Murder Majorcan Style, page 13
‘Will you tell me where you were after noon on Monday, the fifth of the month?’
‘That is when Keith died?’
‘Yes.’
‘You think I murdered him in order to gain possession of the painting? What an imagination you must have!’
‘Where were you?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘It would help you to remember.’
‘A threat? You have brought handcuffs? Is there a Black Maria waiting?’
He wished he was sharp enough to counter her mockery. ‘You cannot say where you were?’
‘You understand perfectly.’
He left. As he drove down the twisting road, not looking to his left, he was annoyed that he had not finished the brandy. It had been a very good one, possibly even a gran reserva Cardenal Mendoza.
FIFTEEN
Alvarez was able to park in front of No. 8. He stepped on to the pavement, used the remote to lock the car, went into the entrada, came to a stop as he recognized Ana’s voice. The alternatives. Dull, grey life on a pension, exciting, productive life on many hectares of land.
The inner door opened and Dolores stepped into the entrada. ‘Something is keeping you from coming through?’
‘I was thinking.’
‘It’s to be hoped your thoughts don’t leave you standing there for the next hour,’ she said sharply. ‘Ana is here. She was going to leave earlier, but I persuaded her to stay because you’d be so upset if you missed her.’
Would he? If only questions were accompanied by answers.
‘You understand what I said?’
He understood that if he were not to annoy her, he must show grateful enthusiasm. ‘I’m very glad you managed to persuade her.’
‘Then you can come in and say so.’
He followed her into the sitting room.
Ana smiled. ‘Hullo, Enrique.’
‘What a wonderful surprise.’
‘Come and show you’re glad to see me.’
He crossed to her chair, leaned over to kiss her cheek. Their lips briefly met.
‘I’ll pour you a drink,’ Jaime said. ‘What’s it to be? Just the usual double coñac.’
Dolores stood, spoke to Jaime. ‘I must get the meal, and you can help me.’
‘Do what?’
She ignored the question.
‘I’m getting Enrique a drink.’
‘He is perfectly capable of doing that for himself.’
Jaime meekly followed her into the kitchen. Alvarez crossed to the table, poured himself a drink, remembering that in the circumstances it should only be a reasonably sized one.
‘I do hope you meant what you said,’ Ana paused for confirmation, failed to receive it. ‘I had to come into the village to buy one or two things and decided I’d say hullo to Dolores before returning home. She told me I must stay because you’d so hate missing me. Would you?’
He hurried to say: ‘Of course.’
‘I wonder why?’
She was very presentable; a man could walk with her and not fear silent jeering criticism; for a woman, she was reasonably intelligent. Marry her and retirement from the Cuerpo was to be welcomed, not dreaded.
‘You don’t know why?’ she asked coyly.
He glanced at the bead curtain, knowing Dolores would be listening intently in the kitchen.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Very soon, sweet Enrique, you will come to Son Cascall and tell me.’
He escorted Ana to her car. Before getting in, she said: ‘Some things must be private, so this is all I can give you now.’ She kissed him briefly, settled behind the wheel, drove off.
Dolores was clearing the table. ‘So you’ve finally come to your senses!’ She stacked one plate on top of another. ‘She has the forgiveness of a saint.’
‘I still don’t know what she is supposed to be forgiving.’
‘A man will lie in his coffin and deny he is dead.’
‘Why can’t you? . . . Have it your way. I must get a move on. I’m unusually late getting back to work.’
‘I doubt any difference will be noted.’
Dolores was proved wrong. Even as he sat behind his desk, the phone rang.
‘My secretary,’ Salas said, ‘has spent the past twenty minutes trying to contact you. No doubt you will tell me you have been engaged.’
‘In a sense, I suppose that is so.’
‘You like to jest?’
He concentrated on what he was saying. ‘Señor, I have been trying to identify other women who were friendly with Señor Sterne.’
‘Have you succeeded?’
‘Unfortunately, not.’
‘Why not?’
‘The nature of the problem makes it a very difficult task.’
‘Perhaps you are judging it to be beyond your ability? Have you questioned Señora Winters?’
‘Yes, señor.’
‘With what result?’
‘It’s difficult to say.’
‘Why?’
‘I found her to be a very strange woman.’
‘She will no doubt have had reason to believe you an unusual inspector.’
‘I asked her where her husband was. She replied he was dead.’
‘It is not unusual for a husband to die before his wife.’
‘Yet, she showed not the slightest emotion.’
‘She is English?’
‘Yes.’
‘They have iced water in their veins.’
‘Judging by a book I read, especially when it’s blue.’
‘What stupidity are you saying now?’
‘Cecilia accepts she called at Ca’n Mortex and asked about the painting, The Devil’s Alter Ego, which the señor had promised to leave to her. She denies she believed it was worth a fraction of the sum for which it is insured.’
‘Then why was she so eager to get her hands on it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘It would not, of course, have occurred to you that that was a question to be asked.’
‘But I did ask, señor. Much of her answer was confusing. When I mentioned someone had described the painting as emanating a sense of evil, she remarked that evil had its attractions.’
‘Why should that confuse you? You interest yourself in matters most would term evil.’
‘I asked her to name where she had been at the time of the señor’s death. She had no idea. When I pointed out it would assist her to give an answer, she seemed to be amused.’
‘No doubt because of the naivety of your questioning. It is all too clear that your claim to have made a breakthrough in the case was nonsense.’
‘What I said, señor, was I might have done so, not that I had.’
‘I am more aware of what you said than you are. To any officer other than you, this incident would show the peril of making bombastic claims that are quickly shown to be without any substance.’
The call was concluded.
The late sunshine made Marcial sweat as he used a mattock to clear the few weeds which had broken surface among the as-yet unwatered carrots. He leaned on the haft as he watched Alvarez approach.
‘I’ve a couple more questions.’
‘You’ve so many, you’re like a man what’s eaten too many beans.’
‘Won’t keep you from work for long.’
‘But as it’ll keep you away from it, as long as you can take.’
Alvarez stared at a row of sweetcorn. ‘Looks about ready for picking.’
‘Glad you’ve told me so as I know.’
‘Strange to think years back it was thought of as only animal food. Took the foreigners to teach us how good it can be.’
‘And how bad other things can be.’
‘True. Nothing is ever either just positive or negative.’
‘Ever told an electrician that?’
Alvarez used a handkerchief to remove the sweat from his face. ‘How about moving out of the sun into the shade?’
‘You need life to be nice and comfortable?’
They walked along one of the rough paths, topped with small stones taken from the soil, and sat under the shade of a lemon tree. They smoked, each enjoying the peace and contentment, however brief, a countryman could gain from the setting.
‘I want to know about that Monday,’ Alvarez said as he stubbed out his cigarette in the soil.
‘Told you. But you want to learn if I say something different so as you can start shouting it was me did him in?’
‘How were things when you came to work and during the morning?’
‘Same as ever.’
‘When did you come to work?’
‘Eight, like my job says.’
‘I’m asking when you arrived, not when you were supposed to.’
‘Not met anyone before who likes to earn his pay?’
‘I believe they do exist. Was it quiet at the house?’
‘Seemed so.’
‘What was the first sign of movement?’
‘Upstairs shutters were swung back.’
‘When did you first see anyone from inside?’
‘The brother and sister drove off.’
‘Before or after your break for coffee?’
‘An hour, hour and a half, like I told you.’
‘And then?’
‘They came back.’
‘According to your belly, that was around midday?’
‘Ain’t ever far out.’
‘Any idea where they’d been?’
‘Think they came over for a chat? All they ever do is give orders and tell me I’m doing things wrong.’
‘Were there any visitors before the señor was discovered?’
‘I told you there was.’
‘You mentioned a car which turned into the drive as you were leaving on your mobylette for lunch. You reckon it was a small black Citröen hatchback.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing. It agrees with what Evaristo has said. You saw the driver?’
‘No.’
‘Last time, you told me you did.’
‘I told you it was being driven too quick, and I was a bloody sight more concerned with not being knocked dead that seeing who was the bloody fool driving.’
‘But it was definitely a man?’
‘With two heads and four arms.’
‘Lighten up.’
‘It was a man.’
‘And you’ve no idea who he was?’
‘Never studied enough backs of heads to tell one from another.’
‘Was there anything noticeable about the car?’
‘Only what I said last time.’
‘The dangling skeleton?’
‘If that’s what it was.’
‘Where did you eat that day?’
‘Had what the wife give me.’
‘You didn’t get to enjoy Marta’s cooking?’
‘Maybe had a little of what was going when I got back here.’
‘You were there until when?’
‘Can’t rightly say.’
‘Your belly was enjoying a siesta?’
‘We was talking more than usual.’
‘Translated, that means you were in the kitchen long after you should have resumed work. You weren’t worried the señor would find you there?’
‘He never went near the kitchen.’
‘He might have first looked for you in the garden.’
‘Too big for that.’
‘Plenty of skiving places?’
‘Tell me you don’t ever help yourself to a bit of time off and I’ll laugh.’
‘When d’you reckon you went back to work?’
‘Might have been a bit late.’
‘Half an hour, an hour?’
‘Give over. Ten minutes at the most.’
‘You were in the kitchen all that time with Roldan and Marta?’
‘Yes.’
‘When did you learn Roldan had found the señor, dead in his car?’
‘When he shouted.’
‘What did you do when you learned what was the trouble?’
‘Looked to see.’
‘You went down into the garage?’
‘No.’
‘Didn’t occur you might have been able to help him?’
‘Someone wants to commit suicide, let him.’
‘It wasn’t suicide.’
‘Wasn’t to know that, was I?’
‘Are the brother and sister here now?’
‘Ain’t see ’em leave.’
He stood. ‘You’re growing more yellow tomatoes. Some must like ’em. What do they taste like?’
‘Buy some and find out.’
‘Not seen them on sale and I wasn’t trying to cadge.’
‘Wouldn’t have succeeded.’
He walked to the house, went into the kitchen. Marta was cooking. ‘Something smells delicious.’
She stirred the contents of the casserole on one of the gas rings on top of the oven. ‘Maybe them inside will think it tastes good and stop complaining.’
‘They can’t have much to complain about.’
‘You reckon that stops them?’
‘You’ve said they got on quite well with the señor.’
‘They weren’t going to upset him and get kicked out of all their free living.’
‘He might have done that if they’d annoyed him?’
‘There wasn’t much knowing what he was likely to do, except bring in another woman as soon as one left.’
‘Did his women bother you?’
‘When the señor pays the salary, you don’t let yourself be bothered.’
But from her manner, there had been times when she had found it difficult to conceal her feelings. ‘I need to talk to the brother and sister. Are they here?’
‘As far as I know. But they don’t tell me anything, so they could have left hours ago.’
‘I’ll see if I can find them.’
‘If you ask me, I wouldn’t go looking very hard.’
He smiled. ‘By the way, I met Cecilia. She’d no idea that painting was valuable.’
‘Easy to say.’
‘She just enjoyed it as a painting.’
‘Must be a strange life she leads.’
He chatted a while longer, left the kitchen and went through to the hall. From the green sitting-room came the sound of speech and from the evenness of the rhythm, he judged it was from the television. He opened the door, stepped inside.
They stared at him with surprise. Caroline was the first to speak.
‘How dare you come in here.’
‘Señorita, in the hall, I tried to attract your attention, but failed. I had to enter unannounced.’
‘You think you can do as you damn well like?’
‘Far from it. But I do have to do anything which might help to uncover the circumstances of your father’s death.’
‘That means breaking into the house and forcing your way into this room?’
‘I have explained, señorita. If you will now just tell me . . .’
‘I’ve told you all I know.’
‘I think, perhaps not.’
‘You’re insolently suggesting I or my brother is withholding evidence?’
‘Not yet knowing all the circumstances, I regretfully have to consider the possibility.’
‘My God! How you police lack any intelligence.’
‘That may seem to you to be so, señorita; for our part, we have to learn how to deal with the stupidity of tourists.’
‘You’ll regret saying that.’
‘One seldom regrets a pleasure. Tell me about the Monday morning on which your father unfortunately died.’
‘If you think I’m going to sit here and hear you trying to imply I murdered him, you’re a bigger fool than you appear.’
Alec Sterne, voice pitched high, said: ‘For Pete’s sake, calm it, sis.’
‘You expect me to sit back and let him insult me?’
‘You did insult him first.’
Alvarez was surprised Alec Sterne should challenge her. Perhaps he did possess the shadow of a character. ‘Señora, is it correct that on the Monday, you and your brother drove away from here in the morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘At what time did you leave?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Would you like to estimate a time?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
Alec Sterne said hastily: ‘It was a little after nine.’
‘Thank you, señor. And when did you return?’
‘About midday.’
‘You cannot be more precise?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Did you stay here for long?’
‘No.’
‘Why did you return?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘I’d tell you if I could. Maybe one of us had forgotten something.’
‘You can suggest what?’
‘No. It must have been unimportant.’
‘Yet important enough to force your return?’ Alvarez waited for a reply, finally said: ‘Did you speak to the señor during the time you were here?’
‘We didn’t see him.’
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said shrilly. ‘You’re so damned prejudiced, you’re determined to believe we had something to do with father’s death.’
‘Señorita, it is not prejudice which makes me ask questions, it is the fact that you seem both to have been in this house when your father died.’
‘You can’t know that for sure. And even if we were, that doesn’t mean we killed him.’
‘You might have threatened him, caused him such shocked fear, he died.’
‘Are you deaf as well as dumb? Didn’t you hear my brother say we didn’t see or speak to him? Are you incapable of understanding what that means?’
‘Not incapable, but I need to know whether you are both lying.’
‘You bastard,’ she shouted.
Alec Sterne said, with nervous haste: ‘Inspector, she’s very upset over father’s death and shocked you could believe either of us guilty of parricide.’
‘As one would imagine. So perhaps you would explain to her that the best way of avoiding so unwelcome a possibility is to help me with my enquiries.’
There was a silence.
‘Señorita, you did not know where your father was when you were briefly back in the house?’
‘I keep telling you so.’ She spoke more calmly.
‘You were not surprised you did not meet him?’
