‘I was thinking of something stronger.’
‘From the looks of you, that and women is all you do think about.’
‘Maybe I could join in.’
‘Why?’
‘Am I not subject to the same hunger, the same thirst, satisfied by the same measures as you?’
‘If you ask me, you’ve been on the bottle all morning. I wouldn’t give someone from the Cuerpo a crust of dry bread, but Rosalía can be soft.’
‘Thank heaven for soft women.’
The coffee was strong, the apricot coca, made that morning by Rosalía, as tasty as any Alvarez had previously enjoyed. They discussed the señor’s death and what it might mean to them and it was late morning before they decided it was time to move.
‘I need another word,’ Alvarez said to Julia as they stood.
‘What about?’
‘Nothing to cause you any worry . . . Mateo,’ he called out as Higuero stepped into the outside doorway and sharp sunshine.
‘What?’
‘I’ll talk to you again.’
‘Not if I can help it,’ was the muttered response.
At Alvarez’s suggestion, Julia and he went into the breakfast room. She sat, fingers locked together on her lap.
‘I only need to know one thing,’ Alvarez said quietly, his tone friendly. ‘When you went into the library and tragically found the señor dead, was the air conditioning on?’
She looked through the window, her fingers now tightly clenched, her expression strained.
‘Was it working?’
She finally nodded.
‘At what time of the morning did you switch it on?’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Have you any idea who did?’
‘Must have been the señor. We weren’t allowed to touch any of the units. He said only he was to do that.’
‘Do you know why?’
‘Some time ago he was out to lunch and not supposed to be coming back until the evening, so I turned the air conditioning off in some of the rooms to save electricity. He returned unexpectedly soon after lunch with a woman and created hell because the rooms weren’t very cool.’
In the circumstances, that surprised him. ‘So as far as you can tell, no one will know when the unit in the library was switched on on Thursday?’
‘No.’
‘Then that’s all I need to know. Thanks again for your help.’
She left.
He would report to Salas that despite a long and very thorough investigation, there was no way of being certain how long the air conditioning had been switched on in the library, but there was strong reason to accept it must have been from before Tyler was shot. So the time of death as given by Dr Font had to be as unreliable as he had warned.
He walked a couple of times up and down the library for the exercise, recognized he had to make some sort of a search for the keys before he reported to Salas that the safe could not be opened until a locksmith was called. He opened the desk drawers, checked through their contents, replaced these. He removed books near the one hiding the control of the moving section of shelving to determine if any of them had been hollowed out to provide a reasonably good hiding place; none had. To show keenness, he got down on hands and knees to look under the central gap in the desk and to his surprise saw two keys fixed to the underneath of the bridging top. Why hadn’t he noticed them when he’d previously looked under the desk and found the supermarket receipt? Could the keys have been visible in the photos that were taken of the receipt? If so, Salas might . . . He pushed the possibility to the back of his mind.
In the safe were several coloured files, portfolio valuations, statements from banks in England, Liechtenstein, and Llueso, accountants’ reports, a will, just over a thousand euros in notes, escrituras of land and house.
The will was very straightforward. All that Tyler owned at his death was to be donated to a named charity. An attempt to buy his way into heaven? So either no one had murdered him in order to benefit financially, or someone had been mistaken about the contents of the will. To decipher the full meaning of the pages of bank balances and investment portfolios was beyond Alvarez’s ability and he doubted anything would be gained from doing so. Nowhere had he uncovered what he had hoped to find – something to verify the accusation that Tyler had been driving the car which had killed the two young lovers.
He replaced the contents of the safe, locked that, returned the keys to their hiding place; if any of the staff had sought for and failed to find them in the past, they were unlikely to try again; in any case, Llusians, unlike Mestarians, were totally honest.
He returned to the kitchen where Rosalía was preparing lunch. He debated the amount of garlic there should be in a suquet de pescado con allioli and for the sake of peace agreed two whole cloves should be sufficient. He said goodbye, left, was approaching his car when there was a shout. Higuero crossed in front of several mimosa trees, came up to the car. ‘You said you wanted to talk, but I ain’t seen anything of you. I ain’t waiting around any longer.’
‘You have business elsewhere?’
‘Nothing to do with you what I have.’
‘Let’s go back into the house where it’s cool.’
Muttering his annoyance, Higuero followed Alvarez inside and into the breakfast room.
‘Take a seat,’ Alvarez said.
‘Don’t need you to tell me what to do.’ Higuero sat.
‘I asked you if you’d seen any husbands out for revenge lurking around the place and you said you hadn’t.’
‘You want to call me a liar?’
‘Men from Mestara are noted for their honesty.’
‘And when they go to Llueso, they stitch their pockets up. Why tell me what I told you?’
‘Just setting the scene.’
‘What scene?’
‘Thursday. The señor was shot and I have to find out who shot him. Considering his mode of life and love, an angry husband seems a likely suspect, so I’m asking if you’ve thought things over and remembered someone who’s been around and looked suspicious on any previous day.’
‘I told you, there was the car.’
‘You haven’t told me about a car.’
‘I bloody well did!’
‘Then tell me again.’
‘I was coming back to work and it come out of the drive like it was racing.’
‘What time was this?’
‘After lunch.’
‘So it was some time after four?’
‘Two.’
‘You’d eaten by two and were returning to work? Get any funnier and I’ll have you inside.’
‘The señor said I had to work in the afternoon from two to six.’
‘Why?’
‘Them was the hours he was used to in England.’
‘You didn’t tell him this was Mallorca?’
‘You don’t spit on your own plate.’
‘He paid so generously you did as he said, instead of telling him you would work as a Mallorquin did?’
‘Who are you to talk when you’re with the police and so always have to do what you’re told?’
‘What was the time this car drove out on to the road?’
‘Didn’t I say I was getting back to work at two?’
‘So what do we suggest? Half past two?’
‘When the señor was likely watching to see I was dead on time?’
‘He kept a sharp watch on you?’
‘Suspicious bastard.’
‘No doubt because he was used to the ways of workers in England. So you could only be a little late. Twenty minutes?’
‘It weren’t nearly that much.’
‘Give me a figure I can believe.’
‘Maybe ten past.’
‘What made you notice the car?’
‘Because he came out so fast, like I said. If I hadn’t swerved violently and fallen off my moped, he’d have had me.’
‘It was a man driving?’
‘Ju
st said.’
‘Did you recognize him?’
‘When I only seen the back of his head?’
‘Was anyone else in the car?’
‘Didn’t see no one.’
‘Did you take the number?’
‘Tried to, so as I could denounce the sod.’
‘But failed?’
‘You think you can see much when you’ve just missed being slaughtered by a car?’
‘You were suffering from shattered nerves?’
‘Weren’t like that,’ Higuero replied angrily, not prepared to admit that a man from Mestara could be so craven. ‘It was well away when I got myself back on me feet. All I could read was the numbers, not the letters. Eight-five-three-three.’
‘You’re certain?’
‘I’ve said what I remember.’
‘Did the letters come before the numbers?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you suggest what any of the letters might have been, even if you’re not certain what they were?’
‘No.’
‘What kind of car was it?’
‘Estate.’
‘Make?’
‘Astra, most likely.’
‘Colour?’
‘Black.’
‘Any signs of damage, any stickers in the back window?’
‘Nothing.’
‘If you think you see it again, take the number and let me know.’
‘You finished?’
‘For the moment.’
Higuero stood. ‘Any more questions and you can answer them yourself.’ He left.
Alvarez considered what he had heard. The car had left the grounds of Es Teneres soon after two o’clock. It had been driven recklessly. Because the driver had just shot Tyler and was panicking? That would put the time a little outside the estimated time of death, yet Font had admitted this was even less reliable than usual because of the coldness of the room and now it was known the room must have been cold at least from the time of death. If luck was on his side, all that remained to be done was to identify the car and its owner. How false were his dismal forebodings with which he had started the investigation.
NINE
‘Identify a car from what you’ve just told me?’ said the man in Vehicles over the phone, speaking as if asked to perform a couple of miracles before lunch.
‘Is it going to be difficult?’ Alvarez managed to sound concerned.
‘Won’t take more than the rest of the week to find out it’s impossible.’
‘Aren’t the computers working properly?’
‘You think all we have to do is tap a couple of keys and out come all the answers?’
‘I don’t know very much about them.’
‘Nothing, from the sound of it.’
‘I’ll have to report it’s too difficult to follow up?’
‘I’ll see what can be done. But don’t expect any answers in a hurry.’
Alvarez replaced the receiver, settled back in the chair. He felt sorry for the cuckolded husband who had shot Tyler. If there were honest justice, he would be held to have been justified, but laws were promulgated by men and therefore could never be just. He looked at his watch and regretfully decided it was still a little early to leave the office and return home for a drink and lunch. Merienda at Es Teneres had not included a coñac. Presumably, Rosalía disliked alcohol as well as men.
The phone rang.
‘The superior chief,’ Salas’s secretary said, in her plum-laden voice, ‘will speak to you.’
As he waited, receiver to ear, Alvarez wondered if she had ever been courted? If so, probably by a masochist.
‘Are you there?’ Salas demanded.
‘Yes, señor.’
‘Why have you not reported?’
‘I am waiting to hear from Vehicles before I do so.’
‘Why?’
‘I can’t get the information from any other source.’
‘What is the information you require?’
‘The name of the owner of the car.’
‘What car, why is this important, and to what case does it refer?’
‘The murder of Señor Tyler, señor. I have questioned the staff. Julia told me that no one was allowed to alter the air conditioning in any of the rooms—’
‘Do you ever answer a question?’
‘When I know the answer.’
‘Which is seldom. I asked what car are you referring to.’
‘The one which made Higuero fall off his mobylette. He says it was travelling so very quickly – as if it was racing, was his description – but I think one needs to remember that when one suffers a near miss that might have proved fatal, one is liable to exaggerate.’
‘Where was he at the time?’
‘Returning to Es Teneres after lunch. It was unusually early because Tyler demanded he worked to English times. Somewhat ridiculous, since this is not England—’
‘I do not require you to remark on the obvious or to confuse by delivering an incorrect commentary on national habits. Why is the car of consequence?’
‘Higuero was turning in to the drive when it came out at such speed and so carelessly that the driver was surely under drink or very confusing emotion. The time is important since the staff was not permitted to alter the air-conditioning settings . . . But I have mentioned that.’
‘There are occasions when you speak in so confused a manner, I am at a loss to know if you have told me anything. One moment you were waiting to hear from Vehicles before you made your report, the next, a man was nearly run down and that is important, but your only explanation of why this should be is that the air conditioning couldn’t be altered. You will start again, after you have arranged the facts in as logical a sequence as you are capable of doing. You will refrain from any observations which are immaterial. You will not offer any conclusions you have reached since these can only cause still further confusion.’
Alvarez carefully made a restructured report.
‘It is unfortunate that one has to wait to learn about the driver of the car,’ Salas said.
‘It seems it’s not as easy as one thinks to get a computer to work—’
‘I was referring to the fact that I have only just heard about the car which drove out of Es Teneres’s forecourt at a time which must cast suspicion on the driver.’
‘Higuero didn’t mention the car until this morning.’
‘Because you had not questioned him about it.’
‘How could I, until I knew about it?’
‘My friend, the noted psychologist, may well express a wish to examine you. Not only would I be interested in his findings, he may use the details of your extraordinarily confused mind to propose a new syndrome which would bear his name. The would be an honour. Moreover, he would be able to enjoy the pleasure of appreciating that in a hundred years, his name will not be forgotten.’
‘But what about my name?’
‘Hopefully, that will soon be forgotten.’
‘Isn’t it likely to be quoted, so that people might well think I was mentally unstable?’
‘The possibility is there, together with the reality. You will inform me the moment you hear from Vehicles.’
Alvarez replaced the receiver, leaned over and opened the bottom right-hand drawer of his desk, brought out a bottle of Fundador and a glass.
Vehicles phoned at a quarter past five. The speaker first expressed his opinion of inspectors who demanded miracles.
‘I also have to work very hard,’ Alvarez said.
‘That’s meant to be a laugh? I’ve a mate who says you haven’t done any work since you joined the Cuerpo . . . There are a considerable number of black Astras with those last four figures so you’re going to have to identify the one which interests you.’ That was spoken with satisfaction.
These days, it seemed everyone tried to shift their work on to other shoulders. ‘If you could sort out the addresses into areas . . .’
‘I could, but I’m not going to.’
>
‘Superior Chief Salas has always said that for overall efficiency, all departments should work together—’
‘Salas talks crap. I’m faxing the list through in five minutes.’
The list was not as long as Alvarez had feared, but was not nearly as short as he had hoped. It took him until seven to sort the owners into geographical areas. Gloom returned. It could not be assumed that the car belonged to anyone in his area, so he might have to extend the search. Unless he informed other inspectors that on the orders of Salas, they were to carry out inquiries in their areas.
On his way home, he stopped at the godown in Carrer Labarcena, well known for the quality of the fruit and vegetables it sold and, more importantly, its wide range of wines. He bought a couple of bottles of Isola, returned to his car and was about to drive away when he remembered Jaime and he had emptied the bottle of brandy after their previous meal. He returned to the store for a bottle of Soberano.
Alvarez studied the list of six local addresses. Two in the port; one a car hire firm; one midway between there and the village. One in the village, one in the mountains close to Laraix. Dolores had an acquaintance in Laraix whom he would be expected to visit, not because of friendship, but because she was a recent widow, owned an old house which had been renovated, and her husband was reputed to have left her a great deal of money having been the kind of entrepreneur whom Mallorquins respected – so tight-fisted, it was said his nails had grown into the palms of his hands. Susana believed alcohol to be the bait of the devil. He would not mention a trip to Laraix to Dolores. Of the two addresses in the port, one was near Los Dos Pescadors, an old-style bar and restaurant set back from the front, which welcomed locals by charging them less than the tourists.
He walked into the offices of Torrandell Rent-A-Car. It was a modern building and the three staff, one man and two young women, were equally modern and so seemingly uninterested in customers.
He banged the glass-topped counter on which were brochures detailing the first-class service the company offered. After he had studied Alvarez and with no difficulty identified him as Mallorquin, the tall, thin man with blond hair in a ponytail said in Spanish: ‘Break that and you’ll pay for it.’ He switched to English. ‘You half-witted goat.’
‘A half-witted goat has some manners, unlike you,’ Alvarez replied in English.
Sun, Sea and Murder Page 8
