‘That’s a filthy suggestion.’
‘Then you would call Rosalía and Carolina liars?’
‘Who are they?’
‘The cook and daily at Vista Bonita who notice the course of life there. Señora, did you have an affair with Señor Picare?’
‘No.’
‘You deny the possibility, aware of what that must mean to you if you are proved to have been lying?’
She stared at a wall, angry, undecided, then finally said with bitter anger, ‘What if I did? Does that disturb your little suburban mind? Living with two men is shameful; as I’m sure you know by now, Turner isn’t really my brother. And I suppose you think taking on a part-time third man is the work of a she-devil?’
‘I should prefer to say, surprising.’
‘You are not married?’
‘That is so.’
‘Then you’ve yet to learn that anyone in a closed relationship sooner or later learns life becomes stilted, boring; the excitement of pursuit or submission is replaced by the dullness of routine. Neil banished that dullness.’
Failing to appreciate the naivety of his words before he had spoken them, he said, ‘But you were already living with two men.’
‘And boredom is merely delayed, anticipation dimmed. Neil offered the revived pleasure of being pursued, the indulgence of delaying submission. Of course, in the end, even Neil became predictable. As has been said, pleasure cannot override repetition.’
‘That may be true, señora, but few of us have the chance of learning whether it is true. Thank you for your help.’
‘I cannot do anything more?’
‘I think not.’
‘You lead so peaceful and pleasurable a life?’
‘I live very quietly with my cousin and her husband.’
‘You share her?’
The thought of the nature of what Dolores’s answer to that question would be, caused him to say loudly, ‘Good God, no!’
‘Bourgeois reticence?’
He sought an answer which would not make her laugh. ‘If her husband learned what was going on, I would become homeless.’
‘The next time they go on holiday, call on me to shed the dullness of your life.’
SIXTEEN
‘I was propositioned again today,’ Alvarez said.
Jaime lowered his glass. ‘Was she tight or destitute?’
There was a call from Dolores in the kitchen. ‘Who’s destitute?’
‘She’d hear a cicada shrill a kilometre away,’ Jaime muttered.
‘Was she someone we know?’ she asked.
‘Not unless …’ Jaime fortunately realised for once that what he was about to say was highly inadvisable.
Dolores looked through the bead curtain. ‘Was it?’
Alvarez hurried to prevent Jaime’s replying. ‘You’ve noticed the woman who begs near the Sa Nostra branch this side of the village?’
‘I’ve never seen any beggar there and who would be so foolish as to beg near a bank where nothing is given away? Haven’t the police tried to move her?’
‘She has to be somewhere. She was married to a man who took off with another woman and all their money; she has to wear cast-off clothing and is desperately trying to find enough to rent an unreformed caseta before she’s thrown out of where she is. I always give her something.’
‘Why hasn’t the husband been made to give her money?’
‘She doesn’t know where he’s ended up. The woman was from Menorca, so maybe that’s where the husband is now.’
‘Then tell the policia in Menorca to find him.’
‘They’ll refuse since he’s not committed any crime.’
‘Being a man, you do not think it a crime to throw your wife away?’
‘It’s a civil, not a criminal, offence.’
‘If the Minister of Justice was a woman, it would be a very serious crime. The Good Lord made a mistake when he introduced Adam.’
‘If he hadn’t, there would have been no Eve, no you, Jaime and me.’
‘You have drunk so well, it was stupid of me to decide to cook one of your favourite dishes.’
‘What is it?’
‘Granda de Patates.’ She withdrew.
‘You like potato pudding?’ Jaime asked with surprise.
‘As much as a mash of chickpeas.’
‘Then why’s she think you do?’
‘She doesn’t.’
‘She’s right. You spent the morning in a bar.’
‘She’s probably cooking something we like, but said what she did because she wants me to understand I annoyed her.’
‘You didn’t say anything sharp.’
‘Women seem to be able to guess when a man’s lying.’
‘You don’t give that poor woman anything when you see her?’
‘There is no poor woman whose husband has gone to Menorca. I made her up to explain why you mentioned a woman who was so hard up.’
‘Why?’
‘To provide a safety net. What if she also heard me tell you I had been propositioned?’
‘She’d guess you’d struck lucky.’
‘And if sometime in the future I turn up late for a meal, what’s going to be her first thought? I’d taken advantage of what I’d been offered.’
‘It was all a lie?’ Jaime absentmindedly drank, emptied the glass, refilled it with Campo Neuvo. ‘You made me believe all you said. So now I’m beginning to think you made up being propositioned just to annoy me.’
‘You want me to ask in a loud voice what’s annoyed you?’
‘You can be a sod,’ was Jaime’s response.
‘Is the superior chief there? Alvarez asked.
‘Why should he not be here?’ Ángela Torres replied.
‘It is Sunday, señorita,’ Alvarez replied.
‘Were it my place to comment, I should remark that our work does not cease at a weekend even if there are those who believe it does.’
He leaned back in the chair, lifted his feet up on to the desk. The stress of overwork was one of the prime causes of strokes and heart troubles.
Salas spoke. ‘What is it?’
‘I have questioned—’
‘You are who?’
The unanswerable question: whether or not to announce his identity to Salas when certain the impeccably efficient Ángela would have done so. It was a gamble which he constantly lost.
‘Your silence names you Inspector Alvarez.’
‘Señor, can silence name—’
‘Make your report.’
‘Following the unexplained death of Señor Picare, I have questioned Señora Dunkling and Señor Turner. The latter has provided the name and address of Frank Macrone who lives in—’
‘Would it trouble you to inform me why he is presumably of some relevance to the case?’
‘I have previously explained that, señor.’
‘And that prevents your doing so now in order to bring him into focus?’
Every time a loser. ‘Señor Turner is a friend of Señor Dunkling and he is of the opinion that Frank Macrone disliked Señor Picare because there was reason to believe Picare had been over-friendly with his wife.’
‘Your task is to eliminate suspects, not enlarge their number. And do not strain your imagination by trying to explain why you have not yet questioned him.’
‘I spoke to Señora Dunkling and learned that even though she is a happy member of the ménage à trois—’
‘To use the word “happy” in such context is to deny the meaning of the word.’
‘Although she had two partners, she also had an affair with Picare, which raises the question, would they have been angered by her unfaithfulness.’
‘You can consider such a term in the circumstances? Llueso has become a modern Sodom and Gomorrah.’
‘I wouldn’t say it was that bad.’
‘You recognise no limits?’
‘I suppose one could say the local English have become unusually imaginative.’
‘Frank Macrone’s wife—’
‘Her Christian name?’
‘As I have not yet had the chance to speak to her or her husband—’
‘Chance or energy?’
‘Señor, it has taken a great deal of time to uncover the facts in this case.’
‘You can now be certain Picare was murdered and name the murderer or prove beyond reasonable doubt that he drowned accidentally?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Then you do not know the facts of the case, only some which are connected with it.’
‘That’s rather a fine distinction.’
‘Which will escape you. As also, no doubt, has the fact that this is the fourteenth day of your investigation.’
‘I have been too busy to count the days.’
‘We may well disagree on the meaning of “busy”. Do you understand that the purpose of your investigation should be to prove whether or not death was accidental; failing certainty, to learn whether one or more persons had motive for killing Picare, to judge if such motive was sufficiently strong to raise the presumption that the person concerned was probably the murderer.’
‘Yes, señor.’
‘Had your investigation been successfully conducted, you would have quickly identified all persons who might possess such motive, questioned them, and now would present me with the name of the probable murderer or, lacking any such names, the probability that such lack raises the probability of suicide. Instead of which, you name another suspect whom you have not questioned.’
‘I wished to report to you, señor, before I spoke to Señora Macrone.’
‘An excuse which thunders with the ring of familiarity. You will question her today.’
‘It is Sunday.’
‘For you, that is reason for doing nothing?’
‘It is a day of rest for most people and they will be on the beach or spending time away from home. I am unlikely to be able to make any worthwhile progress until tomorrow.’
‘You will discover if your hopeful optimism is justified after you have visited her home and failed to find her there. In addition, you will determine whether Russell did lie or Marta was mistaken.’
‘As you wish, señor.’
‘As I order.’
The bungalow, a kilometre from Cala Roig, was the last of three around the base of land which rose to fifty metres in a cone shape. The garden was not large, but the ground was newly worked, many roses were in flower, the low surrounding hedge was newly clipped. It always puzzled Alvarez that there were people who would undertake work which could never be completed. The door was opened by a middle-aged man, dressed in T-shirt and over-long shorts.
‘Señor Macrone?’ Alvarez asked.
‘Yes?’
He introduced himself. ‘I’m sorry to trouble you on a Sunday, but it is necessary.’
There was a call. ‘Who is it Frank?’
‘Be with you in a minute, Lee. Inspector, please come on in.’
The hall/entrada was lightly furnished. On the small table and by the side of the telephone was a cut-glass bowl in which were several different coloured roses, artistically arranged; on the tiled floor was an oval carpet, elsewhere an evergreen pot plant with a bark-like stem and many curving fronds and a small bookcase filled with paperbacks.
The door to the room on the right opened and a woman, younger than her husband, dressed with a touch of flamboyancy, stepped out. She stared with curiosity at the visitor.
‘Inspector Alvarez, Leila,’ Macrone said.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘He thinks maybe you helped yourself to that pearl necklace you so admired at the jewellers.’
‘Do keep your schoolboy humour in check.’ She turned to face Alvarez. ‘Inspector, if Frank asks if the security van we sometimes see in the village outside a bank is worth attacking, don’t humour, just ignore him. Do come on in.’
The sitting room was furnished in minimal style. The lack of physical comfort, as well as of visual pleasure, was emphasised when Alvarez sat on a chair which seemed to be all bumps.
‘Señor, Señora,’ he said, ‘as you will probably know, I am concerned in trying to understand the unfortunate death of Señor Picare.’
His wife gave no indication she had listened. Macrone said, ‘Then you’re here now because you’ve been told he was after my wife?’
‘Frank!’ she said sharply.
‘You think he won’t have heard the latest gossip and is now wondering which version could be true, which malicious?’
‘Must you …?’
‘Well?’ Frank Macrone looked at his wife.
‘Nothing.’ She looked down at her feet, angry and flushed.
Alvarez brought to a stop what, he thought, might become a heated argument. ‘Señor, did you ever speak to Señor Picare about the nature of his behaviour towards your wife?’
‘I told him that if he went on pestering Leila, I would cut his pleasures short.’
‘Do you think he took your threat seriously?’
Macrone was about to answer when Leila interrupted him. ‘You need to understand what did happen, inspector, in case you wonder what’s been going on. We’d met Neil at a friend’s party and found it pleasant to be with him because he had a good sense of humour and both he and Frank had similar tastes when it came to music. Our friend had a machine playing all the time we were there and they both thought it wasn’t music but a row.
‘A month or two later, we had an invite from Neil a day before Frank heard his father was seriously ill which meant he had to return to England immediately. I was downbeat because I knew Frank was going to be very upset because he and his father had always got on well together and, mea culpa, I decided to go to Neil’s party hoping it would lighten life. When there, I made excuses for Frank’s absence and Neil was very sympathetic. The next day, he asked if I’d heard how my father-in-law was, invited me to a meal to take my mind off my troubles. I knew his reputation, but he had seemed genuinely sympathetic, so I accepted, ready to defend myself. I need not have bothered. He drove me back from the restaurant after a very good meal, saw me safely inside, left.
‘He turned up again a couple of days later. I told him Frank’s father was not responding to treatment, he suggested it would help me if I could take my mind off the troubles even for a short while and suggested a trip on his motor cruiser with a friend of his, a woman roughly of my age.
‘The next morning, I drove down to the port, parked, and found his motor cruiser. He helped me board, called to someone ashore to cast off. I asked where his friend was. He told me she’d had to call off at the last moment. I said then I was sorry, but I was going to do the same. He tried to persuade me by saying he had a very special packed lunch and there was a bottle of Krug in the refrigerator. I made it clear I’d prefer to return ashore. When I stepped off the gangplank onto the quayside, I met a friend and the way she looked and spoke made me certain she believed I’d returned from a trip with Neil, not just aborted one. As soon as I returned home, I rang Frank to say what had happened.’
‘Did you see Picare again?’
‘No. And the more I held him at two arms’ length, the more eager he became. He phoned, sent flowers, even wrote a letter to assure me he sought friendship, nothing more, and was distressed I should think otherwise.’
‘Did you keep his letter, señora?’
‘Tore it up. Why should I keep it?’
‘It would have shown you were telling the truth,’ Macrone pointed out.
She faced Alvarez. ‘You can’t accept my word? You’re wondering if he would not have continued pestering me unless he thought that before long it would be worth his while?’
‘Señora, having met and spoken to you, I do not need proof that you have spoken the truth.’ He asked Macrone, ‘Señor, do you have any doubts about what the señora has told me?’
> ‘Of course I bloody don’t. But it’s your job to disbelieve anything you’re told unless or until it can be proved to be the truth.’
‘To disbelieve only when there can be doubt and here there can be none. When your wife explained what had taken place, did you face Picare?’
‘I drove to his place and told him that if he ever approached her again, I’d make certain he didn’t trouble another woman.’
‘You threatened to kill him?’
‘To castrate him.’
Small wonder there had been a furious row.
SEVENTEEN
‘What day is it today?’ Salas asked.
Alvarez gazed down at his desk as he sought to find reason for the question.
‘It is Monday.’
‘Yes, señor’
‘My intention for asking is to remind you what day yesterday was.’
Alvarez wondered which of their minds was adrift. ‘Sunday, señor.’
‘That still holds no relevance for you?’
‘Not really.’ What the hell are you on about? he wanted to ask.
‘Did you interview Señor Macrone yesterday?’
‘Yes, as ordered.’
‘I have received no report regarding it. My secretary has earlier rung your office three times without having the opportunity to speak to you.’
‘I wasn’t here, señor …’
‘That is known as emphasising the obvious. Would you explain why you were not in your office and do so without introducing someone whom you had to meet because you thought he had important information for you, but it turned out he had none.’
‘I was just about to ring you when you rang me.’
‘To provide an explanation for your silence which now deserts your memory? Your report.’
‘Señora Macrone has spoken freely. Her husband had to return suddenly to England because of the illness of his father and as a result of this, she went on her own to one of Señor Picare’s parties. She would never be called beautiful because not all her features are in harmony, but as is so often the case, her imperfections tend to be more attractive than—’
‘At the best of times, your judgments are suspect; when they concern the female race, they become solely a judgment on yourself. You will ignore all matters that are not directly relevant to the case.’
In Search of Murder--An Inspector Alvarez Mallorcan Mystery Page 13
