A Murder Most Literate

by Jefferson Bonar

  A Murder Most Literate

  A Domingo Armada Mystery

  Jefferson Bonar

  Step Into History

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  Chapter One

  Somehow, the sound of someone violently pounding on the door cut through the din and grabbed Elvira’s attention. Her three girls, lovely as they were, were playing an indecipherable game with each other that, as most games they played, required quite a lot of squealing at each other and running about. It was Tuesday night in the Cordoba household, a night when chaos was allowed to reign, because Gregorio was out reading lectures at the university. All three girls loved their father dearly, but he could be intimidating when he wanted to be, which was usually about the amount of noise that was made after dinner, when the girls were at their most squirrely.

  On Tuesday nights, if the girls promised to get to their beds on time, Elvira was happy to let them run about a bit more than usual. The noise didn’t bother her as much as her husband. The girls needed to be allowed to shriek and cry at each other. They seemed so much happier without the shackles of their father’s many rules, which made the added chaos worth it to Elvira. As long as nothing got broken, of course.

  It was after their evening meal, and the girls were ramping up into their most energetic play of the whole day, those precious few minutes of total childhood abandon before someone inevitably hurt themselves and the evening would collapse into tears, accusations, and screaming. But before that moment, the girls brought a joy to Elvira’s life that was unmatched by anything else. It also helped that Maria, her maid, was there to help out.

  “Girls, get down from that. You know your father doesn’t like you playing on his favourite chair!” Maria said as she chased the girls about in the parlour. Her words were ignored as the youngest, Olivia, climbed up on the chair, laughing maniacally and trying to jump from it onto Maria’s back.

  When the pounding came, Elvira resented being interrupted during such an important part of the day. For the rest of the week, her husband would be home, demanding peace and quiet, not allowing the girls to do much but play quietly on the floor with their dolls. This was their only time to let themselves go a bit mad, which was something Elvira felt was important.

  But the pounding would not go away. It was strange. No one ever visited them this late at night. Was she sure she heard it? The house lay on a very busy road. The constant traffic outside brought a host of thumps and rumbles outside their door that everyone had gotten used to ignoring over the years.

  Another thump, louder this time. The girls grew quiet, their play interrupted. Maria couldn’t help but look concerned, which the girls sensed and made them worry, as well.

  Elvira, wanting to calm everyone’s nerves, rose gracefully and went to answer the door.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  A man pushed the door open violently and barged his way into the house, bringing with him a sour odour of sweat and manure.

  “Where is he?” growled the man, searching the parlour.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Where is Gregorio? I want to see him. Now!”

  “My husband is out at the moment. Now who are—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Señora. I’m in no mood for more lies!”

  The man grimaced at Elvira, forcing her to take a step back. He then glared at Maria and the three young girls staring at him. His eyes darted about the room, like he suddenly felt uncomfortable. But he focused again on Elvira.

  “Gregorio!” the man shouted to the rest of the house.

  “I told you, he isn’t here. Now, my name is Elvira Cordoba. I…am pleased to meet you. And you are?”

  Elvira struggled to keep her composure. She was just as afraid as the children. She had no idea what this man planned to do. From the looks of him, it was nothing pleasant. She knew it sounded funny for her to address him as if he’d just arrived for a banquet, but she didn’t know how else to defuse the tension.

  “Tell him Teo is here. And I want what I’m owed. Tonight.”

  “Owed? Gregorio owes you money?” Elvira asked. “For what, may I ask?”

  Teo grinned at her. It was a greasy, wide grin that showed the remnants of his foul, broken teeth. He was unshaven, with a dusty beard and broad shoulders, and hands covered in callouses. It wasn’t hard to tell this was a man who spent his life on the road, where bathing regularly was not a virtue. The smell of beer was still on his breath, which made Elvira queasy.

  “I’ll let him tell you that. Just get him here.”

  “Gregorio is giving a lecture at the university tonight, as he does every Tuesday night. If you were truly a friend of his, you would have known that.”

  “I never said he was a friend. Why would I be friends with such a scoundrel?”

  Scoundrel? Elvira was so confused. Nobody had ever described Gregorio like that before. As far as anyone at the university was concerned, he was a respectable man. Yes, his career hadn’t advanced as quickly as they would have liked, but it wasn’t because he was hated. In fact, his students loved him. His family loved him. His colleagues loved him. Why would anyone have reason to call him a scoundrel?

  “I would like you to leave, please,” Elvira said. “Or I will get the attention of the authorities.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Señora,” Teo said, showing little fear. “You and your husband have a lot more to fear from them than I do.”

  What did that mean? Elvira was so confused she was feeling woozy.

  “Wherever that bellaco Gregorio is, go get him and bring him here. Once he pays his debt, I’ll be on my way.”

  Elvira sensed there would be no more arguing with this man. She didn’t want him in her house for a moment longer than was needed. His boots, worn thin and covered in mud, were making a mess on the tiles where he stood, and he made the children ever more uncomfortable. Something had to be done quickly to get him to go away.

  And the only person to do that was Gregorio. She would have to fetch him.

  “Very well. Come with me. I will take you to him to—”

  “Why? So you can lose me in the darkness? No. I told you, I’m not leaving here without my money. You bring him back here. I’m done walking around in the dark tonight.”

  “I won’t leave you alone with my children.”

  “I’m not here for them. I’m here for your husband, that’s all. Now go.”

  “Don’t worry, Señora,” Maria said, holding them close to her. “I’ll be here. They’ll be safe with me.”

  Elvira hated the situation. She decided Teo was unredeemable. She always tried to see the best in people, but there was no good in him. He lived his life no different than the rats she occasionally had to chase out of the house, caring for little beyond his next meal.

  “Just put them to bed, Maria. It’s past their bedtime anyway. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  She got a nod of acknowledgement from Maria as Teo plopped himself into the chair the girls had just been playing on, the one her husband had forbid them from touching, and put his worn boots on the table, shaking the caked soil from their soles all over the floor and exposing where holes had been worn through the bottoms, exposing the ragged remnants of wool socks inside.

  Elvira found the whole display nauseating and was happy to be out in the fresh air. She worried for her children and found her anger being turned toward her husband. How dare Gregorio bring such a dangerous man into their lives! What was he thinking? And what was this all about?

  Elvira was soon walking briskly down the road that curved off to the west to go around the church of San Polo
, where the family attended mass on Sundays. There was very little light left to navigate by, as the last of the twilight’s rays were beginning their descent from a dark blue into the blackness of night. The traffic around her was thinning fast, as few beyond those who had lived here their whole lives dared to try to find their way on a moonless night such as this.

  But Elvira could walk these streets with her eyes closed if she had to. She knew every rut, every pothole, every stone to avoid, as she’d grown up here and walked this road nearly every day of her life.

  The road soon joined up with the Rúa de San Martín, the main thoroughfare that took her north toward the university. Here, the traffic was a bit heavier, as the last of the merchants who had spent the day hawking their wares in the daily market made their way to the River Gate that would take them out of the city. It was hard to see, as the sliver of a moon was covered in wispy clouds, making the sight of the large horse-pulled carts she passed lose their forms, becoming grey blobs with no form, as if they were dreams only half-remembered in the morning.

  Elvira continued north up the narrow lane until she came to the main entrance to the university, where a single door had been left open. The burning orange glow of a candle lit the doorway and cast a shadow of the night porter just inside, a hulk of a man who had little patience for drunk students wanting to sneak inside to vandalise their lecture halls.

  “Buenas noches, Señora Cordoba,” the porter said with a smile. He looked at her, confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here after dark.”

  “Buenas, Francisco. I was hoping to speak to my husband. It’s a matter of urgency. May I go inside?”

  Francisco was a man she knew well. A giant with a big heart and a wife who always brought homemade wine to dinner parties. Elvira found it a bit strong, but it was always popular with her guests. He’d been one of the first people they’d met when Gregorio had first accepted his position here, and Elvira had made a big effort to make friends with him. She’d been thankful to find he was a kind, honest man.

  Which was why it was odd that he looked at her with such a confused expression.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

  “I want to go see my husband. He’s giving a lecture right now. I won’t disturb him, I promise.”

  “But he isn’t here, Señora.”

  “Of course he’s here. He always has a lecture on Tuesday nights.”

  “Not as long as I’ve been working here, he hasn’t. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him here after dark.”

  Francisco’s words hit her in the chest like a stone. The shock of it was making her woozy again.

  “What…?”

  “Are you all right? Here, sit down.”

  Francisco stood from his chair and motioned for Elvira to take it. But she remained on her feet, still contemplating what he’d told her.

  “But Gregorio told me…he always reads lectures on Tuesday nights. Ever since he started here…it’s been every week….”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen him. And this is the only way into the university building at this time of night. Last I saw him was when he came in this afternoon. Said he needed something from his office.”

  “But…,” Elvira said, turning from Francisco. It was all so embarrassing. Gregorio had lied. And he’d been lying for three years. How had she not known? And more importantly, why? What had he been doing on Tuesday nights all this time? Was he down at the tavern right now, carousing with his friends, laughing at how much his wife didn’t know about him?

  Or was it worse than that? Was he seeing another woman? Did he have another family somewhere? It wasn’t unheard of. But how could he possibly have made that work?

  Whether it was true or not, Gregorio had lied to her. About this, and about knowing someone like Teo. What else had he lied to her about? How much did she really know her husband?

  Elvira pushed it all from her mind. She knew Gregorio. She’d known him for fifteen years. None of that was possible, which meant there was another explanation to all this. One that made more sense. There had to be.

  “His office…,” she said. “He must be in his office.”

  “That was a long time ago. He can’t still be in there.”

  “He’s in his office!” Elvira screamed. She surprised herself as much as Francisco.

  “All right…it’s all right,” Francisco said. “Go on in.”

  Elvira realised Francisco was gesturing for her to enter. She took a moment to compose herself, smiled at him, then walked calmly into the university building.

  It was a typical, quadrangle building of two stories, built around an indoor courtyard containing crumbling black and white tiles and a fountain that rarely had water running in it.

  She took the stairs to the second floor and turned down the long dark corridor where most of the faculty offices were located. It was a dark, dank place with few windows and a lot of dust from all the papers stored within the thick oak doors.

  As such, the corridor should have been completely black. But at the very end, in Gregorio’s office which was shared with two other professors, she could see a candle burning.

  Elvira felt a rush of relief at first. So, he had been at his office all day! Whatever the reason, it was at least an explanation.

  As she approached, however, she became aware of a whimpering sound echoing in the corridor. A dark mass on the floor gained form as she approached it, and she could soon make out that it was a man, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, crying into his hands.

  She knew those bony, knuckled hands. They were those of Gregorio’s colleague, Enrique. Elvira had always found him a bit strange and off-putting, but she had felt obliged to let him into their social lives anyway, for her husband’s sake. He was always either bragging or complaining, always with just a bit too much intensity.

  That was why this display was so odd. He hadn’t seemed the type capable of expressing such emotion.

  “Enrique…? What is wrong?” she whispered.

  Enrique was startled and pulled his long, bony fingers away from his face. He looked at her with total anguish, then returned his face to his hands, unable to speak.

  That’s when Elvira became aware of a smell emanating from inside the office. It was a fleshy smell, like what you would get a whiff of while looking over the carcasses of a meat seller. But this was much stronger, much more intrusive.

  Elvira pushed the office door open, realising her hand was shaking. The candle she’d seen was sitting on Gregorio’s desk. It was nearly burned out, with just a glowing wick perched atop a pile of burned wax. It wasn’t much light, but it was enough to see that Gregorio was indeed there. He was seated behind the desk, leaning far back in his chair. In his chest was a dagger. The blood around the gaping wound had begun to congeal, but not before blood had pooled on the floor, filling in the missing bits of grout between the old tiles.

  But the blood had also made it to the walls, and it was smeared over the desk and the papers that had been scattered about. The feeling in the room was of pure savagery, and her husband, her poor husband, had been the victim of it.

  Elvira let out a scream, then put a hand to her mouth as if trying to stop it. But the horror was too much. She screamed again and again, trying to use her voice to blow away the shock of what she’d seen.

  But it was futile. The horror sank its teeth deeper and deeper into her heart until she knew it would remain there forever.

  Chapter Two

  Armada bristled at the sensation of the corregidor’s clammy hand in his own. It was hot in this office, even though the large windows overlooking the plaza outside were open. A century ago, the view would have been grand—the city’s main cathedral looming over the east, with the tranquillity of the plaza below. The plaza was filled with students and faculty discussing the big ideas of the day, all under the protection of the blooming magnolia trees above their heads. But that tranquillity had been shattered now that the construction
of the new cathedral had begun in earnest. The building was sprawling and ambitious. It would take decades, perhaps centuries, to complete, and it had taken over much of the old city centre. The plaza’s beauty was now ruined by piles of earth and stone, and sweaty men grunting and clanging tools all day, a perfect representation of man’s restless desire to build ever bigger and greater, never able to enjoy what already existed.

  The man in front of him was no different. He was ambitious, as evidenced by the red satin shirt with overflowing sleeves, velvet jacket dripping in embroidery, black hosiery and high leather boots. Every effort had been made to show off his wealth and status. Men like this were never satisfied with what they already had. Armada rarely had time for officials like him. Their ambitions usually meant their loyalties lay with themselves or with anyone who could help their careers, not the case at hand. They inevitably ended up an impediment to finding justice, and Armada knew it wouldn’t be long before they were enemies.

  “You must be constable Domingo Armada,” the man said, extending his hand. “I am Don Arturo Francisco-Gutierrez, corregidor of the University of Salamanca. Thank you for getting here so quickly. It must have been quite a trip from Granada.”

  “It was no trouble,” Armada said, lying. The trip had been arduous to say the least, as the spring rains had come to La Mancha and made navigating the deep-rutted roads there almost impossible.

  “I was told by the majordomo of the Holy Brotherhood here in Salamanca that you were the best at this sort of case.”

  “What sort of case, exactly?”

  There was a burst of laughter in the corridor from some professors having a loud discussion outside. This startled Arturo, who went to the office door and closed it. With the threat of being overheard removed, he finally allowed the worry he’d been feeling to show on his face.

  “Three days ago, one of our junior professors was found dead in his office. His name was Gregorio Cordoba. I knew him. A family man and a good Catholic, but he was never destined to go much further in his career. He was terrible at talking to other people. He had no patience for them. But he could be funny when he wanted to be. And he did try sometimes. It just wasn’t enough. And he had a family…a beautiful wife, and three daughters….”