‘How drunk did that make her?’
‘Can’t give you more than a generalisation because each person tends to react differently to the same amount of alcohol; a normally heavy drinker will be affected noticeably less than a light one. This reading falls within the limits of what some mistakenly term “social drinking”, the obvious signs of which can be inhibitions lessened, talking volubly or to some extent incoherently, attitude becoming more friendly or more antagonistic than when sober.’
‘Could she had reached the stage of drunkenness that when she fell and her head went under water, she just didn’t have the instinct to try to save herself by standing up?’
‘I shouldn’t have thought her instinct of self-preservation had been lost, but as I said earlier, one can seldom be certain to what degree an individual will be affected.’
‘I do know she had been drinking heavily during the few days she was on the island.’
‘One needs the history of her drinking over a much longer period before drawing any conclusions.’
‘It’s a very important point of the case.’
‘The ones we can’t answer so often are.’
It was astonishing how light-heatedly someone would confess ignorance when he didn’t have to overcome it, Alvarez thought.
He replaced the receiver. In view of the other’s very qualified belief that probably Dora Coates had not been so drunk as to fall down in the water and make no effort to save herself from drowning, the request to the English police for information had become of more importance . . . He finally made up his mind, lifted the receiver, dialled.
‘Yes?’ said the plum-voiced secretary.
‘Inspector Alvarez. I’d like to speak to the superior chief.’
‘Wait.’
Several minutes later, Salas said: ‘Yes?’
‘Inspector Alvarez, Señor . . .’
‘Well?’
‘I’ve just received a resume of the p.m. evidence.’ He repeated what he had been told. ‘So it seems we should regard murder as more likely than accident, but accept accident as a possibility. Following that . . .’
‘You excel yourself.’
He was gratified Salas should consider his report to be succinct and all-embracing.
‘I cannot recall having ever received a more incompetent report.’
He should have remembered the old Mallorquin saying, ‘Never sell the calf before the cow has calved.’
‘Señor, they were unable to tell me anything more . . .’
‘As you have failed to identify whom or what you are talking about, your report is meaningless.’
‘But surely you know that?’
‘You believe I am a mind-reader?’
‘I hope not.’
‘What the devil do you mean by that?’
He hastily tried to cover what he had meant. ‘I imagine it could become an unwelcome ability, Señor.’
‘It would inevitably lead to utter confusion whenever you were involved . . . I find it extraordinary you lack the competence even to understand the necessity of identifying the case, and about whom, you are reporting.’
‘I thought it must be obvious.’
‘It did not occur to you that at any one moment, I have to consider dozens of cases – thankfully, mostly handled by competent officers?’
‘But surely you are not dealing with another case in which a woman was drowned in circumstances which raise the problem of determining whether death was deliberate or accidental?’
‘You are trying to be insolent?’
‘Of course not.’
‘I am to believe your words are no more than thoughtlessness?’
‘But how can you . . . Señor, I have rung you because I think we need to ask the British police to provide us with any information they can concerning Señorita Coates.’
‘Why?’
‘Possible motive will be very important.’
‘I should be interested to learn what part you believe motive might have played if her death was accidental?’
‘What I meant . . .’
‘It might help you to present a lucid report if you could take the trouble to decide just what you do mean before you speak.’
‘If we find that were it murder we can identify a motive, then we can accept such motive makes murder more likely.’
‘It seems my previous words were far too optimistic. One could well describe what you have just said as illogical incomprehensibility. ’
‘The obvious possible motives for murdering a middle-aged, physically unattractive woman do not seem to be many so that there has to be a good chance information about her will pinpoint one that is valid. I should like to ask the British authorities to provide us with as wide an evaluation of her background and financial position as possible.’
‘Since there is no need to detail the course of your reasons for its being made, I agree.’ Salas cut the connection.
Alvarez replaced the receiver, leaned over and opened the bottom right-hand drawer of the desk, brought out a bottle and a glass. He briefly remembered his promise to himself to reduce his drinking, but decided that after a conversation with the superior chief, a brandy became a medical necessity.
He drove past Ca’n Dento, turned left up a wide tarmacked road which ran between fields, stopped in front of Ca’n Jerome. Not unusually, the exterior looked as if the architect – assuming there had been one – had been suffering from some nervous complaint; there were even more roof levels than the eye initially accepted and in addition to this confusion, the portico was of such grand dimensions it was out of proportion to the whole.
He stepped out of the car, briefly stared at the garden and wondered how much it cost to maintain and how much water it consumed, crossed the gravel drive, entered the portico, and pressed the bell to the side of the large wooden door, panelled in a design typical of Granada. The door was opened by Filipe, dressed in white jacket, white shirt and black tie, striped trousers.
Alvarez identified himself. ‘I want a word with Lady Gerrard,’ he said in Mallorquin.
‘Is she in trouble?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
Filipe did not try to hide his disappointment. ‘You’d better come in.’
Alvarez followed through a couple of rooms as luxuriously furnished as any he had ever seen, out on to the patio. From his experience of wealthy foreigners, he had expected to meet a middle-aged or elderly woman, dowdily dressed, skin wrinkled and shape sagging; he faced a woman in her late twenties or early thirties, dressed with expensive chic, her skin smooth and her shape, as she lay on a chaise longue, exciting to a man of imagination; dark glasses added a hint of hidden delights.
‘Is Inspector Alvarez—’ Filipe began in English.
She interrupted him. ‘How many time have I told you not to bring someone through before you have informed me who has called so that I can decide whether, or not, I am at home?’
‘But you is here, Señora.’
‘For Heaven’s sake, use some intelligence to understand what I’m telling you.’
‘Señora,’ Alvarez said in English, ‘I think he finds difficulty in appreciating the English custom of not being at home when one is at home.’
‘Did I ask you?’
‘No, Señora.’
‘Then there is no need to try to explain. Who are you?’
‘Inspector Alvarez of the Cuerpo General de Policia.’
‘What do you want?’
‘To ask you a few questions.’
‘Why?’
‘I am conducting an investigation and you may be able to help me. I expect you have heard that most unfortunately an English lady, Señorita—’ He was interrupted.
‘I’ll have some champagne,’ she said to Filipe. ‘And bring some of those cocktail biscuits. Tell Ana I’ll have lunch at half-past one and this time she’s to cook the steak better and not try to give me almost raw meat to eat.’
‘You tell you like steak raw . . .’
‘Rare. I cannot imagine why I was assured you spoke English well.’
Filipe waited, expecting her to ask Alvarez what he would like to drink. The brandy, Alvarez decided, would be of the finest quality since rich women demanded not only the best for themselves but also for others, since they liked to show their munificence.
‘What are you waiting for?’ she demanded.
Filipe left.
That she intended to drink, but leave him drinkless, confused Alvarez; there could be no greater measure of rudeness, yet he had given her no cause to be rude.
‘How much longer do you intend to stand there?’ she asked.
‘As I said, Señora . . .’
‘My name is Lady Gerrard.’
‘I am sorry, I forgot. We are not used to titles.’
‘Naturally, since they are hardly appropriate for you people. Do you intend to explain why you’re bothering me?’
‘Perhaps you do not know that Señorita Coates very sadly drowned on Tuesday night?’
‘Of course I’ve heard the gossip from people with nothing better to do.’
‘I think you may be able to help me in my investigation into her death.’
‘Nonsense!’
‘Señora . . . Lady Gerrard, it is very hot and tiring. Would you mind if I sit?’
‘You won’t be staying long enough for that.’
‘I may well be here for quite some time, so perhaps you won’t mind?’ Four patio chairs were grouped around a bamboo and glass table and he moved one of them. He was pleased to note her expression of annoyance as he sat. ‘There is some difficulty over the facts of Señorita Coates’s death . . .’
‘Perhaps you failed to understand me. I am not concerned with her.’
‘I understand you met her not long before her death.’
‘I did not.’
‘My information is she called here to see you . . .’
‘I am not responsible for the misinformation you have been given.’
‘She did not come here and speak to you?’
‘I have already answered.’
‘Is it correct she once worked for you?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘You are not certain?’
‘I do not make a point of remembering the names of all the employees I’ve had.’
Filipe returned, carrying a silver salver on which was an individual wine cooler in which stood a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and a Waterford crystal bowl containing small Dutch cheese biscuits. He put the salver down on the table, lifted up the bottle.
‘Don’t shake it,’ she snapped.
He removed the foil and found initial difficulty in unwinding the wire.
‘Haven’t you yet learned how to do that?’
He removed the wire.
‘Hold the bottle nearer a glass in case you make a mess of things. For God’s sake, why do I have to repeat myself time and again?’
He eased the cork free without losing a drop of champagne and began to pour.
‘Not too quickly or it’ll come over the top.’
He filled the glass without further instructions, handed it to her; he was about to leave when Alvarez’s words, spoke in Mallorquin, checked him.
‘Did an English woman come here last Saturday?’
‘What are you saying?’ Heloise demanded. ‘Don’t you know it’s rude to talk when I can’t understand you?’
‘Ignore her,’ Alvarez said.
‘With pleasure, Inspector. Yes, a woman and a man turned up then.’
‘Was her name Dora Coates?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What was his name?’
‘All I heard was her calling him Colin.’
‘Did you learn what the woman wanted?’
‘I was told to clear off after I’d asked the señora if she wanted drinks for them and she’d said, she didn’t. From the look of her, if she’d given them anything, it would have been arsenic.’
‘How long were they here?’
‘I couldn’t say. She must have let them out.’
Heloise spoke furiously. ‘How dare you!’
‘Is wrong?’ Filipe asked.
‘You heard me say you were to speak English, not that awful language I can’t understand. Yet you insisted on—’
‘No,’ Alvarez interrupted, ‘I insisted.’
‘Just who do you think you are, coming into my house and giving orders to my servant?’
‘As a member of the Cuerpo . . .’
‘I don’t give a damn what you’re a member of.’
Then perhaps you should start doing so.’
‘How dare you speak to me like that. I’ve never before met such insolence.’
‘I am sorry you should think that. I have tried to remain polite.’
‘As if any of you know what that word means.’ She spoke to Filipe. ‘Get on with your job.’
‘Perhaps Inspector wish . . .’
‘I don’t give a damn what he wants.’
Filipe still did not move.
‘It’s OK,’ Alvarez said. ‘I’ve nothing more to ask you right now.’
Filipe left.
‘Lady Gerrard,’ Alvarez said, ‘when I asked you if Señorita Coates had come here and spoken to you, you said not. But in fact she did.’
‘My God, now you are daring to call me a liar!’
‘I feel certain you would not lie to a policeman, or to anyone else, so I am sure you just forgot she and a man came here and spoke to you. But since it is important you answer my questions correctly, perhaps you will try to remember exactly what happened.’
She drank avidly, emptying the flute.
The imagined cool, velvet smoothness of some iced brandy became ever more vivid; and as she must be feeling uneasy since he’d exposed her lying . . . ‘I hesitate to speak, for fear it might be considered ill manners, but it is very hot and I am very thirsty.’
She might have swallowed something unpleasant before she said: ‘Filipe can bring another glass.’ She reached out to a bell-push, set in one of the pillars.
‘I am afraid I do not greatly like champagne.’
‘You think I was going to offer you some? He can get you some beer.’
Filipe came out of the house on to the patio.
‘I have been invited to have a drink,’ Alvarez told him in Mallorquin before she had a chance to speak.
‘What’s up with the bitch?’
‘She’s decided to show the generous side of her nature.’
‘If you’d asked me, I’d have said she’d sooner flash her constables at the likes of you and me.’
‘Is there some good coñac in the house?’
‘Will Bisquit Dubouche be good enough for the grand hidalgo?’
For once his imagination had lagged behind fact. ‘Pour a large one and add a couple of cubes of ice.’
Filipe left.
‘Lady Gerrard,’ Alvarez said, ‘it is correct that Señorita Coates came here, isn’t it?’
‘I forgot.’
‘And this was last Saturday?’
‘Yes.’
‘She was with a companion?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who was he?’
‘Her nephew.’
‘What was her reason for coming here?’
‘Is that any of your business?’
‘I can only say when I know the answer to my question.’
‘She mistakenly thought I’d be interested to hear about her life after she left my employment.’
‘You were not interested?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Had you met Señor Short before?’
‘No.’
‘Then why do you think he came with her?’
‘How should I know how their kind think?’
‘Were she and her nephew friendly towards each other?’
‘Too damned friendly . . .’ She cut short the words.
‘You are suggesting their relationship was
of an unusual nature?’
‘If you are making the disgusting suggestion I think you are, I certainly am not.’
‘Then why do you think they were too friendly?’
‘Obviously, because she brought him along.’
Filipe returned, lifted a glass off the salver, and handed it to Alvarez. Even by his own standards, Alvarez acknowledged it was a generous drink. As Filipe returned into the house, Alvarez raised his glass. ‘As we say on this island, much happiness.’ It was obvious she did not return the spirit of the greeting. He drank. Liquid velvet. If ever he won the lottery he would drink Bisquit Dubouche every morning before lunch. And a glassful in the evening to aid digestion. ‘It seems that perhaps their visit disturbed you?’
‘Annoyed me. I’ve better things to do than listen to an exemployee telling me about her uninteresting life.’
‘Did Señorita Coates mention if there were any particular reason for coming here on holiday?’
‘No.’
‘Might it have been in order to see you?’
‘A ridiculous suggestion.’
‘Because she would have known you would not welcome her?’
‘If she had that much intelligence.’
‘Did you meet her again?’ It had been a casual, routine question, but he noticed the sudden tightness of her facial muscles. He watched her reach over to the table and fill her glass – pouring too quickly so that foaming champagne spilled over the rim of the glass. It was a pity Filipe could not have seen that. ‘When did you see her again?’ He spoke as if with the confidence of certainty.
After a while, she muttered: ‘Monday.’
‘She came here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why did she return if she must have known she would not be welcome?’
‘Her kind are incapable of appreciating subtleties.’
His glass was empty. He wondered if a gentle hint would cause her to suggest he might like another drink? It seemed too unlikely to be seriously considered. He stood. ‘Thank you for your assistance.’
She ignored his thanks.
An Air of Murder Page 8
