Domingo Armada series Omnibus

by Jefferson Bonar

  “I remember everything! Everything!” Madalena collapsed into a coughing fit again, but refused the water Armada offered.

  “Please, don’t strain yourself. I can come back,” Armada said, but Madalena kept on talking. She was not about to stop now.

  “I saw it happen. The whole thing. Ortega, and Amparo’s father. They came in the night. My mother had just put me down. I hadn’t yet gone to sleep. I heard them force their way in. I heard my mother’s screams. I heard the accusations. I heard everything. They tried to get her to leave, but she wouldn’t. She said this was her home. Then there was a crash and I peeked out of my bedroom. That’s when I saw Federico hit her with the axe. One blow, that’s all it took. And my world was shattered. And Ortega, he just stood there, worrying about how they were going to bury her.”

  Tears streamed down Madalena’s face. “That’s when they saw me. Four years old, shivering in my little nightdress. Ortega said not to worry, my mother was just having a sleep. But I knew what blood was. I knew something was wrong. I think I knew, even back then, that she was dead. And the next thing I knew I was being shipped off to live with strangers in Malaga. Ortega tried to say it was an accident. Told the people in town I would have a nice life with some distant relatives he had in Malaga who couldn’t have a baby of their own. So everyone thought I’d be taken care of and forgot about me.”

  Madalena coughed again and winced in pain. Armada could see Esmerelda busy in the back. He had a little more time. And Armada could see Madalena needed this catharsis. She was unburdening herself in a way that she hadn’t done in her whole life. This was why she had come across as so cold and ruthless: to protect the scared, confused four-year-old girl underneath, the one who was still struggling after all these years to make sense of the horrors she’d witnessed.

  Armada debated with himself whether to ask the question that had been simmering in the back of his mind. He knew he should leave and let Madalena rest. Continuing to delve into the past now could possibly make her worse. But he had to know.

  “So why marry Amparo? Especially knowing what his father had done?”

  Madalena smiled at Armada in a way she hadn’t done before, as if he should have already figured out her sordid little tale.

  “It was the only way I saw to get revenge. If I married him, I had a legitimate reason to return to Salobreña. I wouldn’t have to reveal who I was. Then I could start figuring out how to make Ortega pay for what he did. Who else except Amparo could relate to that? He felt guilty for what his father had done. I think it ruined him in many ways. So it wasn’t hard to convince him to help me.”

  “And that’s why you left everything you had in Malaga.”

  “The people raising me were kind, but they had no idea what had happened. They couldn’t understand why, when I got older, that I became so angry, so bitter. I had no friends. People said I was possessed by the devil as I was never nice to anyone I met. How could I tell them what had happened to me? I felt ashamed. They would never understand. That’s why I had to do something to make all this right.”

  Armada couldn’t help but pity Madalena. Ortega’s greed had destroyed any hope she’d had of having a normal life. And to have it taken away so young was such a tragedy.

  “I see,” Armada said.

  “I knew we had to find my mother’s body first. Once we had that, we could blackmail Ortega until he was bled dry. It took years. And all that time we had to pretend to be a happily married couple, as normal as anybody. There were times we wanted to kill each other. But that night they finally found my mother, it made it all worth it. I knew we had Ortega by the throat then.”

  “So what went wrong?”

  Madalena seemed to be out of breath, but then regained her composure. “I don’t know. Amparo made contact with Ortega, told him what we had and how much it would cost to stay quiet, then he re-buried the bones somewhere where Ortega couldn’t find them. Jose wasn’t happy about it, but it was always part of the plan. The money started coming in, and everything was fine until Amparo was killed.”

  “And he hadn’t told you where he re-buried the bones, had he? Hence your reluctant to leave town after he was killed.”

  “It wasn’t over. I couldn’t leave until it was over.”

  Madalena wiped away the tears on her cheek with her hand, trying to maintain a stern expression. Obviously, she felt none of this was worth crying over now. She wanted to show strength, that she was tough enough to overcome any adversity.

  Armada needed a moment to take it all in. He got up, and paced about the room, trying to fill in all the missing links.

  But there was something that still puzzled him.

  “Did Enrique know any of this? Did he know who you were? Or what Amparo was up to?”

  “I rarely spoke to the man. Or ever saw him, really. He was just someone Amparo worked with. I don’t think Amparo told him anything.”

  “Did he ever have a dispute with Amparo? Did you ever see them argue?”

  “No. There was one time when Amparo let Enrique stay here because he had wasps in his wagon. He only slept in our house a night or two, and then he was gone. We barely noticed him while he was here.”

  “Were there any rumours going around about his behaviour? Anything odd?”

  “I’m sorry, Constable. Enrique just wasn’t a part of our lives.”

  “That’s what’s so odd,” Armada said. “He isn’t a part of anyone’s lives, nor a part of this story. So why…”

  Armada saw that Madalena had sat down again, looking fatigued. She would fall asleep soon.

  Esmerelda came into the room. “I think it’s time you left her alone, Constable. She needs her rest.”

  Armada sighed. “Yes, thank you, Señora Rodriguez. For everything. I’m sorry this all had to end up…well…”

  Armada realised his words would be of little comfort to Madalena now, after everything she’d been through. It seemed insulting to continue.

  “I hope you feel better soon,” was all Armada could say, as he moved toward the door.

  “Armada…” Madalena said, slurring her words as she began to drift off into sleep. “The blacksmiths…Amparo said he saw Enrique up there sometimes…loved horseshoes, maybe? Don’t know…Amparo said…”

  With that, Madalena had fallen asleep, and Armada left the cortijo smiling. Horseshoes, indeed! He bounded up the hill two steps at a time, feeling like he was finally getting close to the answer.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Lucas wasn’t having much luck. He sat aside from the little pool, watching as groups of wives came and went, scrubbing their washing in the water while they chatted on about the case and the silly rumours that now swirled around it. By now, Lucas had heard them all: Enrique was an angel here to punish sinners; he was secretly working for the Inquisition; he was a hidden part of this family or that, depending on whose family was being vilified; and, lastly, that Enrique was the devil himself.

  Two hours after arriving at the lavadero, Lucas was feeling like he was wasting his time. He showed the dress to everyone who arrived and no one recognised it. It was as if the dress had appeared out of thin air.

  It was getting toward afternoon when Lucas finally left. Siesta time had begun and the lavadero was emptying out as the wives were leaving the last of their washing for early evening, when the heat would again subside. Lucas felt the hot sun on his skin and saw it starting to turn red, a sure sign that it was time to head for shade. He hated to disappoint Armada. He knew how much the old man wanted this and how much he’d sacrificed for this case.

  Lucas rolled up the dress under his arm and headed back toward the room at the inn. From the road, he could see Armada had already returned and was sitting solemnly at the window, gazing out into the clear blue sky. The smoke from the delta had mostly cleared and all of Salobreña now seemed especially clean and vibrant. Gone was the grey and black haze that coated everything, that gave the air a burning wood smell, and that burned his eyes as he walked.
Now, he could see things much more clearly. The white plaster of the houses and walls seemed to gleam, the flowers hanging from pots and trellises shining brightly with vivid reds, yellows, oranges and purples.

  Inside, Lucas expected the worst. Armada would probably already be in a bad mood from not having found anything, and Lucas would only make it worse.

  He stepped inside the room and the first thing he noticed was the sherry barrel set up in the corner. It was fresh, just purchased from the tavern. That was a surprise. He looked over at Armada, who bounded up to his feet, holding a freshly-poured glass.

  “Ah, Lucas,” Armada said cheerily. “There you are. How did you get on at the lavadero?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. No one recognised the dress.”

  “Yes, I suspected so,” Armada said, taking another sip of sherry. Armada seemed in a chipper mood, despite their setbacks. Lucas couldn’t tell if it was only because of the alcohol. It didn’t matter. He was happy to see that the old man had sprung back to life.

  “How did you get on, sir?”

  “We can speak along the way, Lucas. Come along. I need to show that dress to one more person before we give up on this.”

  Lucas was suddenly racing to keep up with Armada, who was crossing into Albaycín with large strides.

  “Did you find something, sir?”

  “I most certainly did. It seems Enrique Talavera enjoyed going to the blacksmiths on the Medina quite a lot while he was alive. And it wasn’t for horseshoes, I can tell you that.”

  “No?”

  “I think he was much more interested in the gambling den. It seems he was a frequent visitor there, which explains why he’d never been able to afford a house of his own. Apparently, the day after Amparo’s murder he went there with quite a lot of money and spent hours gambling it all away. A hundred reales, possibly more.”

  “A hundred reales?” Lucas asked. He’d never seen that much money in his life. “How did Enrique get that much?”

  “A very good question, Lucas. Very good indeed! It is what I’ve been pondering all afternoon. And yet the answer was staring me in the face this whole time.”

  Armada paused a moment, giving Lucas a moment to figure it out for himself. Lucas never did. He failed this test every time and wondered why the old man kept testing him like this.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Think, Lucas! What is the one thing Enrique could have done that someone would want to pay him for?”

  “He was paid to kill Amparo?”

  “And Madalena too, I suspect,” Armada said. “Suddenly this all makes sense! He was the perfect killer because he had no motivation to do the killings. It was why I couldn’t see it!”

  Lucas stumbled along, trying to keep up with Armada as they walked along.

  “Now, assuming Enrique was paid the same for both killings, that means it couldn’t have been someone poor. No, this would be someone with means who had the money to pay him. And someone with enough authority to make sure he would keep his mouth shut about what he’d done. Which he did quite effectively, I might add. But it leads us to the real question—who would be motivated to hire Enrique to do such dastardly things? Who is rich enough?”

  Another pause. This time Lucas’ mind jumped to the conclusion quick enough to answer. “Ortega, sir. You’re saying Pablo Ortega hired Enrique?”

  Armada shook his head. “I was tempted to think that too. But it doesn’t make sense. For Cristina Lopez, he went there himself. It was intended to be a spectacle. He was there to put on a show as much as get rid of Cristina Lopez. Nothing about it was hidden or discreet. And yet this one was done very differently. Disguises, and hiring of an assassin, all actions taken by someone who wishes to remain in the shadows. Not Pablo Ortega’s style. No, I have another idea of whom it might be…”

  Lucas was now confused. It seemed so obvious.

  “Who, sir?”

  “We’ve been trying so hard to see a connection with Ortega where there isn’t one. Our real culprit has been standing so close to use, we couldn’t see them! Who is someone who is rich and just as motivated as Pablo Ortega? But who isn’t Pablo Ortega?”

  Armada left the answer open as they reached a road where many of the town councillors had their homes.

  “I don’t understand, sir.”

  “You soon will, Lucas. I promise you. But first, I need to prove that I am right. I don’t want to do anything unless I am certain. And to do that, I need you to ask a question of any of the wives on the street who are available.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Armada took the dress and looked it over, holding it in his hand and smiling.

  “Then let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Everywhere was fire and smoke. As if the whole of the forest were burning around him. There was death everywhere he looked. Bodies of natives having been left where they’d fallen, filling the air with the smell of putrid flesh.

  Everywhere screaming.

  Fear.

  And Death.

  Armada opened his eyes, focusing on the fresh sea air that was now filling his lungs as he walked. He was by the bell tower now, entering into El Brocal on his way to the Albaycín neighbourhood, hopefully for what would be the last time. The memory dissipated on its own. It had come with warning, as Armada strode through El Brocal on his way to Albaycín. His hand had begun to tremble and Armada simply let the memory wash over him, like a wave washing over a beach. And like a wave, it washed back out again. Its power to overwhelm him had diminished somehow. He wondered if perhaps fighting it had been the wrong tactic. Perhaps he should let the past intrude upon the present sometimes, to release the tension. The horrors of it were still crippling, and they would always be, but it also brought him some degree of perspective on his past.

  He had Lucas to thank for that. Armada found himself admiring the boy. Somehow, Lucas had something to teach him after all. Armada wondered how Lucas would have handled being in the Spanish army, deep in the Andes mountains and depending on his own men so heavily for survival, during those fateful years. Would he have thought to question the orders he was given the way he did so casually with Armada? Lucas seemed to have an inner sense of morality that Armada had not possessed back then. Armada’s morality was something he had built himself over many years of confusion. The man he’d started out being was so different than who he was now. And yet in Lucas, his moral centre seemed perfectly formed almost from the start, despite the horrors he’d witnessed over his parents.

  “Are you ready for this, Lucas?” Armada asked, glancing at the boy who was half a step behind him.

  “Yes, sir,” Lucas said with a smile. “Thanks for letting me come.”

  Armada still wasn’t sure he should have, but the boy had assured him he was ready. And after everything that had happened, Armada felt he owed it to Lucas. The boy had been through so much for this case. He deserved to be here for this.

  Armada and Lucas crossed through Albaycín on their way to a door he had come to know well. He stood outside and announced his arrival through it, ready to barge his way in if needed.

  It wasn’t necessary, however, as the finely cut oak door swung open to a very irate-looking Pablo Ortega.

  “Armada…what are you doing here? What is this?” Ortega asked, glancing behind Armada. The sun had gone down, leaving behind only an orange glow in the sky, which was just enough to light up several of the men who had come here along with Armada. Lucas was a few steps behind, as well as some of the men who had helped out with the search for Enrique.

  “I’ve come to make an arrest,” Armada said, stepping into the house.

  “You have no right to arrest me. I’m alcalde! And I’m innocent! If you don’t leave…”

  “I didn’t say I was here to arrest you, alcalde,” Armada said. He pushed his way past Pablo and went into the house. Toward the back of the front room, sitting in a chair by the fire that was blazing away in the fireplace, was
Ines Ortega. Clad in a dressing gown, she now pulled it tight around herself, despite the many layers of clothing she wore underneath. She stood, dropping the book she’d been reading by the firelight, and glared at Armada.

  “Can I help you, Constable?”

  “I’ve come to return something to you,” Armada said calmly, and threw the blue and grey dress he’d brought on to the chair where Ines had been sitting.

  Ines stared at it, saying nothing.

  “It’s yours, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t think so, no,” Ines said calmly.

  “Are you sure? Because you’ve been seen on several occasions wearing it to social functions with the wives of the other councilmembers. We asked around town on our way here. It’s quite a unique dress, and therefore well-remembered. It’s expensive, the kind you only wear to the most important of dinner parties, which explains why none of the other women in town have seen it. And also why it made such a perfect disguise when you gave it, along with a blond wig, to Enrique Talavera.”

  “I’m afraid you have it all wrong. Pablo?”

  Armada glanced at Ortega, standing quietly by the front door. Many husbands would have thrown themselves at Armada to defend their wives, or at least taken the blame for what they did. But to no one’s surprise, Ortega said nothing. If his wife was going down for murder, he showed he would do nothing to get in the way. As long as he wasn’t going down with her.

  “You must have hated how they were blackmailing your husband,” Armada continued as Ines’ expression began to sour. “Watching your wealth drain away like that. And Pablo didn’t seem to know what to do,” Armada said. “So you took it upon yourself to deal with the problem. Otherwise, you would end up penniless, wouldn’t you? A hidalgo, with titles and status, but no wealth to speak of.”

  Armada picked up the dress again and held it toward Ines.

  “So you hired Enrique Talavera to kill Amparo Rodriguez. Somehow, you knew what he was, what he was capable of. And just in case he was seen doing your dirty work, you gave him this dress and wig to wear. No one would believe it was you. You were in Motril that day, as you always were on that day. So people would naturally think it was Madalena. The Brotherhood would come and hang her, and your problems with money would be over.”