Her Latin Lover (Contemporary Romance) (15 page)

“I am quite sure they can manage,” Paulo replied. “They managed for many years on their own before your came. I’m sure they can manage for one morning without you, though I don’t know if I can.” He put his arm around her waist and began kissing her neck.

Mary let him lead her deep into the tall grass by the side of the path and it wasn’t long before they lost themselves in each other. Afterwards, Mary lay with her head on his chest listening to his heart beat which had returned to a steady rhythm. He ran his fingers through her soft, golden brown hair.

“I believe you wanted to ask me about your trial.” he said.

Mary didn’t want to discuss her trial anymore. She wanted to lie still in the sweet-smelling grass with Paulo under her and the sun on top of her.

“What do you want to know?” Paulo asked.

Mary lifted herself up onto one elbow. There was no point in avoiding the subject as she would have to talk about it with him sooner or later.

“I’m not sure really. I just want to know what’s going to happen.” She broke off a long piece of grass and began twirling it in her fingers.

“How can I know what’s going to happen? We will have to go there and see,” Paulo replied.

Mary didn’t find his answer very helpful. “But what will they say to me in court?”

“They will ask you some questions, like the ones I asked you yesterday in my study, before I became distracted by your beautiful legs.” He started caressing Mary’s thighs. Mary pulled back a bit. Now that she had started this conversation, she might as well finish it.

“But won’t I need a lawyer?” she asked. It was something that she’d been thinking about for a while, along with the harder question of how she was going to pay for one.

“No, this is just a pre-trial.” He continued to stroke her legs, slowly moving upwards with each sweeping movement of his hands.

Mary did her best to ignore it and press on with the subject of her trial. “What is a pre-trial?” She wasn’t very familiar with English court procedures, apart from what she saw on television dramas. She certainly didn’t have a clue about how things worked in South America.

“A pre-trial is where they decide what type of trial they will have. They will ask you some questions, they will ask some other people some questions and then they will decide.”

“Decide what exactly?” Mary started chewing on the end of the grass stalk that she was holding.

Paulo stopped rubbing her legs and sat up. “The judge will decide if it will be a trial for manslaughter, or if it is for murder.”

“And if they decide that it’s a murder trial?”

“Then I will get you the best lawyer in the whole of South America, even if I have to sell everything that I own to pay for it.”

Mary lay back down in the grass and contemplated what Paulo had said. It didn’t look as if she would be going back to London anytime soon.

*****

The day of the pre-trial finally arrived. After a sleepless night, Mary woke up early and prepared herself to face the day that would determine the rest of her life, not that the rest of her life looked very promising from any perspective. If things went badly and she was eventually convicted of murder she would spend the rest of her days in a filthy jail in La Puesta. If things went well and she got away with a manslaughter charge, she would still have to wait for the main trial and then face some time in jail.

Paulo was very vague when she asked him about prison sentences. All he would say was that it depended on the mood of the judge on the day; if he had an argument with his wife, or worse, his mistress before the trial, he might take it out on her and sentence her for a decade. On the other hand, if his wife made him his favourite meal the night before and his eldest soon received100% in a test at school that week, he might let her off with just a few months, perhaps less. Either way she wouldn’t be returning to teach her primary class this term.

She left it until the last minute to telephone the Headmaster to explain her predicament in the hope that some type of miracle might occur. However, when it seemed no miracle was forthcoming, she finally called him the day before the start of term and told the Head, Mr Nichols, that she was in South America.

“What on earth are you doing in South America?” Mr Nichols yelled down the phone. The telephone connection to London was surprisingly clear, but the Head was a man who always yelled, whether he needed to or not. Mary guessed that it was due to years of disciplining small children. “If you get on a flight tomorrow, I could arrange to cover for the first couple of days of the term. I hope you understand that you won’t be paid for any of the days you miss.”

“I can’t get a flight tomorrow. I have to make a court appearance.”

“A court appearance? Why in God’s name are you going to court, Miss Delaney?” Despite the fact that he used her surname, he spoke to her as if he were speaking to a naughty child.

“I’m afraid I’ve been involved in a local incident.”

“Incident? What kind of incident? Explain yourself Miss Delaney.”

“A shooting.” She desperately hoped he wouldn’t ask her anymore questions, but he did.

“A shooting? Well, you shouldn’t have gone to South America for the summer holidays. Why didn’t you go to Spain or France like everyone else? I suppose you’re going to tell me that you’ve been shot.”

It was clear that Mr Nichols thought Mary was lying and making up some wild excuse to prolong her holiday, like the time Mr Blythe, the Nursery teacher, pretended that he had food poisoning. Unfortunately, he was spotted the same day by Kaitlin Jones and the rest of Year 5, who were out on a school trip, kissing Kaitlin’s mother in Hyde Park.

“Actually Mr Nichols, I was the one who did the shooting. I shot a man. It’s complicated.”

Mr Nichols was silent for the first time since Mary had known him. “Mr Nichols, are you still there?” Mary called down the phone to London.

“Miss Delaney,” he said at last, “if what you are telling me is the truth, I will seriously have to reconsider your contract with this school. If, however, you are lying to me, you must understand that it is an offence that I do not take lightly and I will also be forced to reconsider your contract.”

Mary was going to ask him if that meant that he considered lying to the Headmaster to be on a par with murdering someone, but given the gravity of the situation she decided against it. “Mr Nichols, are you sacking me?”

“At present, no, I am not. However, if you fail to be in school by the middle of the week with an extremely good reason for your absence, then, yes, your contract will be terminated without delay.”

“I see.”

“Miss Delaney, may I finish by saying that I am very disappointed in you. You have shown great promise as a teacher in this school. Do not throw away your career for the sake of a holiday. I will see you on Wednesday, at the very latest.”

It was now Wednesday morning and Mary was nowhere near the school gates in London. She guessed that she was now officially unemployed and probably long-term. No one would take her on as a primary teacher when she eventually returned to England, not with a reference in which she was accused of lying and, much worse, with a possible criminal record. The only thing to do was to take one day at a time and today she had to face her pre-trial. At least she had Paulo to help her get through this.

When she got downstairs, both Paulo and Isabella insisted that she ate some breakfast. She didn’t have any appetite, but they said she needed a good meal to give her strength. Mary offered to help Isabella tidy up afterwards, but for once Isabella refused and insisted that Mary stayed in the other room with Paulo. At eight o’clock they all set off for Corazon, Paulo and Mary in the front of the jeep and Javier, Carlos and Isabella in the back. Mary couldn’t help but think of the last time she set out in the jeep, the night of the fiesta with Paulo’s men in the back all armed to the teeth. She hadn’t left Paulo’s hacienda since.

When they arrived at the town square, Mary could see that there was a large crowd outside the courthouse. It wasn’t everyday that a woman, and a foreigner at that, was tried for the shooting of a major mafia boss. The crowd gave her a respectful distance as Paulo ushered her in. The interior of the courthouse was dirty and hot, but Paulo found a bench for them to sit on that was directly under a ceiling fan. Isabella rummaged around in her large leather handbag for a few minutes and finally pulled out a rosary. For a while nothing could be heard except the click of Isabella’s wooden beads as she said her prayers and Mary presumed, or at least hoped, that they were for her. At that moment she felt that she needed all the help she could get, divine or otherwise.

After a while, the courthouse slowly started coming to life. People began walking past carrying briefcases and sheaves of paper. Other groups of people drifted in and sat down on nearby benches. Then people that Mary recognised started turning up. First Señor Marcos from the hotel arrived. He shook hands with Paulo and gave Mary a respectful nod before going over to have a cigarette with Javier and Carlos who were leaning against a nearby wall. Then some of Paulo’s farmers walked in but this time they weren’t all carrying guns. Mary recognised the man who had shot the dog outside Paulo’s house. They too greeted Paulo before moving away to stand at a respectful distance from him. Paulo leaned towards Mary and explained that they were there as witnesses. Mary looked over and smiled at the workers, but they ignored her and continued muttering among themselves.

Isabella was already on a second round of her rosary when at last a young man wearing an ugly brown suit, came up to them and asked, “Don Paulo de Castile?”

Paulo replied in the affirmative and the young man led them all into the court room. Just before they stepped in, Paulo squeezed Mary’s hand and whispered in her ear, “Good luck. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied. It was the first time they had actually said those words to each other. She wanted to say more, but the clerk asked her to come and sit down inside the court.

It was a small, plain room with nothing more than some benches down the back, a couple of plastic chairs in the middle and a large empty table at the front with a grey office chair behind it. The room was cooled by just two ceiling fans, one over the back benches and one over the table in front. The chair in the middle section where Mary was told to sit only received a slight breeze from either of them. She could already feel sweat dripping down the small of her back. She leaned forward to put as much space as possible between herself and the sticky plastic chair that she was sitting on. To one side was Paulo sitting with Isabella on the front bench. The other men sat behind them chatting amongst themselves. Mary noticed that Isabella was still clicking the beads of her rosary. She did her best to smile at Paulo.

There was a slight commotion as a side door on the opposite side of the room opened and in walked an unusually short, middle-aged man, escorted by the young man who had brought Mary and the others into the room. The little man took a seat behind the huge table at the front and started to examine the papers that the clerk handed to him. Mary presumed that he was her judge. She peered at him to see if she could read any signs of whether or not he was in a lenient mood. Did he look as if he had eaten a good breakfast? Did he appear to have made love the night before? It was impossible to tell. All she could see was that he read the court papers with a look of complete disinterest in the same way that many people read a newspaper on public transport, merely as a means to pass the time of day.

Mary looked around her to try and work out what was going on. Sitting opposite her was a policeman with a large paunch. She wondered where he came from as she didn’t remember seeing him walk into the room. The policeman had several badges pinned to his broad chest. Mary wasn’t sure, but she thought one of them read “Jefe de la Policia”. So he was the Chief of Police. She wondered where he’d been the night of the fiesta and why he hadn’t done anything to stop El Leon.

Eventually the judge put done the papers, placed a large paperweight on them to stop them fluttering too much under the fan and asked the Chief of Police to stand up. The man stood and answered a series of questions about El Leon and what happened the night of the fiesta. According to the policeman, El Leon was a dangerous criminal on the run from the law. The police had stopped him and his gang in the town on the night of the fiesta and had him surrounded. In a desperate attempt to flee, he’d tried to shoot several people including Don Paulo de Castile and his companion, Mary Delaney. Luckily, he hadn’t killed anyone, but Don Paulo received a severe wound which knocked him unconscious. In a brave attempt to protect herself, Mary Delaney used Don Paulo’s gun to defend herself and shot the attacker dead.

Mary found it hard to follow the policeman’s story, partly because he pronounced her name as “Maria de La Ne” and partly because he seemed to be talking about a completely different event to the one that she remembered occurring several weeks ago.

The judge sat and mused over what he’d heard for a while. He then turned to Mary and asked her in Spanish to stand up so he could ask her a few questions. First, he asked her where she was from and what she was doing in Corazon. Mary replied, just as she had practised with Paulo, that she was from London and that she was on holiday in South America. The judge then asked her how she felt when she saw El Leon at the fiesta. She said that she was scared because he had a gun. The judge nodded sympathetically. He asked her if she had any previous criminal record before the incident. Mary said that she hadn’t. The judge leafed through his papers and said that this was true and had been confirmed by the UK police. He then told Mary to sit down. He looked through his papers again and then asked the court if anyone had anything to add to what had already been said.

Nobody said a word. The judge waited a few minutes, drank some more water, looked at the Chief of Police and then looked at Mary. She could feel that the back of her shirt was now soaked in sweat. She tried to work out what the little man was thinking, but it was still impossible to tell. She looked at Paulo, but she couldn’t read his expression either. He looked a bit as he did the first night she saw him when he was playing poker in the back room of the bar, strong and self-possessed.