The front door was opened and he heard Dolores ask Jaime if he had remembered to bring from the car, the magazine Rosa had given them. Jaime thought she had been going to do that. She questioned Jaime’s ability to do anything before she entered the sitting room.

  She glanced quickly at the bottle and glass. ‘Lunch won’t be long. But perhaps you will not be bothered when you eat.’ She carried on through to the kitchen.

  Jaime sat, opposite Alvarez. He filled a glass. ‘Talk, talk, talk. The old woman went on and on saying how brilliant she was at crochet; the mayor of Palma had seen some of her work and said he thought it must have been done by angels. By someone half blind, more like.’

  ‘Have you no sympathy for the old?’ Dolores called out.

  ‘Not when they repeat themselves for the fortieth time.’

  ‘You’ll be old one day.’

  ‘A couple more hours of her and I’d willingly step into a coffin.’

  ‘A woman understands compassion, a man never meets the word.’

  ‘Didn’t you say in the car she was an endless gramophone record?’

  ‘Since she lives on her own, I was happy to give her the opportunity to talk.’

  ‘And she took it with both tongues.’

  ‘Enrique, Ana is coming to supper tomorrow.’

  He emptied his glass.

  ‘You have nothing to say?’

  ‘What am I suppose to say?’

  ‘You are so ignorant of warm words? You phone her immediately and tell her you’ve just heard she’ll be along tomorrow and you can’t wait.’

  ‘Then she’ll want to know why doesn’t he drive to Son Cascall right away,’ Jaime said.

  ‘Even a childless wife has to look after a mewling infant.’ There was a brief pause. ‘You have no wish to speak to her, Enrique?’ she demanded.

  ‘Just going.’ Alvarez went through to the entrada, across to the phone, lifted the receiver, waited, replaced it, returned and sat.

  ‘You had so little to say?’

  ‘The line’s engaged.’

  ‘You will try again in a minute.’

  In his office, he opened the telephone directory, turned to the Porto Cristo section, searched through the Ns, hopefully found the one he wanted, dialled.

  ‘Basil Nast speaking.’

  ‘Inspector Alvarez, señor. Perhaps you will remember me?’

  ‘If I may say so without causing offence, yours was a visit not easily forgotten. How can I enlighten you this time?’

  ‘I should like to visit you tomorrow.’

  ‘When exactly?’

  ‘In the afternoon, at around six.’

  ‘I’m afraid neither Janet nor I will be here. We’re going on a cruise and fly to Italy at midday to pick up the ship.’

  He would no longer have a valid excuse for not meeting Ana.

  ‘Can you tell me now what the problem is?’

  ‘Both you and your wife knew Señor Sterne well.’

  ‘I, not as well as she.’

  ‘Did either of you ever learn the names of other ladies with whom he was very friendly.’

  ‘If we had done so, we would not repeat them to you. Not every couple enjoy the broad-minded attitude we do and we would not wish to be responsible for replacing a husband’s ignorance with unwelcome knowledge. Am I correct to judge from your question, you do not yet know who killed Keith?’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘So you regard it most likely that an enraged husband was the guilty party?’

  ‘That has to be a possibility.’

  ‘And you chase all possibilities. No, Inspector, neither I nor Janet learned the identities of the many women with whom he had affairs. Surprisingly, considering his character, he made no effort to publicize his prowess in the sport.’

  ‘No Christian names? No hints? You’ve never seen him in the company of someone else’s wife?’

  ‘He could be discreet where women were concerned.’

  ‘I don’t think that answers my question.’

  ‘It’s the only answer I’ll give.’

  ‘You do not wish to help identify his murderer?’

  ‘If he was an unwilling cuckold, he has my sympathy, not hostility.’

  ‘That is an unusual attitude.’

  ‘Human relationships are never more unusual than when sex is concerned. Is there anything more you’d like to ask?’

  ‘I don’t think so, señor.’

  ‘Then I’ll sign off because I want a word with our travel agent to make certain our itinerary is correct. One of the local expats booked through them a trip by ferry and train to Brussels. He nearly found himself in Lyon. A meal cooked by Paul Bocuse would have lessened his annoyance.’

  ‘I hope you have a happy cruise, señor.’

  ‘It’ll be a novel experience. Janet and I will be together all the time.’

  The call over, Alvarez sat back. The odds against their being together all the time seemed remote. He considered his own problems. The staff at Ca’n Mortex had several times denied they could name any of the women Sterne had entertained. He would question them again, but had not reason to believe their answers would be any different. Sterne might have kept a record of his affairs; some men did. It seemed unlikely since Sterne had just been named discreet, yet he must prove to Salas he had done all that a man of enthusiasm and initiative would or could do. In the library, every book on the shelves should be checked in case it was a fake and contained the evidence he sought; all the drawers and files should be examined again because previously he had only really been looking for financial information . . .

  ‘Did you phone Ana from work?’Dolores asked, as Alvarez entered the sitting room.

  ‘I tried several times, but the line was always engaged.’ He sat. On the television was a scene of some tropical island, palm trees, and flat calm seas. Live there and one would not be bedevilled by questions.

  ‘I phoned her an hour ago and got through immediately.’

  ‘Then it must be the phone in the office which is at fault.’

  ‘More likely the person using it. Ana will be here tomorrow.’

  ‘So you’ve said.’

  ‘She is arriving at seven. You will make certain you are here to greet her.’

  ‘If all goes well . . .’

  ‘You will make certain it does.’

  ‘I can’t guarantee the superior chief won’t suddenly order me to drive to Porto Cristo.’

  She studied him, eyelids slightly narrowed across her dark brown eyes. ‘You understood what I said? As much as I would regret your leaving here, however fond of you I am, you will no longer be welcome in this house.’

  ‘You’re trying to make something out of nothing. I never did anything to upset her when she was young.’

  ‘Since you have said, very many times, that you cannot remember her, you cannot deny your behaviour.’

  Seated at his desk on Thursday afternoon, Alvarez considered every possible move and discarded them all. Even if he persuaded a cabo to ring home to say he had been knocked over by a car and had been rushed to Inca in an ambulance, Dolores would need to view his battered body before she would accept he had been unable to return home to meet Ana.

  Tens of hectares of rich land, almond trees by the dozen, orange and lemon groves, flocks of sheep; an unobtainable dream until now. Would it become a nightmare? Emilio had been denied the pleasure of her bed, of wine and coñac; he had been made to feel a servant, not the boss. Do this, do that; buy me a kilo of bananas; why weren’t you back before eight last night; who was that you were talking to; do you intend to run this estate by sleeping every afternoon; I gave you a euro last week and now you want another because you sneak into a bar when I am not with you . . .

  He could suffer his thoughts no longer. He must get out of the office to the freedom of the streets, order a brandy at Club Llueso and pay with money for which he did not have to account.

  ‘You look like you’ve just been ordered to do some work.’

  The cabo at the information desk was a graceless youngster. Alvarez walked along the narrow road, jostled by people of whom a large proportion were foreigners. They had chosen to leave their own countries for a holiday and no one had denied them the right to do so. The sunshine had the freedom to go where it wanted. The middle-aged man, dressed in a weird costume, enjoyed the freedom to make a visual fool of himself. The two young women in miniskirts proclaimed their freedom to display their long, slender legs, to grasp a man’s gaze and yet scorn his advance.

  He reached the old square, built up in the centre to provide a level surface. At the tables, under sun umbrellas, were people with the freedom to order what drinks they wanted.

  ‘Inspector! Inspector!’

  He stopped, turned, saw Marta supporting Susanna with an arm around her waist. He pushed his way through the crowd to reach them.

  ‘Take us to the health centre. Quickly.’

  He supported Susanna, shouted at people to get out of the way, went down the short road, past the chemist to the taxi stand – his own car was too far away.

  Once the two women were seated in the rear of the first waiting car, Alvarez draped a white handkerchief out over the front seat passenger window – as a sign of emergency – and jammed it in position by raising the glass. ‘Drive like the devil is chasing you.’

  They entered the health centre through the outside emergency door. In the small waiting area, he rang the bell, knocked repeatedly on the door. A nurse opened the door, began to upbraid him for causing the disturbance, stopped when she saw Susanna. She helped her into the examination room. Marta followed.

  Alvarez returned to the taxi. ‘After that, I feel rather like I’d been kicked in the nuts. Let’s move to Club Llueso where we can recover with a stiff drink, or two.’

  ‘You being an inspector, I’m not drinking anything hard or you’ll have me in.’

  ‘You have such small faith in me?’

  ‘Having so much to do with you lot, I haven’t any.’

  TWENTY

  Alvarez entered, walked through the entrada to the sitting room, came to a stop as Jaime, seated at the table, waved his hands in an unmistakable gesture to leave.

  ‘Who is that?’ Dolores demanded from the kitchen.

  Jaime shrugged his shoulders.

  Dolores came through the bead curtain, stared at Alvarez. Her expression was so bitter that his first thought was one of the children must have been injured. ‘You believed I did not mean what I said?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘You will leave this house. You will take out everything that is yours by this time tomorrow.’

  ‘What’s got you shouting?’

  ‘You have the audacity to attempt to make out you do not know?’

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘Ana arrived early because she had been told there was a shop in the village where she could buy what she wanted. She asked me where it was, so I said I would go with her. We were on our way when we saw you.’

  ‘What’s so frantic about that? Why didn’t you come over and we could have had a coffee at one of the cafés.’

  ‘You think sweet words can hide your cruel depravity? You think they can dry her tears, deaden her memory?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re going on about.’

  ‘Liar! Accursed liar!’ She put her hands on her hips, held her body forward as if a matador at The Moment of Truth. ‘We sat at one of the tables in the old square and ordered two granissats. We had finished and were about to leave when we saw you with your arms about a young girl. And if that was not enough shame, she was pregnant.’

  ‘That’s nonsense. She’s suffering from a virus which no one can cure.’

  ‘You lack the courage to speak the truth? You have the infamy to refer to new life as a virus?’

  ‘“New life.” What are you talking about?’

  ‘She is pregnant.’

  ‘That’s crazy. There are no signs of pregnancy.’

  ‘You think a woman can’t tell when another woman is pregnant when she looks at the face, the way she holds herself?’

  ‘Obviously, you can’t.’

  ‘Did Ana weep bitter tears because she also was mistaken?’

  ‘If . . . if you’re right, you surely don’t think it’s my fault?’

  ‘Why else would you embrace her?’

  ‘Embrace? I was giving her support after her mother had called me to help. Now, I suppose you tell me I’m a cowardly, fornicating liar?’ he said angrily. ‘Then tell Jaime to drive you to Ca’n Mortex, speak to Susanna’s mother, ask her how I can be the father when I had not met Susanna until the day Señor Sterne died.’

  ‘You swear on your mother’s honour, you are not the father?’

  ‘You think me so licentious I would destroy a young girl’s innocence?’

  She slowly crossed to the table, sat. ‘There has not been the time for it to show . . . But Ana was hysterical . . . Sweet Mary! but I am wicked to imagine such a thing possible. How can you ever forgive me?’ She looked up in great distress. ‘Drive like the wind to Son Cascall.’ She spoke quickly. ‘Explain how we were both shamefully mistaken. Assure her she has no reason to condemn you for anything . . .’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do it, Enrique, or she will imagine you have betrayed her.’

  ‘I cannot marry a woman who hastens to believe me guilty, who is so quick to condemn without cause.’

  She spoke very slowly, as if having difficulty in finding the words. ‘You are right. You would marry a woman who lacks trust, who cleverly conceals her true nature.’ She stood. ‘I must finish the cooking.’ She went into the kitchen, her shoulders bowed.

  Jaime brought a glass out of the sideboard, handed it to Alvarez, pushed the bottle across the table. ‘You’re a clever sod!’

  ‘You think I arranged it?’

  ‘How else could you keep Dolores happy and avoid Ana’s trap?’

  ‘Trap?’

  ‘You never understood, but you’re supposed to be the clever one in the family. It never occurred to you to wonder why she should have been eager to be so friendly with you when she told Dolores how despicably you had once treated her.’

  ‘What stupidity are you talking?’ Dolores asked, as she stepped through the bead curtain.

  ‘I was telling him Ana was determined to get her own back, so she used the estate to lure Enrique into marrying her so she could reduce him to even less of a man than she did Emilio.’

  ‘Only you could believe a woman would behave so cruelly.’

  Alvarez awoke. The sunshine was coming through the shutters at an angle which indicated he had enjoyed a very long siesta, but he made no effort to get up. The pleasure which came from the solution of an insoluble problem was not to be lightly disturbed.

  Not that it was undiluted pleasure. There was also pain, fear, death.

  Unmarried girls who became pregnant were no longer regarded with hostile scorn, forced to wed at night. But Susanna’s seducer must have disappeared or her parents would have forced him to marry her. An inspector in the Cuerpo was not expected to help an emotionally injured young woman, but when he recalled her, bewildered, depressed, defeated, he determined he would identify the boy and force him to act honourably.

  He crossed to the front door of Ca’n Mortex. He knocked, when there was no response, knocked again. After a while, the door was opened by Caroline.

  ‘What d’you want now?’ she demanded.

  ‘I wish to speak to Roldan.’

  ‘The tradesmen’s entrance is at the back.’ She slammed the door shut.

  Tradesman. On the island, that was an expression of worth. She had not intended it as such. He walked around the house. Roldan and Marcial were in conversation, of some emotion to judge by their hands and arms. They stared at him, then Roldan came down a narrow earth path between two rows of melons.

  ‘Good afternoon, Inspector.’

  ‘How is Susanna?’

  ‘In hospital, but recovering.’

  ‘I’m very glad.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Will you give her my wishes for a quick recovery?’

  ‘With pleasure.’

  ‘I’d like a word with you.’

  ‘More problems, Inspector?’

  ‘This is more a private matter.’ He noted Roldan’s sudden uneasiness. No father willingly talked about his unmarried daughter’s pregnancy.

  They went into the staff sitting-room. ‘Can I offer you something?’ Roldan asked.

  ‘A coñac with ice only would be very welcome.’

  He left, soon returned with two glasses, handed Alvarez one, sat.

  ‘Your wife has told you about this morning?’

  ‘We are very grateful for your help. Marta would not have known what to do without it. The virus sometimes affects Susanna very suddenly.’

  ‘I have been told she is not suffering from a virus, she is pregnant. Is that true?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I can have a word with someone at the hospital who will tell me whether or not that is so.’

  Roldan drank.

  ‘Is she there because of her pregnancy?’

  Roldan finally nodded.

  ‘There is trouble?’

  ‘They . . . they think she may abort.’

  A cruel solution, but a solution. ‘Tell me who the lad is and I will get hold of him and make him accept his responsibilities.’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘It may take time if he has scarpered, but . . .’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, why won’t you understand? You can’t.’

  The despair and pain of a parent who feared his daughter had been seduced by a boy whose family believed they had the powers to protect him from the consequences? ‘The name, Evaristo. If your worry is the boy’s family, there are ways – moral pressure, the possibility of the truth becoming known and the adverse effect of this to the family.’

  ‘Leave me alone.’

  Alvarez hesitated, returned to his car. He picked up a pack of cigarettes from the dashboard, tapped one out, struck a match. The brief spurt of light ignited a different form of light in his brain.

  Roldan had said, ‘You can’t,’ as if in emotional pain. As Salas would pontificate, the meaning of ‘can not’ was to be unable.

 

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