Snakes In Suits, page 1
Snakes In Suits
Hinemura Ellison and Ted Hughes
Table of Contents
Title Page
Snakes In Suits (The Trinity Trilogy, #2)
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1: Back in Town
Chapter 2: Wake up Sleeping Beauty
Chapter 3: First the Lawyer, Then the Cute Banker
Chapter 4: Back at Ed House
Chapter 5: A Sense of Belonging
Chapter 6: Let’s Swing This Ship Around...
Chapter 7: Bubbles at Portobello
Chapter 8: Basement Discovery
Chapter 9: Injunction and Bombshell
Chapter 10: Waiheke Bound
Chapter 11: Clara Spills
Chapter 12: Skinny Dip and into the Deep
Chapter 13: Sven’s Turn
Chapter 14: Freya (Opens Up)
Chapter 15: Crossing Paths
Chapter 16: Zac Returns
Chapter 17: Roof Top Transformation
Chapter 18: Waitarere Weekend
Chapter 19: Confessions and Quakes
Chapter 20: Community Beacon
Chapter 21: The Lighthouse Keepers
Chapter 22: Business as Usual?
Chapter 23: The Case Gets a Break
Chapter 24: Summer House and Raids
Chapter 25: Portobello Party Revelation
Chapter 26: Case Closed and Swedish Synchronicity
The End
Also available from the Bach Doctor Press: | Sharks With Lipstick
Scorpions In Stilettos
Whiskey Lima Golf
Concealment
Revelation
Fabulous Faerie Folk – Discovering a Hidden World
Also by Hinemura Ellison & Ted D Hughes
Trinity Trilogy
Book 1: Sharks with Lipstick
Book 2: Snakes in Suits
Book 3: Scorpions in Stilettos
Snakes In Suits
Hinemura Ellison and Ted D Hughes
BACH DOCTOR PRESS
This first edition 1.0 published in 2019 Bach Doctor Press Copyright © Hinemura Ellison & Ted Hughes The moral rights of the authors has been asserted All rights reserved.
No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. While many places are real, the events and incidents are products of the authors’ imagination. Any resemblance to the behaviour or appearance of actual persons holding positions similar to characters in the story is coincidental and unintentional.
For legal reasons, I am obliged to stress that this novel and series IN NO WAY implies that any of the mentioned government departments, people, systems, back handers exist. That would be an outrageously unbelievable allegation.
ISBN: 978-0-473-49442-1
ISBN 978-0-473-49443-8 Epub
ISBN: 978-0-473-49444-5 Kindle
Cover design by: Michelle Connor, EbookCoversOnline
Many people spend too much time trying to be the Captain of someone else’s boat. Learn to be a Lighthouse and the boats will find their way.
Anonymous
Acknowledgements:
Thank you to our publisher, Darin and the team at Bach Doctor Press, our proofreader Belinda O’Keefe, our book cover designer Michelle Connor and our desk top publisher Mark Innes-Jones
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1: Back in Town
Chapter 2: Wake Up Sleeping Beauty
Chapter 3: First the Lawyer, Then the Cute Banker
Chapter 4: Back at Ed House
Chapter 5: A Sense of Belonging
Chapter 6: Let’s Swing This Ship Around...
Chapter 7: Bubbles at Portobello
Chapter 8: Basement Discovery
Chapter 9: Injunction and Bombshell
Chapter 10: Waiheke Bound
Chapter 11: Clara Spills
Chapter 12: Skinny Dip and into the Deep
Chapter 13: Sven’s Turn
Chapter 14: Freya (Opens Up)
Chapter 15: Crossing Paths
Chapter 16: Zac Returns
Chapter 17: Roof Top Transformation
Chapter 18: Waitarere Weekend
Chapter 19: Confessions and Quakes
Chapter 20: Community Beacon
Chapter 21: The Lighthouse Keepers
Chapter 22: Business as Usual?
Chapter 23: The Case Gets a Break
Chapter 24: Summer House and Raids
Chapter 25: Portobello Party Revelation
Chapter 26: Case Closed and Swedish Synchronicity
Prologue
Two men wait impatiently outside the main door of the large three storied pale pink art deco building. Suddenly a large black Mercedes-AMG GT Coupe pulls up next to them. A tall thin man unfolds himself from the driver’s seat and emerges, barking at the waiting men, “Well, what are you imbeciles standing there for? Get the doors open, I haven’t got all night.”
“Yes Sir, Mr Church Sir,” the smaller of the two men replies, as he turns quickly and starts manipulating the lock.
The other man in the pinstripe suit and black backpack ventures, “You know, Sir, it would be much easier to wait until you own the place...”
“Shut up, idiot features! Damien, if you did what you were told on that last job instead of second guessing my instructions, we wouldn’t be in this current financial mess,” the thin man barks.
“Well how was I to know the old lady was going to make a miraculous recovery?” the pinstripe suited Damien replies. “Especially after the amount of Wolfsbane I administered.”
“We’re in, Boss,” the smaller man hisses, as the lock suddenly clicks.
“About bloody time,” Mr Church replies. “Well, come on you two, inside and let’s have a look around. Thomas, you check the upstairs areas are empty, Damien, wait here with me, I want a word.”
“Right Boss,” the smaller man replies as he heads upstairs with his torch leading the way.
Once he is out of earshot, the thin man turns, demanding, “Damien, when are you going to learn to take responsibility for your actions?” But before Damien can reply, he barks, “It was a rhetorical question, you idiot. Come on, I want to see the basement.”
Halfway down the stairwell, Damien suddenly stops and turns back to face his tormentor. “With all due respect, Mr Church, after diverting those insulation trucks to the Seaview warehouse and securing these explosives for you, I’ve just about had enough of your insults.” Damien stares intensely at his boss, adjusting the heavy backpack before continuing, “I work damn hard for you and you know it!”
Coming to an abrupt stop, Mr Church puts his hand up and grabs an iron pipe above his head to steady his balance. “Just what are you saying, Damien? And be very careful how you reply...”
***
Chapter 1: Back in Town
Freya hops off the Interislander ferry, freshly back from her three-week stint on Outward Bound, a physically, spiritually and emotionally challenging yet rewarding course in the Pelorus Sounds in the South Island.
With her pack over her shoulder, feeling a huge sense of achievement and at long last direction, she and her overly familiar pack make their way outside the terminal. There waiting for her as usual is her old friend Zac, the ever reliable, trustworthy, honest and dependable Zachary Tyler MacLean-Smith. Zac has been around in Freya’s life off and on since forever. Tall, dark wavy hair with speckles of grey, like her, he is in his forties. Zac and Freya met back in the Bay when they were just kids, hanging out at the local Scout’s Hall on Cheviot Road, he the big Cub and Freya the cute Brownie; but then they lost touch as she went away to boarding school at Nga Tawa in Marton and he to King’s College up in Auckland. Maybe if he’d gone to a more local school like Whanganui Collegiate in nearby Whanganui their life could have been very different. Freya ended up falling in love with the local Marton vet while breaking bounds most nights (unbeknownst to her pesky set of matrons), but she’d stayed in touch with Zac over the years, as their parents lived in the same street in Lowry Bay.
“Hey Freya, look at you! Wow, don’t you look the typical rough and ready backpacker? You would think you and your German friends had just finished backpacking all of the South Island and been freedom camping, escaping the luxury of showers,” Zac says teasingly.
“Thanks for your vote of confidence, buddy. I am glad my au naturel looks are turning you on. I especially dressed up for you as you can see. I wanted to make a lasting impression as I bounced off the ferry,” Freya replies quick-wittedly, posing and flicking her hair from side to side.
To be fair, the entire trip had been a series of physical pursuits from rock climbing, sailing a cutter, running a half marathon to navigating a waka over a series of lakes, and taking the biggest ‘hīkoi’ of her lifetime – a six-day hardcore walk up and down mountains, valleys and across rivers. The weather had been poor and at one stage she had been sandwiched between a cyclone and a southerly front. The dress code had to be practical, warm, watertight and durable. Showers, and toilets for that matter, were a luxury, let alone sexy see-through camisoles and skimpy skirts. Besides, it was only Zac and what was the point of having a quick wash on the boat and scrubbing herself up? He was used to seeing her in all conditions.
They jump into his mum’s classic red VW Beetle and head out on
Tearing along the motorway, Zac strikes up his usual conversation – mainly questions. “So how did it go, Freya? What exciting stories have you got to share? Did you break any instructors’ hearts? Did you fall for any of those cute Māori instructors?”
“Not a chance, Zac. No time for love; it was all about survival, kicking arse, trying to get as much sleep at night as possible, nursing my poor blistered feet and not wanting to let my team down by lagging at the back. You know how it is. Well, you did when you used to play little soldiers up at Linton and out at Trentham.”
“Yeah, Freya, that was five lifetimes ago. I don’t still have that burning urge to push myself to the max anymore – only you do that.”
Freya interrupts, “Don’t kill a girl for trying. It’s not my fault I want to be fit and out there, better than sitting around like a couch potato, like your ex-missus.”
“Ouch!!! Where did that come from? Did I deserve that? Here I am on a Tuesday morning fighting through rush hour traffic to come into town to pick you up on this blustery, windy Wellington day and this is the thanks I get? Anyhow, since when has my ex come into this?” Zac responds defensively.
Freya suddenly feels rather sheepish, wondering herself where that backhander came from. After all, it’s not as if she and Zac are dating. She jumps in and apologises to Zac profusely. “Oh my god Zac, I am so, so sorry, I have no idea where that runaway comment came from. That was well out of order. I can’t apologise enough. Hell, can I make it up to you? Look, pull over to the Chocolate Fish café and let me shout you a coffee and a big sugary chocolate cake, your favourite. In fact, anything you want to order. I owe you big time. Sorry.”
“I should think so, Freya Isobel Nilson. However, I will forgive you because I know how sleep deprived you must be. I do remember that part of our ‘little soldier’ weekends away in the hills,” he says with a touch of sarcasm. “By the time you were on watch and exercising most of the day, there was little or no time to sleep. I think that was part of the exercise, to push you to the limit, break you down then build you up again the way they wanted you to be. However, a free coffee from my favourite Bionic Woman, now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” A BMW four-wheel drive with a Yummy Mummy from the Bay pulls out, leaving the Beetle a perfect parking space right outside.
“There you go, no more walking for you today, Fin,” he says, calling her by her childhood nickname. Then he jumps out and like a true gentleman swings open the rusty old door onto the pavement. “Madam, this way,” he announces, as he guides her through the front door of the busy little café.
Much to Zac’s amusement, Freya dives into the choice of cakes. She obviously hasn’t had any treats for the last three weeks and goes hammer and tongs at a slice of passionfruit cheesecake followed by Louise cake and a large flat white. They talk and catch up, and as Zac notices Freya’s energy levels starting to slip again, even after the huge sugar fix, he realises it is best to get her home to his mum’s for a shower and a good night’s sleep.
Freya’s parents have recently sold their lovely Lowry Bay home and gone overseas to do their OE. Rather late in life, but all the same, they quite suddenly upped sticks and headed for Scandinavia. Freya’s architect father Nils had recently been to a co-house hui and had found out that Denmark was the best place to learn more. He had grand ideas of starting his own co-house community but wanted to see for himself how the Danes had successfully done this. His wife Sarah, Freya’s mum, was always up for a challenge, especially if it involved travel. With Freya being their only child and now highly independent, why not? The real estate market had been booming and they got an offer on the house they simply couldn’t refuse. With all of their worldly goods, including Freya’s, now in storage in the Waitarere Beach bach, Freya had no base any longer and no excuse to visit the Bay. Most of her friends, except Zac, had moved on.
However, Freya’s godmother Zita, who happened to be Zac’s mum and good friends with Sarah and Nils, had a soft spot for her god-daughter and always kept in touch. She was like a second mother and insisted on Freya calling in at least once a month when she was in town, to let her know what she was up to. Those visits had paid off with Zita extending the invitation to her to come and stay and share her tales of the adventurous Outward Bound escapades.
Zac pulls into the side road just off the Marine Drive into the cute little cul-de-sac where his parents have lived forever, noting Freya’s half-closed eyes. He drives the Beetle down the tree-lined driveway past the swimming pool and comes to a standstill. “Okay Sleeping Beauty, we’re home.”
Zita, hearing the Beetle roar up the driveway, comes running out. The distinctive engine sound was always a bit of a giveaway when sneaking home late at night. The Beetle being the spare family car as Zita would never part with her.
“Fin, look at you,’ she says, giving the girl a huge hug and kiss on each cheek. “You look like you need a good week’s sleep and you’re so thin, did they not feed you on that course? Come in, come in. Zac, be a darling and take her bag for her. Come in and tell us everything.” She glances at her again and changes her mind. “No, you pop into your room and have a nap. We’ll have plenty of time to hear some tales later.”
Without arguing for a change, Freya lets herself into her room. “Oh my god, a real bed, real walls, a roof... oh this is heaven. Night Zita,” she murmurs, and within seconds she is asleep.
***
“Chute, come over here, man,” the heavy-set navy blue suited man calls out, a billowing cloud of cigar smoke escaping from his mouth.
The black suited Judge Chute with a tightly folded copy of the Capital News tucked tightly under his arm changes direction, answering, “Good god, it’s you Prendergast, underneath that cloud of noxious fumes.”
Prendergast takes a sip from his crystal cognac glass before replying, “Good fellow, now tell this whippersnapper the real reason for the ‘Earthquake Strengthening Act’ that we supported. Sorry, where are my manners; Chute, this is Church, Donald Church. Church – Chute.”
Church stands as he takes the proffered hand. “Pleased to meet you, Your Honour.”
“We are not in a courtroom, Church; Sir will do.” Turning to Prendergast, Chute remarks, “Still disobeying the doctor’s orders, are we?”
“That quack wouldn’t know his arse from his backside,” Prendergast splutters. “Besides, I didn’t call you over for a medical consultation; please enlighten my new client.”
Pouring himself a generous measure of cognac, Chute takes a seat, eyeing up the younger tall man. He takes note of the well-tailored expensive grey suit before explaining, “Well, if you are going to utilise Prendergast’s services, you should know that although he charges like a wounded bull, if you are in my courtroom, he will get the correct result.”
“I’ll bear that in mind, Sir,” replies Church.
Chute turns to Prendergast. “We need to talk about the Wakefield result after this.”
“Yes, yes, Chute, that special piece of artwork is being prepared for transportation to your residence as we speak. I would anticipate delivery tomorrow, old chap.”
“Good, good.” Leaning back in the leather armchair, Chute takes a sip of the cognac. “Hmm, you ordered the Paul Giraud, I see.” Taking another sip, he continues looking at Church. “Now a developer like yourself, yes I know who you are, Church, your reputation precedes you.” Turning again to Prendergast he adds, “We will talk after this.”
“Please go on, Sir,” Church offers.
“Now the practical applications of the ‘Earthquake Strengthening Act’ is that in the fine print – the subsection escapes me, but Prendergast knows it well – it states that heritage buildings are not immune,” Chute takes another sip, “and that if the cost of earthquake strengthening exceeds fifty-one per cent of the value of the building...”
Prendergast interrupts, “... then you can take your wrecking ball to it and build one of your new high-rise apartments!”
Church sits back in his chair. “I thought there was a loophole somewhere, damn that is fantastic information, thank you gentlemen.” He shakes his head in wonderment. “Who knew it would be this easy; I have a property ripe for this type of development.”
