Murder Majorcan Style, page 4
‘That’s very soon,’ Alvarez said.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘It doesn’t give me time to arrange things.’
‘There is no arrangement to be done by you. As expected by both Jaime and you, I will be left to do everything.’
‘I’ll try to make it . . .’ Alvarez began.
‘And will succeed.’ She went across to a cupboard, returned with two ensaimadas on a plate.
‘The case I’m on is exploding . . .’
‘It may be blown over Puig Major, you will still be here when Ana arrives.’
‘You don’t understand . . .’
‘I understand perfectly. Being a man, you lack the moral courage to face your shameful past.’
‘She must be mixing me up with someone else.’
‘You wish to accuse her of being promiscuous?’
‘I’m not accusing her of anything.’
‘Then you have no reason to fear meeting her.’
He pulled off a piece of ensaimada and ate.
He opened the bottom right-hand drawer of the desk in his office, brought out an unopened bottle of Fundador. After a second brandy, he found sufficient willpower to phone.
‘Superior Chief Salas’ office,’ Àngela Torres said.
‘Inspector Alvarez.’
‘Wait.’
Had she gone into the army, she would very soon have been posted sergeant major.
As always, Salas did not waste time with a friendly greeting. ‘Yes?’
‘The post-mortem of Señor Sterne has taken place, señor.’
‘Well?’
He was pleasantly surprised that Salas had not asked when it had taken place which would have highlighted his delay in reporting. ‘Doctor Antignac found no cause for death and because of this has stated death was due to vagal inhibition. It means he may well have died from fear.’
‘Obviously.’
‘How much do you know about lividity, señor?’
‘Not a question there is any need to ask.’
‘The thing is, I hadn’t fully understood what it could indicate.’
‘Do not judge others by your inadequacies.’
‘There were white patches on the back of the head, shoulders, buttocks and calves.’
‘Has someone been able to persuade you to understand what that signifies?’
‘The doctor reckons . . .’ He hesitated, then in a rush of words, said: ‘The señor lay on the ground for some time after his death.’
‘After which, you are about to tell me, he climbed into the car and expired a second time with a coin in his mouth.’
‘There wasn’t one as far as I know.’
‘That will be a very short distance. I was referring to Charon’s fee.’
‘I don’t quite follow you.’
‘I should be surprised if you did. Can you recall how you initially reported this case?’
‘Señor Sterne had committed suicide in his car by gassing himself with the exhaust fumes. But even though that has been proved to be wrong, it was logical to believe it to be the case at the beginning.’
‘That you believed it logical would have warned anyone but yourself that it was not. Did you then inform me he had not died from monoxide poisoning?’
‘The garage and car were filled with exhaust fumes and he was slumped over the wheel. Of course, I am no expert in . . .’
‘Very many things. I recall that you considered he had died from a heart attack whilst trying to open a door. The post-mortem negates that possibility?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then what is your present imaginative interpretation of events?’
‘Some other person caused the señor to suffer such great fear that this resulted in his dying. Although his death may not have been intended, the law holds it to be murder. So it was made to look like suicide.’
‘Your method of investigation would seem to be to pursue all probabilities and possibilities in the hope that when only one is left, you may be able to claim it to be the correct one.’
‘I thought . . .’
‘Have you taken more reasonable steps than that in order to make some progress?’
‘I began to look through his papers to find out if they provided a possible cause for suicide.’
‘“You began.” You did not bother to finish?’
‘At the time, there seemed no point when it became clear he had not committed suicide.’
‘It will not have occurred to you that they might well offer a motive for his murder.’
‘That is why I will return to them very soon. I have learned that he was wealthy.’
‘To most, that would have been obvious.’
‘A lifestyle doesn’t necessarily indicate wealth, merely the art of finding the means to spend.’
‘The one art in which you have some knowledge? Have you identified who are his heirs?’
‘His will and other confidential papers are probably in the safe.’
‘Have you thought to open it to confirm your judgement?’
‘It is locked.’
‘That surprises you?’
‘I have made a quick search for the keys in all the usual places where they might be hidden and have not found them. So on my return, I will make a thorough search and if I fail to find them, will, with your permission, call in a locksmith.’
‘Beyond that obvious step, have you planned the course of your investigation.’
‘Not yet, señor.’
‘A strangely honest answer.’
‘I have only very recently been able to appreciate the need to do so because of the change in circumstances.’
‘Circumstances do not change, it is the appreciation of them which does. Have you thought to consider why someone had cause to threaten him so violently, he died from shock?’
‘He was not popular.’
‘Why not?’
‘He was rich.’
‘You deem that cause for unpopularity?’
‘In many cases, it is.’
‘One must expect you to have a bitter view of success. Have you identified one or more persons who are known to have disliked him?’
‘I haven’t had time . . .’
‘To do anything of relevance.’
‘He was very friendly with the ladies.’
‘You can be expected to show more interest in what you are doing.’
‘If some of them are married, it immediately raises the possibility of a revengeful husband.’
‘You imagine any married women succumbing to his lust? It is beyond your comprehension to picture a wife who remains faithful, whatever the temptation?’
‘These days, there are far fewer of them than before.’
‘Only in a mind such as yours. You will ascertain who is the señor’s heir, you will question the staff exhaustively, you will find out who visited the house on Monday morning, you will . . .’
As he listened, Alvarez stared through the window at the wall of the building on the other side of the road and wondered if the evening would prove to be even more exhausting.
FIVE
As Alvarez drove up to Ca’n Mortex, past the multicoloured flower beds, a battered Seat Panda, driven by Roldan, came round the house quickly enough to drag the tyres along the gravel when braked sharply. Alvarez called out through the opened window – his car lacked air-conditioning – and Roldan left the Panda and came across.
‘Are you in a hurry?’ Alvarez asked. ‘If not, I need to talk.’
‘I’m on my way to the health centre. Susanna has just phoned to say she’s ready to come home.’
His sympathy was immediate. ‘I hope she’s not ill?’
‘Just a check-up. I’d be grateful if I might fetch her right away. I won’t be long.’
‘Of course.’
‘Thank you, Inspector. I am most grateful. Marta will give you coffee and any help she can.’
Alvarez watched him return to the Panda, drive around his own car and away. There had still been a touch of deference in his manner. But then he was a Galician. And the unwelcome thought came to mind that there were occasions when someone might wrongly consider him to be slightly deferential to Salas.
Marta, wearing a black dress of angular cut, which emphasized the angularity of her appearance, opened the front door. He introduced himself since their first meeting had been so brief and was not surprised by her momentary uneasiness. Nothing could remind a person of his or her peccadilloes more sharply than a sudden meeting with the law. ‘I wanted a word with your husband, but when he told me where he was going, I said I’d wait for him here.’ How could Marta have sired a daughter of such beauty? It seemed to contradict livestock breeding where improvement came after mating quality to quality.
‘That was kind of you.’ She was more at ease. ‘Please come in.’
He followed her to the far end of the hall, through a doorway, along a short passage and in to the staff sitting-room. ‘Would you like some coffee, Inspector?’
‘I most certainly would.’
She hurried away, he sat, picked up the day’s copy of Ultima Hora from the small table by the side of the chair. The bad news was in black headlines. The government intended to raise the tax on alcohol. He put the paper down in case he also learned it was to be rationed.
She returned with a tray on which were cup and saucer, silver sugar bowl, teaspoon, jug of milk, and two icing sugar dusted buns on a plate.
‘I’d be grateful if you can find time to have a chat?’ he said, as she placed the tray by his side after moving the discarded newspaper.
‘I suppose so.’ She sat.
‘You are not having some coffee?’
‘Never in the middle of the morning.’
He admired, but did not try to emulate, those who led an ordered life. He took a bite out of one of the buns. ‘Did you cook these?’
‘Yes.’
‘They’re delicious.’
She showed small pleasure at his compliment – perhaps, like Dolores, she regarded it as no more than was her due; alternatively, her thoughts were with her daughter. ‘Have you learned the señor did not commit suicide?’
‘I’ve heard that said.’
‘He was probably murdered.’
‘Sweet Mary!’
He waited until she had overcome the shock before he said: ‘Are the señor’s son and daughter here?’
‘They left after breakfast. They come and go all the time.’
‘Then you can’t be certain if they’ll be back for lunch?’
‘They’ll phone if they want a meal here, unworried whether I’ve the time to prepare anything.’
‘Very thoughtless.’
‘They do not consider others.’
‘Tell me about the señor.’
‘What is there to tell?’
‘Your husband said he had few friends. Would you agree with that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yet the señor did sometimes entertain.’
‘Those who came here did so in order to eat and drink at his expense.’
‘He was friendly with several women?’
‘Yes.’
‘I imagine you must have disapproved of his behaviour?’
‘As any decent woman would.’
‘How would you describe the women who stayed here? Pleasant, friendly, bitchy?’
‘I was careful to have little to do with them.’
‘Were some of them married?’
‘It was not my job to know.’
‘Yet some of them may have removed their rings and forgotten about the band of white skin around the fingers which never saw the sun.’
‘Married women have stayed here.’
‘Many?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘If a husband learned about his wife’s affair, he would have had every reason to have hated the señor.’
‘Do foreigners worry about such things?’
‘If a husband came here and accused the señor, there would have been a very angry row and threats made. Did that ever happen?’
She did not answer.
‘I can understand your reluctance to talk about such matters, as was your husband, but I have to know.’
After a while, she said: ‘There was a señor who came here and it was impossible not to understand there was trouble.’
‘Was he married to one of the women who stayed here?’
‘I cannot be certain.’
‘His name?’
Once again, she paused before answering. ‘Park or Parry; I cannot say which.’
‘There was only this one occasion when there was a fierce row?’
‘I remember no other.’
‘I think you knew Janet.’
‘She was not like the others.’ Marta began to speak freely. ‘She did not treat us as servants to be ignored; if we met, she always had a chat. Many times, she told me how much she enjoyed my cooking. None of the others said a word, even when I had taken endless trouble to serve a wonderful dish.’
Did cooks ever downgrade their own cooking? ‘Was she married?’
‘I thought not.’
‘Your husband told me she was very fond of the señor.’
‘Until he insulted her by having another woman when she returned to England for a while.’
‘Was he very upset when she left him?’
‘He scorned what he could take, demanded what he should not. She learned he’d enjoyed another woman’s company while she was away and for her, unlike those others, love extended beyond the bed.’
He spoke slowly. ‘I think I’ve asked all the questions I need to.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s late and I can’t wait any longer. Tell your husband I’ll speak with him tomorrow. And I’ll also have a word with the son and daughter.’
‘If they are here.’
‘Ask them to make certain they are.’
‘You think they will listen?’
‘Why not?’
‘When you’ve met her, you will understand.’
He left.
What went up, had to come down; death followed life; the ecstasy of sliding into the sleep of a siesta, led to the pain of awakening.
He made his way downstairs. Dolores, her brow prickled with sweat, was working at the stove. She spoke without looking round. ‘You have not gone into hibernation, then.’
‘I was exhausted.’
‘You have done some work?’
He sat at the table. ‘What are you cooking?’
‘I am preparing Costelletes de porc amb salsa de magranes for supper.’
Seared pork chops in olive oil and pork dripping, diced onions, white wine, vinegar, cinnamon, seeds and pulp of pomegranates . . . ‘It’s one of your masterpieces.’
‘It is unusual to receive such praise.’
‘Why the special supper?’
Her tone sharpened. ‘You need to ask?’
Clearly, his question had been inadvisable, but he could not fathom why.
She brought a wooden spoon out of the saucepan and put it down on the side of the gas ring. ‘You have forgotten.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘Just for the moment, I can’t recall . . .’
‘Does it cost you much effort to forget?’
‘How do you mean?’ He tried to change the conversation. ‘Is there some cocoa?’
‘Over there.’ She pointed.
He crossed to the working surface, picked up the cup. ‘It’s cold.’
‘It was hot when you would have come down had you intended to return to work on time.’
‘Could you heat it for me?’
‘You will do that for yourself or wait until I have finished what I am doing.’
‘I’ll wait.’
‘Your exhaustion is so severe?’ She opened the lid of another saucepan, inspected the contents, replaced the lid. ‘You can bring me three avocados from the fruit rack since I need six halves as the children will be eating with us.’
‘You are preparing a starter?’
‘Aguacates con heuvas de salmón.’
‘It’s going to be a feast!’
‘In the circumstances, you would expect me to serve garbanzos? You will wear a clean shirt, clean shorts, and polish your sandals.’
He was astonished. ‘Maybe you would like me to wear a tie as well?’
‘If you can recall how to knot it. As you are too exhausted to help me, I will get them.’ She hurried across the kitchen, examined half a dozen avocados and chose three, put these on the table.
‘You can move into the sitting room and leave me some room to work.’
‘Are Ángel and Raquel coming here?’
‘As my dear mother so often had reason to say, “A man will always forget when it suits him to do so.” As I said this morning, Ana will be here for supper.’
‘I don’t think you did say . . .’
‘I said.’
‘Even though I don’t know her, I’ve been looking forward to meeting the unknown lady from the past. Unfortunately . . .’
‘You would rather eat the menu del dia at one of the cafés?’
Face Ana Loup or miss the banquet.
For the umpteenth time, he mentally tried to identify Ana. If he knew her maiden name, it might help. There was Ana who had jeered at his incompetence; Ana who had offered much and fulfilled her promise; Ana whose mother had been so old-fashioned she had made certain her daughter was never in his company without the presence of an interfering female relative . . .
The phone interrupted his unavailing search.
‘Inspector Alvarez, Cuerpo . . .’
Salas said: ‘I had been expecting to receive a report from you, having briefly forgotten that optimism is the enemy of reality.’
‘Señor, I have been . . .’
‘Finally, I instructed my secretary to phone you at the post. The call was not answered.’
‘I was . . .’
‘I suggested she used the mobile. She found yours was switched off, despite my order that all members of the Cuerpo were to keep theirs active when on duty.’
‘Mine was on, but recently it has been behaving very erratically.’
‘As one must expect with anything with which you have contact.’
‘When I was out of the office, I was down in the port.’
‘For what reason?’
‘There have been several incidents of shoplifting there. I have tried to identify the man believed to be responsible, but without success.’
