City of Buried Ghosts (An Inspector Domènech Crime Thriller Book 2)

by Chris Lloyd

  ‘I’ll go back to the adoption records,’ Josep said, his voice betraying his lack of confidence.

  ‘If you’ve seen him in Palamós,’ Manel offered, ‘he might be registered there under whatever name he’s using. We could go through land registry and voting register records between 1981 and the next five years to see if something comes up.’

  ‘Try it,’ Elisenda told him, ‘but it’ll take forever.’

  ‘I’ll give medical records from the time he might have been born a go,’ Montse said, ‘but that’ll be as impossible as the adoption records.’

  Elisenda and Àlex left the three of them looking at each other, all equally daunted by the task facing them, and picked up a pool car from the underground garage for the drive out to Palamós.

  ‘It’s hopeless,’ Àlex commented as he picked his way past the Devesa park and the traffic. ‘They’ll never find anything in the records.’

  In Palamós, they parked by the port and hurried into the old streets to the hotel, where the receptionist told them that Sucarrats had gone out and that he didn’t say when he’d be back. Elisenda went into the dining room, to the door that led down to the cellar room.

  ‘Do you have a key for this?’

  The receptionist fumbled through a chain attached to his belt and opened it for them. Pushing it open, Elisenda switched on the light. She and Àlex slowly descended the stairs into the anteroom, the receptionist following a few paces behind them, his curiosity overcoming any fear he might have felt. There was no sign of anything out of the ordinary among the stacks of wine bottles and boxes on the shelves. Noticing the receptionist behind them, Elisenda asked him if he had a key for the second door.

  The young man shook his head. ‘Only Senyor Sucarrats had a key to that door.’

  Elisenda glanced at Àlex once and made her mind up. She told the receptionist to go back upstairs and not let anyone past. Standing square in front of the frame, she lunged sharply with her foot next to the handle. The door burst open, the wood of the jamb splitting, part of the metal lock clattering loudly to the floor. She quickly jumped to one side and peered cautiously around the jamb. No sound came out of the room. Reaching for the switch on the wall inside the room, she flicked it on and peered in. She entered and Àlex followed her into the small room. Coming to a halt next to her, he turned to look at her, a puzzled expression on his face.

  Embedded in the plaster above the bust of Minerva was a spike. The dust from the hole gouged violently into the wall had wept in white over her blank features.

  ‘I think we’ve missed him,’ Elisenda commented.

  Chapter Forty Five

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘Maria,’ Elisenda cajoled her. ‘We can’t keep you safe here. I need you to come with us to somewhere we can keep you out of harm’s way.’

  ‘This is my home. I’m safe here. And I’m not leaving my dogs. I don’t know why you should think I’m in any danger.’

  ‘Please, Maria, I’ve told you. We think that Guillem Sucarrats might be responsible for the murders of Esteve Mascort and Ferran Arbós. He’s gone missing and I think that you are in danger.’

  ‘Why would I be in danger from him?’

  Elisenda looked in frustration at Àlex and back at Maria. ‘Because you have consistently lied to me about how much you know about the events at El Crit and the sale of illicit antiquities. We think Sucarrats might be the man that Mascort traded with and that he thinks that you can incriminate him. We think that might have already killed again to protect a secret from 1981. We don’t want you to become the next victim.’

  ‘Nonsense. I’m staying here.’

  Elisenda was distracted from saying any more by the sound of Flora, the Great Dane, pricking her head up from her usual place on the too-small rocking chair and keening in a low moan at a noise from outside. Àlex went out to look, coming back in almost immediately, telling Elisenda not to worry.

  ‘It’s the others,’ he told her. ‘They’ve arrived.’

  When Elisenda and Àlex had seen the spike in the wall at the hotel in Palamós, Elisenda’s first reaction had been that it was a setup.

  ‘If Sucarrats really is our killer, he’s done a runner, and he’s trying to put us off the scent. The spike is in the wall, not in the face. Sucarrats loves that shrine, he would do nothing to damage it. Anyone else would have buried the spike in the head to mirror the Indiketa practice.’

  Àlex had looked at the stone and shaken his head. ‘Too hard. Sucarrats or anyone else would have had a problem getting a spike through this stone. And it would have made too much noise.’

  Looking more closely, Elisenda had had to agree with him. ‘Either way, we need to find Sucarrats. And we need to protect Maria Pujol. I think she’s at risk.’

  Àlex had called the Mossos station in Palamós to organise protection and a Científica inspection of the hotel cellar, while Elisenda called Vista Alegre. She told the other three members of the team to meet her and Àlex at the cabin in the woods by El Crit. And to come in two cars.

  She’d hung up and considered another angle. ‘There’s also Ricard Soler. He’s been missing for some time. We don’t know if he’s already a victim, or if he’s the one responsible for this.’ She’d gestured at the spike casting a thin shadow over the stone face from the light embedded in the ceiling.

  In Maria’s cabin, Josep and Montse filed in, followed at a short distance by Manel, between them filling the small room and increasing the sensation of darkness in there. Elisenda explained to them what had happened and told them that Maria refused to move.

  ‘I want Montse and Josep to stay here to protect her until we can get a Seguretat Ciutadana patrol from Palafrugell or La Bisbal out here. Àlex, you and Manel talk to Poch in La Bisbal and organise the search for Sucarrats. I’ll go and see Jutge Rigau to get him to authorise that. I also want to have a word with someone in La Fosca called Miquel Canals, who appears to know Sucarrats. He might know where he’d go.’

  * * *

  ‘No, judge, I need the three authorisations.’

  Rigau had a harassed air about him and was proving to be more of a stickler than usual.

  ‘And I will issue them, Elisenda, I just need to go over them with you. I don’t understand why you need another one for Ricard Soler. We already have an alert out for him.’

  ‘Okay, Pere, he’s not the most important. I just wanted to make sure that the efforts to find him were renewed.’

  He held his hands up. ‘That’s a Mossos matter, surely. You don’t need my authorisation for that.’

  ‘I need it updated and upgraded. I think it’s become more imperative that we find him. He’s either implicated in the whole matter, whether it’s the murders or the illicit antiquities, or he’s another victim. Or potentially another victim.’

  He opened a document on his computer. ‘Okay, Elisenda, I see your concerns. I can do it. Now, Maria Dolors Pujol Quintí…’

  ‘It’s the one for Guillem Sucarrats that’s the most pressing. At the moment, he’s our main suspect for the murders of Ferran Arbós and Esteve Mascort.’

  ‘The same perpetrator for both crimes? I see.’

  ‘I want a search and arrest warrant out on him, now. It is extremely urgent that we find him. The warrant for Maria Pujol is for her safety. I want Seguretat Ciutadana patrols at her home.’

  ‘Can’t she be taken to a safe place?’

  ‘She refuses.’

  He paused to consider Elisenda’s requests and finally agreed. ‘They’ll be with Sergent Poch within the half-hour,’ he promised.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Outside, it was already beginning to get dark, even though it was only mid-afternoon, but it heightened her sensation of time being wasted. She jogged from the court to the police station and went in to see Poch to tell him to expect the warrants from the judge.

  ‘The one for Guillem Sucarrats is by far the most important,’ she told him. ‘Priority is to be given to tha
t. And I need Seguretat Ciutadana with Maria Pujol as soon as you can, so I can free up two of my team.’

  ‘I’ll see to that as soon as the warrants come through,’ he promised.

  ‘I’m sending you a copy of the photo of Sucarrats now.’ She emailed a file from her phone to his. ‘And here are the details about his car. Can you circulate those to your team and the ones from the Palamós station?’

  The Mossos only had a small station in Palamós, but she wanted everyone available to be out searching for the hotelier.

  ‘Will do.’

  She left him and drove to La Fosca. She tried Miquel Canals’ door but there was no reply, even though she could see a light on in the house. She gave up after a few rings and went back to her sister’s house while she decided on her next move. She checked her phone, but the signal was down again and she shoved it in her jacket pocket out of frustration. She stood up again just as the doorbell rang. It was Miquel Canals.

  ‘Sorry I didn’t answer,’ he explained. ‘I was in the shower and didn’t get out in time. What was it you wanted to see me about?’

  ‘Come in.’

  He looked puzzled and followed her in. ‘That had an official ring to it. Is this official?’

  She showed him to one of the sofas and took another one opposite him. ‘Not at all. I just wanted to ask you something.’

  He sat back and studied her. ‘Can I ask you something? Are you ever not a cop?’ His voice was cool.

  ‘No, probably not. I wanted to ask you how come you knew Guillem Sucarrats. I saw you with him in Palamós this morning.’

  ‘Following me?’

  ‘No. Following Guillem Sucarrats.’

  ‘Ah, judge me by the company I keep. I’ve known him pretty much all of my life, although I suppose in a very superficial way. My father and I used to stay at his hotel when I was a kid. We took our summer holidays up here.’

  ‘When did you last stay there?’

  ‘Last autumn, if you really must know. My father was dying and I took him there one last time. And if you’re really interested, it was one of the saddest moments of my life, when my father and I reversed roles and he became my child and I became the one looking after him.’

  She watched him closely as he spoke. He suddenly sounded drained.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she finally said. ‘I’m a cop. I have to question everything. Everyone. Your story is exactly the same as Sucarrats’.’

  He stared at her coldly. ‘Well, lucky me, Elisenda. I take it that’s all we have to say to each other.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Miquel, I had to be sure. I don’t want to suspect you.’

  ‘Well, now you don’t, can I go? I have things to do. I have to get back to work.’

  She sighed. ‘I can’t apologise any more.’ She tried to think of something more to say to repair the situation. ‘Back to work? Have you had enough of the quiet life?’

  He seemed to calm a little. ‘I need to work. I’m getting bored. And I don’t want to end up as poor as a beggar’s wallet.’

  Chapter Forty Six

  ‘Are we going to tell Elisenda?’ Josep asked Montse in a whisper.

  Montse looked at him, unsure. ‘I don’t know. Not yet. Maybe we should keep it to ourselves for the moment.’

  ‘What about Àlex?’

  ‘Let’s see.’

  Josep got up to help Maria in the kitchen. She was making a cup of coffee. She seemed to him to live on it. He wished they’d brought some food as they had no idea when the Seguretat Ciutadana patrol would turn up to relieve them.

  ‘Do you never worry about not being able to communicate while you’re here, Maria?’ he asked her, looking in dismay at the barren columns on his mobile phone.

  She looked sternly at him over the steam rising from the blackened cafetera. ‘I would be more concerned at being able to be disturbed by people. You all talk far too much as it is, without all your mobile phones and computers to give you even greater opportunities to be a nuisance.’

  She poured the coffee and put some milk that had been warming on the stove into a jug and placed the lot on an old tray. Josep took it from her and carried it through into the living room.

  ‘My grandmother had a table stove like this,’ Montse commented when they brought in the tray. ‘It’s lovely and warming.’

  It was her turn for a stern look. As there were only two chairs by the table, Josep picked up the rocking chair and pulled it over. Flora immediately loped across from where she’d been sitting by the front door and growled at him.

  ‘That’s her chair,’ Maria told him. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to put it back where it was. There’s a stool in the kitchen you can use.’

  Josep did as she suggested and finally sat down on the stool, his knees tucked up uncomfortably against the side of the table top as they wouldn’t fit underneath. Flora went back to her post by the door. A gust of wind rattled the old timber frame and whistled down the flue leading up to the ceiling from the stove.

  ‘There’s a wind blowing up,’ Josep commented.

  ‘There is,’ Maria agreed. ‘But that’s not what we need to worry about.’ She pointed to Flora sitting by the door. ‘She only sits there when she can sense something. Long before we ever do.’

  * * *

  ‘Do you ever get used to this, Sergent?’

  ‘Used to what?’ Àlex asked.

  ‘All this,’ Manel said, gesturing vaguely out of the window. ‘Girona. The sea. The people.’

  Àlex glanced across at the new recruit. He was driving as Manel still had to get to know the region and they were in too much of a hurry for him to have to learn that evening. ‘They also have to get used to you, Caporal. It works both ways. Never forget that.’

  Manel grunted, evidently dissatisfied with the answer.

  They pulled into the police station in La Bisbal and went to see Sergent Poch. Àlex introduced him to Manel.

  ‘Any sightings of Sucarrats?’ Àlex asked him.

  Poch looked at him. ‘We’ve only just had the authorisation from the judge. I’ve got the photo and the car registration circulating now among uniforms here and in Palafrugell, but it’s too soon to hear anything back.’

  Àlex checked his watch and shook his head in irritation. Elisenda had seen the judge an hour ago.

  ‘What about relief for my two caporals? I need them out searching for Sucarrats.’

  ‘Elisenda mentioned that, but I haven’t heard from the judge. As soon as I do, I can arrange it, but I’m having to recall Seguretat Ciutadana officers who are off-shift as it is, and I’ve got two of my own team down with this flu, and one of the Palafrugell team is off sick, so it’s going to take some time anyway.’

  Àlex looked aghast. ‘You haven’t heard from the judge?’

  ‘They’re in the same boat as we are. Half the staff there is off with this bug.’

  Àlex and Manel left the building and walked to the court.

  ‘See what I mean?’ Manel commented. ‘Girona. Can’t get anything done.’

  Àlex grunted and led him into the court building, asking at reception for Jutge Rigau.

  ‘He’s out, I’m sorry,’ the receptionist told him. Her voice was hoarse and her eyes were streaming.

  ‘Is his secretary in?’

  ‘He’s off sick, I’m afraid. Jutge Rigau is only working today because the other duty judge is at home with flu.’

  Àlex thanked her and asked for the judge’s mobile number. On the way back to their car outside the Mossos station, he tried ringing the number she gave him but it went to voicemail.

  ‘Girona,’ Manel muttered darkly.

  Àlex stopped in his tracks and waited until the caporal registered it and turned around to face him. When he did, Àlex approached him to close the gap, his face close to Manel’s.

  ‘One more comment about Girona, caporal,’ he told him, ‘and I will make sure that you are shipped off to some forsaken desk job in the back of beyond. Now shut up and do your jo
b.’

  Manel turned away from Àlex just that moment too soon not to be insubordinate.

  ‘Yes, Sergent.’

  * * *

  Elisenda stood at the sink in the kitchen, her hands leaning heavily either side of the zinc, and looked out at the darkness below.

  ‘Let me get you a drink,’ she’d told him, ‘so I can make up for being a cop all the time.’

  Canals was still in the living room. She’d offered him a drink to buy time while she thought.

  ‘Poor as a beggar’s wallet,’ she whispered to her reflection in the window. The phrase that was Ivan Morera’s favourite and not at all a common one. ‘So who are you? And who is Ivan Morera to you?’

  Because of the split-level house, the room was one storey up at the rear of the building and gave an unusual view over the trees and ill-lit and deserted roads. This was when life in a summer resort was less desirable, she thought. Her phone lay on the draining board next to her. It had no signal.

  ‘Was he your father? And if he really is dead, who’s the man on the beach?’ There were constantly more questions, more doubts, more dead-ends.

  ‘Everything all right?’ he called through.

  ‘Fine,’ she called back. ‘Won’t be a moment.’

  A set of car headlights approached the end of the road, travelling slowly as though it were looking for something. She watched as it slowed down and turned into the area below the house where the entrances to the garages were. She lost sight of it as it stopped directly below the window, outside the garage to the house where she was.

  ‘Out of wine,’ she called again. ‘Just going down to the cellar to fetch a bottle.’

  Cursing that she’d left her service pistol in the bedside table, like she always did at home, she picked up her car keys from the bowl on the kitchen counter and went down the stairs into the garage, turning the light on. Someone was gently trying to turn the backup manual handle on the outer door, but it was locked and wouldn’t open. Unlocking her car and taking out a baton that she kept in the door pocket, she stood back and pressed the wall button inside the garage that operated the electric door. Once again, she thanked her brother-in-law’s need for the best and most expensive, and the shutter raised quickly and silently.