She began to cry.
He had expected to enjoy deep satisfaction from destroying her arrogance, but as he watched the tears slide down her smooth, creamy cheeks, he was annoyed to find himself feeling sorry for her.
He climbed out of the car and as he walked towards the front door of Ca’n Dento, he tried and failed to enter the mind of someone suddenly given the right to leave poverty and enjoy great luxury.
Laura opened the door. ‘It’s you.’ Conscious her greeting had been far from welcoming, she said quickly: ‘Do come in, Inspector. It’s nice to see you again.’ After a brief pause, she added: ‘I suppose you want a word with Charles?’
‘And with you, Señora.’
‘Have you . . .’ She angrily shook her head, stepped to one side to let him enter.
As he walked from the kitchen on to the vine-covered patio, Gerrard came to his feet. ‘Good morning, Señor.’
‘Let’s vainly hope so. We were about to enjoy the excellent morning custom of coffee with a brandy, so do join us before you explain why you’re here. Bad news should always be allowed to rust a little.’
‘Perhaps it would be better if I speak first.’
‘I doubt it, but something suggests you’re going to.’ They sat.
‘I have come here after speaking to Lady Gerrard.’
‘A veritable Daniel!’ Gerrard said ironically.
‘I explained that I knew she had been suffering blackmail for many years.’
‘Good God! Blackmail over what?’
‘The fact that Sir Jerome was not the father of her son.’
They stared at him, their faces drawn tight by shock. ‘You are serious?’ Gerrard finally asked.
‘It will, of course, require DNA tests to prove that fact, but there can be no doubt.’
She spoke to her husband. ‘Then . . . Then you were Jerome’s heir, not Fergus? And the estate’s yours? Oh, my God!’ She began to cry.
Heloise had cried from anger, Laura from joy. No wonder women confounded men, Alvarez thought.
He walked into the dining-room. Jaime was seated at the table and Dolores stood just in front of the bead curtain; they stared at him with concern.
‘Sweet Mary, where have you been?’ Dolores finally asked. ‘Time and again, the superior chief has phoned and rudely demanded to know where you were and when I couldn’t answer, became even more obnoxious. He has said that if you don’t arrive in Palma within the next half-hour to attend the hearing, he’ll order the Guardia to arrest you. Why aren’t you there?’
‘I forgot about the hearing.’
‘You forgot? So where is your memory – left in a bar?’ The phone rang.
‘That’s him,’ she said. Her brief anger gave way to concern. ‘Shall I say you’ve been involved in a car accident? Or maybe you’ve fallen and been knocked unconscious?’
‘I’ll speak to him. And there’s no need to worry.’
‘No need, when you’ve lost the few wits you once had?’ He went through to the front room.
Salas spoke with such anger that he was barely comprehensible. His authority had been publicly flouted; he had been humiliated by having to apologise to a fellow superior chief and a colonel from the Guardia for the insolent stupidity of his inspector.
‘Señor, perhaps I might explain? It became clear to me that it was necessary to be certain of all the facts in order to pass these on to you before I appeared before the hearing, no matter what delay that caused, for fear that otherwise my answers to some of the questions put to me by the adjudicators might well make them mistakenly believe that although you were in command, you remained ignorant of certain vital facts.
‘Lady Gerrard – I am not certain if she remains that – no longer has any relevant cause for complaint. And without a cause, there can be no justification for a hearing, can there, Señor?’
Salas did not answer.
‘I understand from what you said and didn’t say a moment ago, the adjudicators expressed themselves in robust terms because I failed to appear before them. Knowing how loyally you always defend those under your command, I am sure you will be very content to be able to point out to them that they were rather premature in their criticisms and must consider themselves fortunate they did not convene the hearing, since had they done so – now it can be shown to be totally unnecessary – they would publicly have proved themselves to be ill-advised, especially when one remembers that the efficient officer only pursues a course when he can be certain he is fully justified in doing so. Is that not something you have said to me many times, Señor?’
‘Yes,’ Salas muttered, as if speaking while a nerve gnawed at a wisdom tooth.
‘I was only able to reach the truth after travelling to England . . .’
‘What?’ he shouted.
‘I flew to England.’
‘Who authorised the journey?’
‘No one.’
‘This time you’ve gone too far . . .’
‘Señor, since I was suspended from duty, it was difficult to know who could authorise my journey. As you have often said to me, an officer in the Cuerpo is expected to use his initiative. I had become certain I might find the key to unlock the cases concerning Señorita Coates and Jiminez in England, but I had no proof this was so. It was in such circumstances I decided to travel. Since I was successful, I think I may claim I was right to accept that instinct and a feeling can sometimes be of more use than fact. Would you not agree?’
Again, there was no answer.
‘Naturally, I had to pay for the journey out of my own pocket. However, now that you will be able vigorously to refute any suggestion of incompetent slackness in your command, you surely will wish me to be recompensed and that can be done by making your authorisation retrospective . . . Shall I forward my expenses?’
Salas swore.
‘Thank you, Señor. Now as to the facts which prove Colin Short murdered Jiminez and what was his motive for the death of Señorita Coates . . .’
Fifteen minutes later, Alvarez returned to the dining-room.
‘You’ve been a lifetime!’ Dolores said, her voice shrill from worry. ‘Are they going to arrest you?’
‘Not this time.’
‘But that Madrileño was so angry.’
‘I persuaded Salas to calm down and understand it’s sensible not to accuse your neighbour of stealing your lamb if you have one of his; also, that there was no need for any hearing to go ahead. Considering everything, I think I’ve done rather well. I deserve a drink.’
She expressed her relief in typical fashion. ‘When a man drinks what he deserves, he has water.’
An Air of Murder Page 20
