was doing the right thing by becoming personally involved. If she’d let that German detective whom Robert hired do his work, they’d have found out sooner or later that André was in prison, and this risky, dangerous trip would have been unnecessary.

      * * *

      When the gray spires, domes and towers of the University of Oxford came into view, Jayne sighed. Her guilty conscience told her she needed to go to the restaurant. It was barely noon and her partner could use all the help she could offer.

      She stepped off the bus at the closest stop, rolling her suitcase like a zombie along Radcliffe Street beneath the cloudy sky. The British called this summer? The forecast threatened yet another dreary deluge of cold rain.

      Should she call Robert? She couldn’t breathe a word of her secret trip to Cyprus, of course, but he might worry if she didn’t check in with him.

      A quick glance at her watch told her the second blackmail text message must have arrived some time ago. Had he paid? If so, how much? Had a new threat been issued along with the demand for money?

      Jayne sunk down onto a bench between a tree and a bright red phone booth, so physically and mentally exhausted that she had to give herself a minute.

      She simply sat there, staring unseeingly at the busy crowd, letting the first drops of rain hit her body. It quickly turned into a heavy shower, but she stayed put. Not even the rain was enough to wash away the jumble of bad feelings inside her. Her thoughts were slowly but surely spiraling out of control, and it threw her back to last year. Hadn’t she vowed to herself she would never again allow anyone or anything to make her feel so helpless?

      Just when the rain stopped and she was feeling so cold she knew she should get up and move, her phone rang.

      It was Robert.

      You can do this, she told herself a few times, then answered the call.

      Rob. I was just about to call you.

      I’m so fed up with all of this, he muttered, without even saying hello. Rob sounded half-depressed, half-angry, and she fell back against the bench’s hard wooden slats and squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of unshed tears.

      How did it go? she asked, dreading the answer.

      The message came right on time, like last time, but with a bank account in Malta. She heard Robert swallow hard. They had the nerve to ask for a whopping two hundred fifty thousand!

      Jayne gasped. What? Can we even afford that?

      No, we can’t. But as we don’t have a bloody choice… Rob swore vehemently. Before she could get a word in—and she had no idea what to say—he added in an even angrier and more dejected tone, Oh, and as if that isn’t bad enough, Schröder has news for us. André Gaillard can’t be the blood-sucking parasite behind all this. It turns out he’s been languishing in a jail in Cyprus for three months. Apparently, he got caught up in some drug case or other, the good-for-nothing playboy.

      It was Jayne’s turn to swallow. She had to bite her trembling lip to keep herself from letting Robert know that she’d found the same thing out hours ago.

      Her mind wandered, and she only half-listened to Robert explaining how André’s father managed to keep it a secret so that his son’s notorious deeds wouldn’t besmear the family name even more, and how he was working through diplomatic channels to try and get André out of jail.

      So, we’re right back where we started, Rob said with a defeated sigh. It definitely can’t be Gaillard.

      Then it has to be her, Jayne blurted.

      Rob was silent for a few seconds. Who? André’s girlfriend?

      Eleanor, Jayne whispered. Why had she said it? It was foolish.

      Don’t be daft, darling.

      Don’t call me daft, Robert!

      Well, don’t make ridiculous statements, Jayne. Do you think Eleanor Sotheby is posting blackmail letters from the grave? Get a grip.

      This made Jayne ever angrier, and more confident. It wasn’t such a far-fetched idea. People have survived falls worse than hers by landing in snow banks, Robert. I researched it online. Some of them have even fallen out of airplanes, from high altitudes—

      I’ve heard about those cases, but they’re freak occurrences, one in a million. And most of those people are crippled for life. Rob was speaking to her in an infuriatingly patronizing tone. One certainly couldn’t be jetting off to Cyprus and Malta to collect blackmail payments after surviving something like that.

      There was a long silence, during which Jayne fumed and used her last ounce of self-control to not yell at him.

      Anyway, I don’t have time for this nonsense, Robert said coldly. I have to get back to work.

      Me, too, Jayne said, and she ended the call.

      * * *

      Jayne gritted her teeth so hard that her jaw hurt, then shoved her phone into a pocket and got up off the bench. Goose bumps were forming beneath her shirt, partly from being wet and cold, partly from feeling even worse now.

      Her worst fear was coming true. She could almost hear something snap inside her, and taste its metallic bitterness like blood on her tongue.

      I’m losing Robert.

      Did the man not remotely fathom that she felt the whole thing was her fault?

      Drawing in a few deep breaths, she took hold of the handle of her carry-on and continued down the street towards the restaurant. At least Beatrice didn’t know what was happening. Thank god Beatrice wouldn’t be in until tomorrow—that should give her a chance to clear her head.

      * * *

      When Jayne reached the restaurant, she was surprised to find the front door unlocked. She rolled her suitcase inside, confused. Had the construction workers arrived early? Was there some important delivery she’d forgotten about?

      She stopped in her tracks when she heard footsteps approaching…and then Beatrice’s voice.

      Panicking, she thought of fleeing back out the front door, but the young woman had already rounded the corner.

      When she saw Jayne, they both stopped mid-movement. Beatrice looked crisp and polished as always.

      Oh, what do you know, it’s Jayne Clark, my business partner! Beatrice called this out theatrically, as if speaking to some invisible audience. She peered down at the carry-on and back up at Jayne’s face and said coolly, "So kind of you to pop in, dear. What’s the occasion? Fancy a spot of tea, have a chat to see how things are going?"

      I… Jayne faltered, taken aback by the biting coldness in her partner’s tone.

      Think, she willed herself, think, dammit.

      Beatrice was staring at her with an eyebrow raised, her arms crossed in front of her chest in a belligerent gesture, waiting for a lame explanation.

      Jayne should never have banked on Beatrice being out all day today.

      I…uh… Actually, Rob came back to London last night to pick up some work-related documents, and…and he stayed...

      And so you just couldn’t be bothered to come into work? She looked Jayne up and down. Shagging Rob is more fun, is it, love? The last sentence was spoken in a Cockney accent that made Jayne cringe. What had got into the woman? Where was the polished politeness that came as naturally to her as breathing?

      Jayne searched for the right thing to say, hating how meek her voice sounded in response. I didn’t think it was that important to come in early. Paul has the key, and they were only going to paint the customer toilets today, nothing too important. Paul was the contractor in charge of the renovation.

      Beatrice’s fire-spitting eyes narrowed, and Jayne was reminded of the saying If looks could kill. She swallowed uneasily, resisting the urge to shift her weight from foot to foot. So many lies, so

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