An Air of Murder

by Roderic Jeffries

  ‘Her heir, Señor, is you.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous!’

  ‘My information comes from the English police.’

  ‘Even so, there has to be a mistake.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘Why would she leave me a penny?’

  ‘Perhaps because you and the señora took the trouble to be friendly when at your brother’s home.’

  ‘All we ever did was have a bit of a chat and a laugh.’

  ‘If a person is unhappy and alone, treated without sympathy, perhaps even with contempt, any sign of friendship can be very treasured.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘You had no idea she had named you her heir?’

  ‘How on earth could I? If you’d asked me, I’d have said – as I did just now – that if she had anything much to leave, it would all go to her nephew . . . Frankly, even if it was the police who told you this, I think it’s a ridiculous mistake.’ There was a brief silence.

  ‘Señor, I have to ask some questions which may seem strange.’

  ‘After what you’ve just told us, brillig and slithy toves are models of normalcy.’

  ‘Would you describe yourself as financially secure?’

  ‘My sense of humour doesn’t stretch that far.’

  ‘And you have in the past been helped financially by your sister-in-law?’

  ‘No,’ Laura said sharply, ‘by his brother.’

  ‘What has any of this to do with you?’ Gerrard demanded, embarrassment fuelling sudden annoyance.

  ‘I regret, but I have to know.’

  ‘You’re investigating Dora’s death, not my finances.’

  ‘Have you been living here without paying rent to Lady Gerrard who owns the property?’

  After a long while, Gerrard muttered: ‘Yes.’

  Laura said; ‘Jerome, not the family trust, bought Ca’n Plomo and Ca’n Dento and he suggested Charles tried living here to find out if the ambience helped his writing. Naturally, we offered to pay rent, but Jerome refused and told us we could live here for as long as we wanted, rent free.’

  ‘But that has changed?’

  ‘My sister-in-law,’ she replied, tone expressing what she did not put into words, ‘has decided she needs to increase her income to match her spending. One way of doing that, while at the same time getting her own back . . .’

  ‘Steady on,’ Gerrard said.

  ‘You know as well as I that the rent means nothing to her; the attraction is the vindictive pleasure of knowing she’s making your life more difficult.’

  ‘Why should she wish to do that, Señora?’ Alvarez asked. ‘Because she’s never understood she’s hopelessly wrong about Charles. He does not look down on her because of her background. She cannot understand that he judges everyone on who they are, not where they’ve come from—’

  Gerrard interrupted her. ‘I don’t think you’re being fair.’

  ‘Because you’re too reluctant to believe the worst, because you’re concerned about keeping family matters within the family. But the Inspector asked a question because he wants to know what the relationship was and is. You can’t deny Jerome always did his best to make up for what he had and you didn’t, whereas she loves to flaunt the difference.’

  ‘Vive la difference and let it all hang out.’

  ‘Stop trying to use humour to conceal your feelings.’

  ‘Thank you for those few kind words.’

  ‘Señora, when you say your brother-in-law made up for what he had and your husband did not, what exactly does that mean?’

  ‘The English law of primogeniture. It keeps large estates intact, but means the elder brother inherits everything and the younger brother nothing. When he was alive, Jerome helped him as much as the trust allowed him to; after he died, Heloise has made certain Charles is on his own.’

  ‘To the extent that she is also asking you to pay the fees at the school at which your son studies?’

  Gerrard said sharply: ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Is it true?’

  ‘Yes. And I’ll ask again, how do you know that?’

  ‘Señor, you must understand that the source of a policeman’s information has to remain confidential.’

  ‘But not unidentifiable. We were given the news when we had a meal with Heloise. Presumably, Filipe, whom I’ve always guessed understood far more English than was apparent or she accepted, passed on the information to you?’ Alvarez did not answer.

  ‘And you are asking questions which on the face of things can have no connection with Dora’s death because you believe that in truth they may be very pertinent as well as impertinent?’

  ‘Charles,’ she said, ‘how on earth can paying rent or school fees possibly have anything to do with Dora?’

  ‘Remember what the Inspector told us earlier about the will. We are facing financial meltdown, since having paid the rent, even if we give up eating and drinking, there’s no way in which we’ll be able to afford the fees at Barnsford Close. So . . .’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘If a small fortune were suddenly to arrive out of the blue sea, all our problems would be solved.’

  ‘Surely to God you’re not suggesting . . .’

  ‘I am not, but like the queen, the Inspector is capable of believing one impossible thing after breakfast, as well as six before.’

  She spoke shrilly. ‘Do you have to go on and on talking nonsense?’

  ‘How else to calm my nerves? And beneath the nonsense is, I promise you, hard sense . . . Let the Inspector prove my point. Inspector, are you not trying to determine whether or not I might have killed Dora?’

  ‘Señor, as I have said, I am doing no more than examining all possibilities.’

  ‘And I provide a very interesting one?’

  She faced Alvarez, her expression drawn tight from panicky anger. ‘How can you begin to think Charles could do so terrible a thing?’

  ‘Señora, I have not said that I do.’

  She turned to her husband. ‘Then for God’s sake, stop it.’

  ‘As was said by an Irishman after visiting a Trappist monastery, “The truth is spoken in the unspoken words.”

  . . . Inspector, why do you consider me a prime suspect?’

  ‘As I said to the señora . . .’

  ‘We are now discussing what you didn’t say.’

  ‘I find that difficult.’

  ‘But far from impossible if one uses a little logical imagination. If we were one small step from bankruptcy, Dora’s extraordinary bequest meant our financial problems could disappear as quickly as snow in the Sahara. True. But such projection raises a problem. How could I know the details of her will? Do you have an answer?’

  ‘If I also may employ a little imagination, at some time in the past, she told you what she intended.’

  ‘Why should she do that?’

  ‘To express her thanks for your wife’s and your past friendliness.’

  ‘I would never say she was a woman to value the past.’

  ‘Then to enjoy the pleasure gained from your gratitude.’

  ‘She found it difficult to enjoy her own pleasure, let alone anyone else’s.’

  ‘Perhaps her motive was less honourable than we’re allowing – her pleasure relied on knowing you would be beholden to her.’

  ‘Far too subtle for a straightforward, rather mean character. To prevent the need for ever greater demands on imagination, let me assure you that until you told us a few minutes ago, I had not the slightest idea Dora had either capital to leave or that she intended to leave it to me.’ He waited, then said: ‘You don’t believe that?’

  ‘I have no concrete reason to believe or disbelieve you at present.’

  ‘So you’ll content yourself with merely surmising I murdered Dora?’

  ‘Stop it!’ Laura said furiously.

  ‘Right. We call a moratorium on supposition, suspicion, and susceptive possibility, and have another drink.’

  ‘Señ
or, unfortunately there is one more question I have to ask.’

  ‘Then get it over with.’

  ‘Where were you last Tuesday evening?’

  ‘Which is when Dora died?’

  There was no answer.

  ‘You are asking for my alibi?’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘Charles was here all the time,’ Laura said fiercely. ‘Would it be possible to corroborate that fact?’ Alvarez asked.

  ‘Haven’t I just done so?’

  ‘Someone other than yourself, Señora.’

  ‘You are calling me a liar?’

  ‘I would not do so.’

  ‘Because you’re too mealy-mouthed to come out with it?’

  ‘Because I always believe “a person until I have reason not to.’

  Gerrard said: ‘Then since Laura’s telling the truth, I have an alibi.’ He stood. ‘If you’ll pass me your glass, Inspector?’

  ‘I don’t think the Inspector has time for another drink,’ Laura said.

  Alvarez admired the courteous way in which she had told him to bugger off. A Mallorquin could also show good manners. He stood. ‘Thank you for your help, Señora, and for your hospitality.’

  She ignored him.

  He walked through the house. As he opened the front door, Gerrard hurried up. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘There is nothing to apologise for, Señor.’

  ‘Laura is very protective.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘She found it very difficult to understand that you are obliged to suspect me.’

  ‘It is my unfortunate duty, however unlikely it seems.’ As Alvarez drove away, his thoughts were confused. Had Gerrard’s facetious, courteous manner suggested guilt or innocence? If innocence, wouldn’t he have protested that innocence with more vigour? A Mallorquin would have been shouting. If he was guilty, would he have introduced the possibility of guilt instead of waiting for his accuser to do so? Had innocence been arming him or had his manner been a cloak for guilt?

  Fourteen

  THE PHONE AWOKE ALVAREZ. HE DRAGGED HIMSELF UPRIGHT, reached across the desk, and lifted the receiver.

  ‘Were you fast asleep?’ Salas demanded.

  ‘At this time of the day, Señor?’

  ‘Then why did it take you all afternoon to answer?’

  ‘I was downstairs, checking some evidence, and had just stared to climb the stairs when I heard the phone in my room ring. I came up as quickly as I could.’

  ‘Then you should start taking exercise . . . Have you established whether the Englishwoman drowned accidentally or was murdered?’

  ‘Not yet, Señor. It is a confusing case.’

  ‘Which it was bound to become in your hands. Have you made any progress at all?’

  ‘In a negative way, yes.’

  ‘Do I have to point out that progress should be made in a positive way?’

  ‘I have raised certain questions which have to be answered.’

  ‘It has not yet occurred to you to answer them?’

  ‘I judged it best to continue the investigation in reverse.’

  ‘A decision that you no doubt found quite logical.’

  ‘That was because of something you said. Rather, that you didn’t say.’

  ‘Alvarez, have you a family history of mental deficiency?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  ‘Then your knowledge probably does not extend far enough since you believe a case should be conducted in a negative, reverse manner because of something your superior chief did not say.’

  ‘I have been told there was an Irishman who held that when one wants to hear the truth one should listen to what is not said.’

  ‘Then we may take it there is Irish blood in you. Have you conducted any inquiries which can be considered even faintly constructive?’

  ‘As you said, Señor, motive is very often the key to the case. So identify a strong motive for the señorita’s death and it becomes much more likely she was murdered rather than that she drowned accidentally.’

  ‘Have you established a motive?’

  ‘Señor Gerrard is Lady Gerrard’s brother-in-law. While she is clearly a very wealthy woman, he is equally obviously very far from wealthy since he and his wife live in a caseta. I don’t know of any other foreigners who are in such reduced circumstances as they . . .’

  ‘I should prefer not to listen to all you don’t know since I want to return home before midnight.’

  ‘Lady Gerrard owns the caseta and until now, Señor Gerrard has paid no rent, but she is demanding he starts to do so. Again, the trust – which manages the estate belonging to Lady Gerrard; at least, as far as I can understand the position, that is . . .’

  ‘Do not try to explain and confuse matters inextricably.’

  ‘Dale, Señor Gerrard’s son, is at public school in England. The fees are very considerable and although the trust has been paying them, Lady Gerrard has said it will no longer do so. Señor Gefrard cannot afford to pay these, so . . .’

  ‘Why is the financial situation of these foreigners of the slightest consequence?’

  ‘I was coming to that.’

  ‘Then do so more succinctly.’

  ‘Dora Coates possessed a bungalow which is valued at a hundred and twenty thousand pounds and she had over eighty thousand pounds in two banks . . .’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I’ve received a fax from England.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Recently, Señor, and this is the first opportunity I’ve had to report it to you. The details the fax provided may well prove very relevant.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Señor Gerrard is the main beneficiary under Señorita Coates’s will. He stands to inherit everything but a thousand pounds and some furniture.’

  ‘Have you questioned him?’

  ‘He denies having had any knowledge of the will or the contents.’

  ‘You find it likely he would do otherwise? I don’t suppose it occurred to you to ask if he could supply an alibi covering the relevant times?’

  ‘Indeed, I did. His wife confirms they were at home and neither of them left the house that night.’

  ‘There is no independent confirmation?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you made inquiries in Port Llueso to determine whether he was seen down there during the relevant period?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘There’s hardly been time . . .’

  ‘A mantra for inefficiency. Is there any further evidence to suggest his guilt?’

  ‘None. And despite the obvious motive, I find it difficult to believe he would ever commit murder.’

  ‘On what grounds?’

  ‘He is an English gentleman.’

  ‘You like to judge guilt on character, not facts? . . . And clearly you need to be reminded that they were English “gentlemen” who were the pirates who plundered our treasure galleons as they returned from the New World.’

  ‘That’s a long time ago.’

  ‘National character does not change.’

  ‘Which in a way is what I was saying . . .’

  ‘Have you found the time to question Short? Or do you consider him also to be a gentleman?’

  ‘He’s far from one. And, of course, he was not only in the port at the relevant time, by his own account, he waded into the sea.’

  ‘But being facts, such details are of small account?’

  ‘From the beginning, he has been the obvious suspect. But there is no apparent motive for his having murdered his aunt; indeed, you could say he had a negative motive for not doing so.’

  ‘I should prefer not to.’

  ‘All he inherits on her death is a thousand pounds and the contents of her house and these seem to be almost valueless. Since she paid for his holiday, it must be reasonable to assume she might well have offered him further benefits, so her death presents him with a potential loss.’
/>
  ‘Gerrard is the only suspect?’

  ‘Yes. But as I said earlier . . .’

  ‘Then there is no need to repeat yourself.’

  ‘But wouldn’t you agree with me . . .’

  ‘Only ever reluctantly.’

  ‘. . . that accidental drowning has become more likely than murder?’

  ‘Until you can be certain no one saw Señor Gerrard in Port Llueso that Tuesday night, that the incision on the victim’s head was not caused by a fingernail, that the cry which was heard was not a cry of terror, that you have failed to identify further possible motives for murder, that an English gentleman is incapable of acting now as he has so often in the past, I should not make the egregious mistake of offering a judgement.’ He cut the connection.

  Alvarez checked the time, was irritated to learn he would have to wait before he returned home for a well-earned rest or the question might be asked, why hadn’t he driven down to the port and begun inquiries to ascertain whether Gerrard had been seen there on the Tuesday evening. Only a man of Salas’s intemperate character would suggest so thankless a task. What were the odds against success?

  The phone rang. He stared at it with fresh annoyance. The rush of life had deprived man of the benefits of ignorance. Before modern means of communication, a problem could not instantly be passed on and so there was always a very good chance it would have been sorted out one way or the other by the time an inspector in the Cuerpo was informed about it. He finally lifted the receiver.

  ‘You’ve got . . .’ The sound faded.

  It returned. ‘. . . here quick.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘I just told you.’

  ‘I couldn’t hear most of what you were saying.’

  ‘The mobile don’t work well here and there ain’t no telephone even though Telefonica promised . . .’ Once again, the sound faded. It returned. ‘The body what Marta found is in one of the fields back of the olives.’

  ‘Where are you speaking from?’

  ‘Vail d’en Fangat.’

  The valley was in the mountains, at least three-quarters of an hour’s drive away. ‘Call the Guardia and tell them there’s a body to collect.’

  ‘It’s them what told me to .tell you.’

  There were always some who would go to any lengths to avoid their duty. ‘Get back on to them and . . .’