Murder Majorcan Style, page 18
He smoked as his thoughts reminded him how slow he had been. Only now did he accept the importance of recognizing that eyewitness evidence was notoriously inexact, often downright incorrect. So when independent witnesses gave closely matching evidence, it was well to consider the possibility their evidence was the result of collaboration. Roldan and Marcial had identified the car which had been at Ca’n Mortex as a Citroën hatchback; more significantly, each of them, and Marta, had referred to the dangling skeleton. Marcial claimed to have been badly shaken by the near accident with the outgoing car, so would he have noticed something so insignificant at a moment possibly of near panic? If he had, would he have identified it? Roldan had watched the car leave. At any distance, a dangling skeleton would become a something-or-other. Marta had noticed the car amongst heavy traffic and the dancing skeleton. Would she have done so when amidst a moving throng of people, trying to avoid collisions? She had noted the registration letters, but not the numbers . . . Did she have a sister whose initials were CIM? . . . Did that car exist only in the imagination of the three. Had it been invented to confuse? If so, could there be more than one reason why?
After Sterne’s death, Roldan had been surprisingly, almost subserviently polite, despite his own antagonism. Why? Had Roldan and Marta had reason to hate Sterne?
He left the car, returned to the staff sitting-room. Roldan was still there. ‘The truth is, isn’t it, that the father of Susanna’s baby cannot marry her because he is dead?’
Roldan said nothing.
‘The body of Sterne is still in cold store so his DNA can be determined and matched.’
Roldan spoke tonelessly, disjointedly. ‘It meant nothing. We thought he was showing some kindness. Because of all his putas, it couldn’t occur to us that the sod was interested in someone of her age and innocence. We should have understood that vice breeds on vice. The presents became bigger and more costly. Now we were worried. She began to say how wonderful it must be to be rich. Marta told her to trust a rabid dog rather than him. We decided we must give in our notice and move away. When we told Susanna, she said she would not go with us. Then . . . We learned we had decided too late.’
Alvarez stood, put a hand briefly on Roldan’s shoulder in a gesture of commiseration, left.
He walked around the house to the kitchen garden where Marcial was now cutting artichokes. ‘I want to talk.’
‘So what’s changed?’
‘We’ll go into the shed and sit.’
‘You may be bloody tired because you’ve been on your feet for ten minutes, I’ve work to do.’
‘We can talk in the shed where it’s quiet and solitary, or down at the post where it’s noisy and everybody listens.’
Marcial picked up the cane basket in which were a dozen artichokes, led the way to the garden shed, settled on one of the two rush-bottomed chairs.
‘Susanna is in hospital,’ Alvarez said, ‘facing a possible miscarriage, not the repetition of a viral complaint.’
‘You’re talking shit.’
‘It is to be hoped that a miscarriage is what she suffers.’
‘Only a bastard inspector could say that.’
‘Or one who believes it is the only solution to prevent lives being ruined. You wish her to know her unwanted child was sired by a libertine who seduced her with his wealth?’
There was silence.
‘When did you first learn she was pregnant?’
‘Didn’t know she was.’
‘You have always been fond of her. Marta has told me how you liked to talk to her, show her around the garden, explain how one needed to plant this here and that there. When you learned she was pregnant and that Sterne was the father-to-be, you hated the man as probably you’ve never hated anyone before.’
‘The devil would have bowed to him. Wasn’t content with all the married putas. The bastard had to have her as well. Why couldn’t he leave her alone?’
‘It seems there are no limits to evil, only to good. What did he say to you in the garage that Monday morning?’
‘Didn’t see him.’
‘Were you bringing produce up to the house?’
‘I said I didn’t see him.’
‘And I’m saying he was by his car in the garage and something he said or did triggered your fury.’
Marcial cleared his throat, spat. ‘He said I was a fool to think he’d bother with a peasant’s kid who’d likely caught pox from the last boy who’d enjoyed her.’
‘Which made you so furious, you shouted you’d throttle his rotten life out of him and raised your hands as if about to do so. He fell, dead from fear. Scared, frightened, you went into the house and told Roldan. He said the police should be called, but they’d never believe you hadn’t attacked Sterne. Evaristo is sharp. Knowing you had to prevent the truth becoming known, he said to lift the body in to the car and make it look like suicide.’
‘You can’t prove it,’ Marcial shouted.
‘I’m not going to try to. Even if you had intended to kill Sterne, I would have regretted having to charge you with his death. That you had no such intention, that he died from the shock of facing his own rotten self, there’s no reason to charge you with anything.’
Caroline faced Alvarez. ‘How dare you tell Roldan to order me to come and speak to you. I am here only to say that your ignorant, crude impertinence will be reported to someone with more authority than Superior Chief Salas seems to have.’
‘Señorita, you and your brother will receive a large sum of money from the assurance company. Some of that you will give to a named person in order to avoid the publicity of your father’s being named as guilty of an immoral, criminal offence before his death.’
‘You’re insane to suggest such a terrible thing.’
‘An offence which any decent-minded person must find abhorrent.’
‘You expect me to give you money simply because of your allegation?’
‘If you can show more intelligence than you normally do.’ He was surprised when she did not shriek abuse at him.
‘If you’re trying to say he had affairs, he never denied that. And there was nothing illegal about them.’
He had pondered how explicit he could be. If Caroline knew who the victim was, she would dismiss her father’s conduct as impossible, would never accept her father had lowered himself to seduce the daughter of his employees. ‘The affair was illegal because of the age of the victim.’
‘Are . . . are you saying she was under the age of consent?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re lying.’
He was silent.
‘You can’t prove anything.’
‘It can be proved beyond any doubt. You would not wish to be known as the daughter of such a father.’
‘You’re trying to blackmail us.’
‘The money will be paid to a notario who will be given the name of the recipient, but who will not inform you of her name; all you will learn from him is that neither I, nor anyone connected with me, will receive a single euro.’ With her regard for status and distinction of class, she must agree. With the loving help Susanna’s family would give her, the money might help her eventually to accept the past.
‘Señor,’ Alvarez said, receiver to his ear.
‘Well?’
‘I have a further report to make.’
‘Then get on with it.’
As José Rubalcaba had written in his commentary on politics, the more bloated the lie, the more eagerly the throat widens to swallow it. ‘I have, with considerable difficulty, been able to identify five of the married women with whom Señor Sterne had affairs. In each case, it is certain the husband cannot be considered a suspect. In my opinion, there is unfortunately no chance of naming any other of the women. I have worked as hard, and for as long, as anyone could, but nothing more of significance has come to light, or is likely to.’
‘You are admitting abject failure? The regrettably familiar conclusion to any case you have conducted.’
The call concluded, Alvarez poured himself a glass of Soberano to commemorate one of his more successful failures.
Roderic Jeffries, Murder Majorcan Style
