Eva went upstairs, Amengual into the kitchen. Alvarez looked at a large, framed photograph of a group of men and women in traditional dress, laughing and enjoying themselves. A photograph taken relatively recently at a social meeting, nostalgically reflecting the old times when costumes were traditional. Forgotten in the laughs were the facts that then there was little money and happiness had to be in the soul, not the pocket.
Amengual returned, handed over a glass three-quarters filled. The wine was primitive. Parker points would have hovered around zero, the wine declared undrinkable, yet for Alvarez it was a welcome gift from the earth, sun, and rain. Eva returned, accompanied by Marta, sad, defeated, uneasy.
‘He wants to know something,’ Amengual said, as Marta sat. ‘Tell him.’
Alvarez greeted her and, since it was time for a lie, added, ‘You’re looking better.’
She murmured something.
‘Thank you for talking to me. I’ve only one or two things to bother you about.’
She remained silent.
‘I think you told me that Señor Picare and his wife seemed to get on quite well together?’
She nodded.
‘Yet like other married couples, they did sometimes bicker?’
She looked at her mother.
‘Tell the inspector, love. It doesn’t mean they were always having rows. You’ve told us, you heard ’em arguing.’
‘Just sometimes,’
Alvarez said, ‘You want to say very little, or even nothing, because you would feel you were breaking their trust in you. But the truth is as important to them as anyone else. When they bickered, did it seem to you they were becoming angry?’
‘No.’
‘You never thought an argument might turn into a destructive row?’
She shook her head.
‘The señor didn’t shout at the señora and call her unfortunate names? She did not respond equally violently? I know you wouldn’t understand their English, but one can usually judge from tone when someone’s really angry and starts swearing. Did you ever think that happened or even that relations became so strained, violence was likely?’
She shook her head.
‘Then I’ve nothing more to ask. Thank you for being very helpful.’
After Marta had returned upstairs and he had driven halfway to the post, he decided to change his destination to Vista Bonita in order to question Rosalía about the difference between her testimony and Marta’s. Salas might ask him if he had done so and condemn him if he had not.
Rosalía’s greeting was short and sharp. ‘Here again? Why?’
‘For the pleasure of seeing you.’
‘A reciprocal pleasure I am denied.’
‘Sorry to learn that. I think your dress is very attractive.’
‘Have some of the buttons become undone?’
‘I should like a word.’
‘A one-sided pleasure.’
‘How’s the señora?’
‘Fortunate, since she’s on her own.’
‘Is she better?’
‘A couple of days are sufficient to overcome the death of a husband?’
‘That depends.’
‘On how self-interested one is.’
‘On what I’ve been told. Look, it’s better if we can’t be overheard, so shall we go into the staff room?’
She hesitated, turned, walked across the entrada and into the small sitting room. He followed. Easy chairs were grouped in front of the large TV. She moved one well clear of the others, sat. ‘Hurry it up.’
‘What’s the rush?’
‘Something more important than talking to you.’
‘But surely not as much pleasure. What do you have to do?’
‘Cook a meal for the señora which is tasty enough to encourage her to eat.’
‘Sausages and mash?’
‘Chicken breasts with soft cheese, bacon and a light garlic sauce.’
‘Didn’t you tell me she hated garlic?’
‘If she asks, I tell her I’ve used onions.’
‘She doesn’t suspect?’
‘No.’
‘The dish sounds like it could be really tasty. I’d like to try it.’
‘Don’t bother to wait for the crumbs.’
‘What’s its name?’
‘There isn’t one. It’s my own recipe.’
‘You’ve plenty of tricks up your … sleeve.’
‘You’re like a ten year-old who’s just been told females are different.’
‘I’m twenty and still learning.’
‘And never will if you can’t understand you’ll never see forty again.’
‘I’ve several years to go before I reach that benchmark. Do you remember I asked you how the Picare’s marriage ran.’
‘Did you?’
‘I’ve been told they had arguments – what else is marriage – but these were always mild. The señor didn’t shout at the señora, never physically threatened her. That’s a different picture from the one you gave me.’
‘Have you been talking to Marta?’
‘Why ask?’
‘You seek the chance to meet a girl who’s still young enough to ignore the fact that your breath has lost the scent of lavender.’
‘I talked to her solely because I believed she could offer some valid information. I asked her about the state of the Picare’s marriage. She described how they sometimes argued but was quite definite that there were never any serious rows.’
‘Do I have to sort it out for you? She’s not stupid even if it seems she must be, considering what went on between her and the señor. She knows people will be laughing at her for ever thinking of marrying a man old enough to be her grandfather.’
‘It’s become fashionable.’
‘Among the smart set, but not on this island where women still know pride.’
‘If she’d worried about other people’s opinions, she’d have cut the relationship.’
‘And lose her chance of never again being a servant? But he died and so, being a loser, she faces contempt, not jealousy.’
‘I don’t understand what she could gain by lying about the relationship between the señor and señora.’
‘If it was accepted he had been behaving as if the marriage was as good as over, there would be a divorce, he would be free to marry Marta. People would be sorry for her because of what she so nearly had, but lost.’
‘Complicated.’
‘You need me to explain more simply? Tell me why else she should have lied to you.’
‘Or was it you who got the relationship wrong?’
‘As far as I’m concerned, it didn’t matter if they were all love and kisses or had flaming rows, just so long as I was paid on time.’
‘Perhaps you sometimes overheard them and got the wrong end of the stick.’
‘And no doubt you also wonder if the señor and I studied the Kama Sutra together and please can you find out how well. You can’t begin to afford the entrance fees.’
‘Experience is more valuable than money.’
‘Not when it’s unwelcome.’
He drove back to the office and throughout the journey bemoaned his inability to match her derogatory observations until after any comment from him had become valueless.
NINETEEN
Alvarez dialled Palma. Ángela said to wait. As the seconds turned into minutes, his mind wandered along paths more pleasant than those of work. He was suddenly brought back to reality.
‘Yes?’ Salas demanded.
‘Señor, I have spoken to—’
‘You are?’
It was a childish game for a superior chief to play, but seniority allowed seniors to play it.
‘Inspector Alvarez.’
‘Have I not previously, indeed several times, pointed out the advantage of knowing to whom one is speaking?’
‘But I told Señorita Torres who I was.’
‘Who you are.’
‘I have spoken to Marta and she told me Picare would arg
ue with his wife, but never angrily. Rosalía, however, said they quite often disagreed furiously and, at least on one occasion, so violently that Rosalía expected him to hit his wife.’
‘Did he?’
‘Rosalía could not say. As you will understand it is very necessary to know who’s accurately remembering what happened. I asked Rosalía if she could be wrong, Her reply was the question, why should she lie when she could gain nothing from doing so. She guessed I’d been speaking to Marta and remarked that Marta’s mind was still very confused and it was unwise to accept without question what she said. Further, Marta might knowingly want to escape the truth.’
‘Why?’
‘If she had reason to judge Picare was a man with a violent character as well as a womaniser, she would be viewed with greater contempt if she believed he would have offered her marriage and she would have accepted.’
‘Then her mind is less confused than you have been suggesting.’
‘Why do you think that, señor?’
‘It is not obvious that someone who can judge such possibilities is not mentally confused? And not long ago did you not assure me her evidence concerning Russell when by the pool was to be accepted?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Yet you now judge that the worth of her evidence is doubtful.’
‘I don’t think that’s quite how things are because—’
‘Was Rosalía over-friendly with Picare? In the immoral times in which we unfortunately live, it should have occurred to you that she might have encouraged him.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘He appears to have committed adultery and immorality with Jovian enthusiasm.’
‘Only when the señora was in England, not when she was here. Then, he had to watch his step. If she’d caught him at it, I guess she’d have given him hell for enjoying something she didn’t.’
‘A typical, unfortunate, immoral conjecture. Have you questioned Rosalía over her relationship with Picare?’
‘I have not thought that necessary.’
‘Why not?’
‘A woman does not wish to be questioned over such matters; especially when she holds him in contempt.’
‘You are unaware a puta always views her clients with contempt?’
‘I have not the experience to judge.’
‘You suggest I have?’
‘Certainly not in a practical sense, señor.’
‘You will question her.’
‘Again?’
‘You wish to contest my order?’
‘Certainly not, señor.’
‘You will speak to Señor Russell again.’
‘For any specific reason?’
‘You do not find it reasonable to ask him to repeat some of his evidence in order to find out if he has changed it? Further, I will presume, not wishing to strain your imagination, that you have not yet questioned Macrone or those who live near Vista Bonita.
‘Are you aware that despite the time which has elapsed, you are no nearer to identifying a motive for Picare’s death?’
‘That’s true, señor. But that provides an advance in the problem of solving the nature of his death. Lacking a motive, it was an accident.’
‘You are intent on turning a negative into a positive? A conclusion reached because it is desired and is very likely to be wrong.’
‘Señor Russell?’ said the receptionist at Hotel Tamit. ‘Are you the policia who’s been here before, asking about him?’
‘I am an inspector in the cuerpo.’ He hoped she would regret the solecistic manner of her mistake.
She had a sharply featured face and an inquisitive manner. He was not surprised when she further remarked, falsely casual, ‘There’s a problem?’
‘We’re trying to help him.’
It was obvious she would have preferred a crime of some monstrosity. ‘Have you seen him in the past couple of hours?’ he persisted.
‘He went out to the beach after his coffee in the smoke room.’
Alvarez left, waited for a couple of cars, which had ignored the no entry sign, to pass, crossed the road to the beach. A brief search found Russell, lying on a towel, face up. He raised himself to a sitting position. ‘An unexpected visitor. More questions?’
‘Queries.’
Russell stood, pulled on a T-shirt, picked up the towel, shook and folded it. ‘Where do you want to ask them?’
‘Your room in the hotel.’
They crossed the road, entered the hotel, went up in the lift and along the passage to Russell’s room. He used the phone to order a coñac with ice and a lager. He sat on the bed, Alvarez on a chair. ‘What are the queries?’
‘Did you come to the island to ask Señor Picare for money?’
‘I’ve answered that more than once.’
‘Why did you go to Vista Bonita that day?’
‘What does that matter?’
‘Do I have to remind you that you were there on the day Señor Picare died and had been in his company? Indeed, Rosalía was upstairs, in a room which overlooks the pool and heard the señor arguing furiously with you, because you asked for money.’
‘Yet again, I did not.’
‘Then where did the money come from with which you entertain young ladies?’
‘I brought enough out with me.’
‘You are forced to stay in this hotel, yet could afford to entertain? Why are you lying?’
‘I’m not.’
‘Your lying makes me wonder why. Did you murder Señor Picare in order to gain the legacy?’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ he shouted.
‘A reasonable probability.’
There was a knock on the door which was opened by a maid who carried a tray. She noted Russell’s distressed state and that his shirt was in some disarray, looked briefly at Alvarez, hurriedly put the tray down on the small bedside table and left.
Alvarez stood, handed Russell the lager, picked up the brandy and sat once more.
‘I …’ Russell stopped.
‘You realise that at this stage, the only sensible thing is for you to tell the truth?’
‘Because of what had happened …’
‘Yes?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘For you, it might well matter a great deal. On the day the señor drowned and not long before we judge that happened, Rosalía was upstairs in Vista Bonita. The windows were wide open and the room she was in overlooks the pool. She heard you and the señor having what she describes as a very rough row.’
Russell stared through the window.
‘There has to be cause for anger. Whatever that was, it seems likely to provide the motive for Señor Picare’s murder.’
‘You … you’re trying to say I killed him.’
‘You had a meal with him on your first night on the island. Because you were in a hurry to see him?’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘And won’t until I hear the truth.’
‘I did go there to ask him if he could lend me some money.’
‘Lend?’
The suggestive question was ignored. ‘When I went there, I met Marta after the meal. She was wearing an attractive brooch and I told her how well it suited her. She blushed, murmured the señor had given it to her, fled.
‘That made me remember something Neil had said several years before at the pub when he’d drunk too well. If you’ve got money, you choose your target and she comes running. Cecily was behind the bar and told him that if he was a millionaire – it was before he sold the land – he’d have to look far and wide to find any woman who’d take a step in his direction. He replied that if he were rich, she’d visit his farm whenever she was invited.’
‘Which, I gather, is roughly what happened. How does that have anything to do with your meeting Marta?’
‘There was something else he used to say. If you take them to posh restaurants, drive them around in a sharp car, take them to theatres and they still hold out, give them some jew
ellery that looks expensive and you won’t have to open the bedroom door, they’ll do it for you.
‘When I saw the jewellery on Marta, heard he’d given it to her, I realised he was after her and being young and unworldly, she couldn’t judge why he’d been generous.’
‘Why couldn’t it have been a good-natured gift?’
‘When a middle-aged employer gives a piece of jewellery to a young female employee?’
‘You would not accept the possibility Señor Picare was aware of Marta’s insecurity and thought the gift might provide her with the confidence she could gain from possessing something others didn’t?’
‘No.’
‘Did you speak to Marta?’
‘Warn her what he was after? To her, I was all but a stranger and she had no reason to believe what I said. She would have been embarrassed and shocked because I could imagine she would ever give way to Neil.’
‘You did nothing.’
It had been as statement, not a question. Russell’s voice rose. ‘I was going to sit around after what happened to June?’
‘Who is she?’
‘My daughter.’
‘You are married?’
‘On paper.’
‘Your wife stayed in England when you came here?’
‘She’d already left me and taken June with her when she went to live with another man. I came out here to get over things. A few months after I arrived, I had a letter which had gone all around the Balearics because it had the wrong post code. She wrote that Peter, her new man, was trying to mess with June and would I have them back.’
Alvarez noticed Russell’s fingers were tightly clenched. ‘Did you not reply?’
‘You think me such a shit, I ignored what she’d told me? She’d given me a telephone number. When I rang, a man told me my wife and June had left there and he couldn’t say where they’d gone.’
‘Have you heard from your wife again?’
‘No,’ he said, his voice low. He spoke more strongly. ‘She had the name of this hotel so if I was here, she could write or phone me. For June’s sake, I wanted to beg them to return. She had emptied our joint savings accounts and Mr Universe had great muscles, but nothing more. That’s why, even knowing how much Neil would enjoy being lord of the manor, contemptuously handing a groat to a peasant, I asked him to lend me some money. I had to, for June’s sake. I imagined Peter putting his hands on June, telling her it would make her feel happy …’ He stopped abruptly, lowered his head.
In Search of Murder--An Inspector Alvarez Mallorcan Mystery Page 15
