Silenced in Spain

by D'arcy Kavanagh

  A few minutes later, Jules Tessier and Monique Chan showed up. Burke didn’t mind because he enjoyed the two young people’s company and had learned to appreciate their intelligence, determination and even courage.

  “Have you talked to the flics?” Burke asked Tessier.

  “I just finished. In fact, I was going in just as you and Suzanne were on your way here.”

  Burke checked his watch. “That was quick.”

  “They only asked me a couple of questions about Monsieur López and then they got me to sign some kind of affidavit.”

  The server showed up and Tessier and Chan ordered another carafe of sangria plus some tapas.

  “By the way, Suzanne, I just checked our social media postings about what happened,” Chan said, looking at her boss. “We’re getting a lot of traffic, far more than normal.”

  Godard nodded, clearly impressed, and Burke figured she’d be getting favourable reviews from her bosses.

  “Well, we’re not done yet,” Godard said. “Let’s check with the flics again tomorrow morning, by no later than 9, and post what we know then, even if it’s repetitive. You’ll handle that, Monique.”

  Chan, who didn’t look at all tired, nodded. “I expected you’d want that done and so I made arrangements to talk with Inspector Torres in the morning.”

  Burke could see Godard was impressed and was learning that Chan was not an average intern.

  “Jules, you can help Monique in whatever way she needs,” Godard said. “Beyond that, I want you to get some stats on viewership. I want to know if everything that’s happening with the Vuelta these last few days has bumped the ratings. I need that information by mid-morning.”

  Burke wondered how Tessier could get that data so quickly, but he saw Tessier didn’t seem unnerved by the request. If anything, Tessier looked confident and even eager for an additional task.

  The conversation stayed along the work theme with Godard identifying the challenges of the next three days.

  Burke didn’t care. He pretended to listen, but he was just drifting. Home in another day. He could hardly wait.

  And then it was time for Burke to leave. He stood, his bones heavy with exhaustion, and reached to shake hands with Godard.

  She hugged him in return. A first.

  “Take care, Paul,” she whispered in his ear.

  Monique Chan, however, shook his hand and so did Jules Tessier.

  “I’ll probably be seeing you again in three or four weeks,” Tessier said.

  “What for?”

  “That’s when the inquest into Monsieur López’s death will likely be, according to Inspector Torres.”

  Burke nodded and wondered once more about bringing Hélène for a brief holiday after the inquest, if she could spare the time away from her café. But, again, he rejected the idea. He doubted he’d be in the mood for fun when he was back in the area.

  He waved to his colleagues as he walked toward the police station. He was done with Figueres at least for a few weeks and he was fine with that.

  He was going up the stairs of the police station when he heard his name being called.

  Felipe Garrido dressed in plainclothes.

  “It’s time to go home, Seῇor Burke,” the flic said.

  “It is, it really is.”

  Five minutes later, Garrido turned onto the highway for Girona.

  “You can have a nice snooze on the way, Seῇor Burke,” Garrido said.

  But it was too late.

  Burke was already asleep.

  Chapter 52

  The next day, Burke took a taxi to the Girona airport, exhausted but excited to be going home. He just wanted to hold Hélène, walk Plato and breathe the tranquil air of his village.

  He checked in and then looked for a snack.

  “Paul, are you heading home?”

  He knew the voice. Bryan Watson.

  He turned and saw the English couple with their bags, looking like they’d barely slept. He shook hands with both.

  “After what happened in Figueres, Maggie and I agreed we’ve had enough of the Vuelta and this trip,” Bryan said.

  Burke nodded. “I completely understand. I love the Vuelta, but I’m happy to be going home.”

  “We should tell you, Paul, that we didn’t come to Spain only to watch the Vuelta,” Maggie said.

  Burke frowned.

  “As I told you, Bryan is an investment banker and we’ve been looking to make an investment or two of our own in Spain.”

  “In what?”

  Maggie smiled. “You like mysteries, I think. So, guess.”

  Burke didn’t want any games, just the information. But he played along, reviewing to himself what he knew about the Watsons.

  After a few seconds, he had an idea. “Does it have something to do with Chef Andres?”

  “So far, so good,” replied Bryan. “But why do you say that?”

  “I’ve seen you talking with him on a few occasions, but not exactly like you were one of his fans. The last couple of times, you seemed more intense.”

  “You’re very good, Paul,” Maggie said. “Keep going.”

  “That tells me I’m on the right track. So, I’ll guess you were working on some kind of investment opportunity with Chef Andres.”

  “Right again,” Maggie said. “And what kind of investment opportunity?”

  “The obvious guess is something involving a restaurant.”

  “Mystery solved. You’re right. We were talking to him about becoming a major shareholder in one of his restaurants.”

  “You said ‘were.’ You’re not thinking of working with him?”

  “Not now,” Bryan said, shaking his head. “We had some serious doubts about him a couple of days ago; in fact, we were ready to call it a day. Then he got himself arrested after Seῇor López’s suicide and that ended it entirely for us. He’s really not what he seems.”

  “So, what does he seem to you?”

  “A complex man driven by ego and greed. Several months ago, I made some overtures about investing in one of his restaurants. I talked to him a couple of times on the phone and he seemed intrigued by the idea of taking on a new investor. He put me onto his chief accountant and we discussed numbers.”

  “But there was something a little odd with what we were given, according to our financial expert, so we decided to come over and talk to Chef Andres ourselves,” Maggie said.

  “I’m missing something,” Burke said. “You’re traveling with a tourist group on a Vuelta junket. Why not just come over to Spain and meet with Chef Andres?”

  “An excellent question,” Bryan replied. “And one that puzzled us. We just wanted to meet the man, go into his numbers in greater detail and get a better idea of the value of the restaurant. I’m a cautious investor because you can make a fortune taking risks, but far more frequently you end up losing gobs of money when you invest without suitable information and in haste.”

  “But why the Vuelta and why a tour group?”

  “He told us he was tied up for several weeks with the Vuelta and that the best way to get some time with him was to follow the race and to do it with one of the special groups following the race. We hesitated for a day and then booked our trip. The worst case scenario, we’d not make any deal, but we’d see a great sporting event in beautiful regions of Spain.”

  “But Chef Andres was secretive right from the first time we met him,” Maggie said. “He talked to us, but never seemed to have enough time to go beyond the superficial.”

  “If anything, he seemed like a person under a great deal of stress,” Bryan added. “We complained about his lack of interest and he apologized although not with much sincerity. And then after the Tarragona stage, he did a turnaround, becoming far more aggressive and pushing us to buy a much greater portion of his restaurant for a sum that seemed unrelated to reality. And when we told him his price wasn’t going to work, he got even more aggressive, deman
ding we increase our investment or stop wasting his time.”

  “We weren’t looking into buying into a restaurant in Spain to become millionaires,” Maggie said. “We just wanted to add to our portfolio with something a little different. Besides, we both have a fondness for the international culinary scene.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “We did which only made him more upset.”

  “And that was it for us. In Girona, Maggie and I decided he was too erratic to go into business with,” Bryan said. “We started to tell him that at the Figueres event, but then Seῇor Lόpez killed himself and all hell broke loose. And then Chef Andres got himself arrested.”

  “That told us we’d made a wise decision to not join forces with him,” Maggie added.

  Burke nodded, wondering what had prompted Chef Andres to go from being uninterested in the Watsons’ offer to demanding they invest and fast.

  “Out of curiosity, have you talked to the police about Chef Andres?” Burke asked.

  “As a matter of fact, we have ‒ twice,” Bryan replied. “We told them largely what we just told you.”

  “Did they seem surprised?”

  “A little. Mostly, though, they seemed very interested,” Maggie said.

  Chapter 53

  One month later, Burke testified in a half-full Figueres courtroom about what he’d witnessed just before José Antonio López killed himself. It took barely 45 minutes for him to cover what the Spaniard had discussed during his impromptu tour of Dali’s moustache exhibit and what had happened shortly after. Burke had no difficulty remembering since he recalled the scenes almost on a daily basis and frequently when he slept.

  The lawyer asking the questions was gentle with Burke, almost like he didn’t want to cause any trauma for his witness. Burke was grateful. Since returning to Spain, he’d found his nerves were on edge.

  When he was done, Burke returned to one of the benches, sitting beside Jules Tessier who’d testified just before Burke at the inquest. Next up was a uniformed police officer who had rushed to the scene right after López had pulled the trigger.

  Burke looked around and thought half the people in the courtroom were journalists. López’s suicide was part of a news story that was still getting big play not just in Spain, but in France and other European countries as well, thanks to its links to the giant food-fraud scheme that had landed a famous chef in custody.

  Burke had kept tabs on the story from Nice, learning how the investigation kept expanding with more arrests every week. Chef Andres faced several charges, the most serious being conspiracy to commit murder, a charge that could earn him years in prison if convicted. Dozens of others from Spain had also been charged, and news reports described most of them as “contract workers.” A few were identified, but Burke didn’t recognize the names.

  A couple of the reports discussed the involvement of non-Spaniards and one story went as far as saying an American business executive had been interviewed in connection with the food-fraud ring and released by police. Burke wondered if it had been Tim Fritz, especially since Fritz had been so chummy with Chef Andres on several occasions.

  He also wondered if the American was still in Spain. Or maybe he’d gone home as soon as his interview with the police was over, eager to put an ocean between him and the investigation. Burke still had the feeling that Fritz was involved in the food fraud even if the police hadn’t charged him. There was just something about him that rankled Burke.

  As for Wendy Klassen, Burke hadn’t seen her name anywhere.

  “Want to go for lunch?” Tessier whispered to Burke as the uniformed officer discussed what he’d encountered when he’d first seen López.

  Burke nodded and they quietly left the courtroom without anyone seeming to care.

  They were barely outside the courtroom when Burke spotted Inspector Camila Torres walking toward him and Tessier. Behind Torres was her usual shadow, Detective Sgt. Mariana Martἱn.

  Burke stopped and waited to see what the two flics might be interested in. They stopped a pace from him and Tessier.

  “Your testimony went well,” Torres said in Spanish.

  Burke frowned. “I didn’t see you in there.”

  Torres jerked a thumb behind her. “We were watching from a special room with closed circuit TV.”

  Burke nodded. “Are either of you testifying?”

  “You’re always curious, aren’t you, Seῇor Burke?” Torres said with a sly smile.

  “You came to us, Inspector.”

  “That’s true, we did.”

  Torres looked at Tessier and apologized to him in French for leaving him out of the previous conversation.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Inspector,” Burke interjected. “Are either you or Sgt. Martἱn testifying? Or have you testified?”

  Torres shook her head. “We’re not. We just wanted to see what happened. You never know if it could prove interesting in our criminal cases involving Monsieur López.”

  “And how is your investigation going? I’ve read a few stories, but it seems there’s a lot more information not making it into the media.”

  “You’re perceptive as usual, Monsieur Burke. As for our investigation, it’s a joint venture involving different jurisdictions which makes it more complex.”

  “Are you going to be making any more arrests?” Tessier asked. “And if you are, when?”

  Burke looked at the younger man. Tessier had kept quiet around the police during previous meetings, but this was a different Tessier, a more confident, more assertive one.

  And Burke could see Torres was equally surprised by the young man’s questions.

  “I can’t answer you, Monsieur Tessier, but I will tell you there might be some surprises.”

  Burke could see Torres wouldn’t go further, not trusting any members of the media to keep secrets. Her comment about ‘some surprises’ was about as far as she’d test her luck.

  Then Burke saw another familiar face striding toward them.

  Mateo Ochoa.

  The Peῇíscola flic wasn’t in uniform but in a grey suit with a tieless white shirt. He looked completely comfortable in his new attire and Burke wondered why Ochoa was here. If he was on the list of witnesses at the inquest, Burke couldn’t figure what he could contribute.

  Torres waved a hand at Ochoa. “Monsieur Burke, I’d like to introduce you to our new boss – Detective Chief Inspector Ochoa.”

  Burke felt his mouth drop in response. The small-town officer was now a big deal in Girona? What had happened?

  Ochoa stuck out his hand and shook with Burke first and then Tessier.

  “To paraphrase the godfather in the movies, they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” he said. “Besides, my wife has relatives in Girona so it seemed like a good idea to accept the offer. And it’s not far from Peῇíscola and so we can travel there without much effort to visit family and friends.”

  Burke remained speechless, trying to work out why Girona’s police brass had gone after Ochoa.

  And then Burke remembered Ochoa’s background with the police in Madrid. Then there was Ochoa’s involvement in the food-fraud case and Burke recalled how the flic had several times contributed heavily to the investigation. When others had seemed uninterested, Ochoa had been eager to pursue the truth.

  Burke glanced at Torres, figuring she wouldn’t be happy about the fact Ochoa had jumped over her on the promotions list. However, her face didn’t indicate anything but professional courtesy and respect.

  “I can see you’re surprised by Chief Inspector Ochoa’s presence,” Torres said. She looked at her colleague. “Well, we’re lucky to have him. There was an opening and I recommended him. We couldn’t have done better.”

  Burke saw she was sincere with her comments. He also noticed Ochoa seemed slightly uncomfortable with her praise.

  “You look better than you did the last time I saw you, Monsieur Burke,” Ochoa said, sc
anning Burke from top to bottom.

  “I just needed time to recover and to think about other things.”

  “So, have you kept up on this whole food-fraud matter and what happened with Seῇor López?”

  Burke shrugged. “Not on a daily basis, but I’ve spent some time following what’s been going on.”

  “Anything in particular prove surprising or interesting? Any questions you want answers to?”

  Burke could see Ochoa was interviewing him, not just making idle conversation. He paused to consider if he’d give a truthful response because there had been one question that had bothered him since he’d left Spain.

  The silence went on for 10 seconds, and Burke could see the three flics were waiting for him to answer. When he glanced at Tessier, he noticed the same look of expectation on the young man’s face.

  “Well, to be honest, a few things have bugged me, but there’s been one question that’s really stayed with me,” Burke said.

  “Don’t keep us in suspense, Monsieur Burke,” Ochoa said.

  “Why would Seῇor López, whose wife was brutally run down and killed while riding her bicycle, give so much time, effort and money to promote a huge bike race?”

  Burke could see the four faces in front of him digesting his question. He decided he needed to add something.

  “You see, if my partner Hélène was killed in a hit-and-run while riding her bike, I doubt I’d ever be able to look at a bike again and not feel the pain of her loss. Could I immerse myself in promoting a huge bike race if I’d lost Hélène? Only if I died and was sent to hell.”

  “Monsieur Burke, let’s talk some more,” Ochoa said.

  Chapter 54

  After telling Tessier he was free to go elsewhere, Ochoa led Burke, Torres and Martín to a sterile, windowless room at the far end of the corridor. Ochoa motioned for Burke to take a chair on one side of the long table while he and the other two flics took spots facing Burke who felt like he’d gone through this routine far too many times and was starting to wish he was back on the French Riviera. Whatever they were going to discuss, Burke felt it wasn’t going to help his nerves. One of these days, he thought, he was going to be dealing with an ulcer.