by Roger Keevil
“Yeah, we nearly got I.D. cards in the U.K. a while back,” said Copper, “but it never came to anything.”
“But it is changing here also,” said Alfredo, “and they will stop the cards with pictures for the foreign people. This makes my job much more hard. But for us Spanish, we are used to it, so we do not worry, and it is necessary for getting jobs and driving licences.”
“So who else have you got to show us?” interrupted Constable, anxious to return to the matter in hand. “Are there many more?”
“Not too many. Look, here is also Eve, who you know from my bar…” Another face appeared.
“Oh, we know her too, don’t we?” said Copper. “That’s the estate agent woman we got the keys from… Liza something… ”
“Liza Lott,” resumed Alfredo. “Yes, she has the office just across the road. And then here is Mr. Berman… he is employed by Mr. Connor… and here is Mr. Torrance, who works for him as well. They are both on his… what is the word?”
“Workforce?” suggested Copper.
“Yes, that is it. I can tell you the addresses of all these people, because I think you will want to talk to them all, yes?”
“Absolutely, why not?” responded Constable with ironic cheerfulness. “As we seem to be on the case, we’d better make a proper job of it, hadn’t we, David?”
“As you say, sir, absolutely,” agreed Copper with a smile. “I was getting a bit bored anyway. So, is that the lot, Alfredo?”
“No, I have two more.” Click. “Look, this is Mrs. Stone… she has a business which works with Mr. Connor on his buildings.” Another click. “And this last one is Mr. Husami.”
“Mr. Whose what?” enquired Copper. “I thought you said they were all English. That doesn’t sound too English to me.” He examined the image of the deeply-tanned face on the screen. “He doesn’t look all that English either. Sorry, that doesn’t sound very P.C., does it?”
“It is Mr. Husami,” repeated Alfredo. “Hoo-sah-mee. Sorry, I know I say English, but to us in Spain you are all English. It is because you have all different names for your country – sometimes it is England, sometimes it is United Kingdom, sometimes it is Britain, so for us it is easier to say English. He sounds English to me when he talks. I think he is half British. You will meet him – he will tell you.”
“And that’s it?”
“Yes. Here, I give you addresses for all these people.” Alfredo swiftly scribbled on a sheet of paper.
“In which case, I suppose we’d better get on with it,” said Constable, getting to his feet.
“Andy, I have to tell you, I am very grateful to you for this help.” Alfredo stood and proffered his hand to his two colleagues. “But you see, with the fiesta I have no people, and maybe if we do not start quickly… ”
“Yes, I know,” replied Constable. “Strike while the iron’s hot, that’s what we say. Come on, David – duty calls. Don’t bother about giving us a lift, Alfredo,” he added as the Spaniard reached for his car keys. “We’ll walk. I think better on my feet.”
“Just a thought, guv,” said Dave Copper. “If we’re on duty, can I go back to calling you ‘sir’?”
“Sergeant,” smiled Andy Constable, “I think that would be a very good idea.”
*
On the steps of the police station, Alfredo once again offered his hand in farewell. As the two Britons turned to leave, a car drew into the car park, and a familiar figure stepped out and crossed the road towards the row of shops opposite.
“Look, guv,” said Copper. “That’s the woman from the property agency, isn’t it?”
“It is,” agreed Constable, consulting the sheet Alfredo had given him. “Estate agent Liza Lott. Well, I did say something about striking while the iron was hot, and I don’t suppose it will get much hotter than this. Why don’t we go and have a word with her now?” He turned to Alfredo. “I imagine the word hasn’t got around yet about your dead man, so we may achieve something with an element of surprise. I’m assuming she knew this Juan Manuel, of course?”
“You are right, Andy,” replied Alfredo. “But everybody knew Juan Manuel, because he was a very popular guy, so this will not mean anything special.”
“Not universally popular, it seems to me,” commented Dave Copper in an undertone to his superior. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be lying in a hole in Percy Vere’s garden with his feet sticking up in the air.”
“Perspicacious as ever, sergeant, if not particularly tasteful,” said Constable with a raised eyebrow. A thought struck him. “Look, Alfredo, I’m only too happy to help you out on this one – well, maybe that’s overstating it a bit, but we are where we are. But as far as these suspects – I suppose we have to call them that – as far as they’re concerned, I’m just some bloke on holiday, or worse, a total stranger. I can’t think that they’re going to take kindly to it if I just go barging in on my own say-so and start asking questions about a murder. I think you are going to have to give us some sort of authority, otherwise nobody’s going to co-operate.”
“You are right, Andy. What I will do, I will call all the people and I will tell them that I have arranged the help of an English detective… ”
“… because of specialist knowledge of the British community,” put in Dave Copper. “That might make whoever did this a bit jumpy if they think we know more than we do.”
“Good bluff. I like it.” Constable nodded approvingly. “So shall we make a start with Liza Lott?” He gestured towards the other side of the road, where the estate agent had disappeared into her premises. “Alfredo, if you wouldn’t mind, could you come over and do the introduction in person, as you’re here. It might save a few minutes.”
As the two-tone bleep sounded as the door to the agency opened to admit the three officers, Liza Lott looked up in surprise.
“Sorry, gentlemen, you’re a bit early. I’ve only just got here myself, and we don’t actually open until nine o’clock.” She took in the identity of her visitors. “It’s David and Andy from the ‘Casa del Torero’, isn’t it? Is everything all right down there? I hope you haven’t come in with a complaint. That’s usually the only reason anyone comes in to see me this early in the day.” In response to the silence which greeted her remarks, the professional smile on her face faded. “Captain Alfredo, I don’t very often see you in here.” The uncertainly in her voice became more pronounced. “Is there some sort of a problem?”
“Yes, I think you can say that. And I have asked my two friends here if they will help me to solve it, and now I ask you if you will help them and answer their questions.”
“What questions? What about? And why are they asking me? Look, will somebody tell me what this is all about.”
Andy Constable stepped forward. “I think I’d better introduce myself properly, madam. I’m Detective Inspector Constable, and this is my colleague Detective Sergeant Copper.”
“You’re British police?” Liza’s surprise was evident. “I thought you were here on holiday. That’s what you told me. Are you telling me you’re here on some sort of investigation?”
“I’m afraid that it wouldn’t be prudent to comment on that, madam,” responded Constable smoothly. “But in fact, the reason we’re in Spain has nothing to do with the reason we’re here now. Captain Alfredo has asked us to assist him as… ”
“Consultants.”
“Thank you, Copper. That was very well put. As consultants, as my sergeant says, into a case which has unexpectedly arisen. Unfortunately, there has been a suspicious death.”
Liza’s eyes opened wide. “Whose death? What do you mean, suspicious? Who’s died?”
Andy Constable turned to Alfredo. “Captain…?”
Alfredo assumed a more official tone. “This morning we have discovered, at the villa of Mr. Vere, a body which we believe to be Juan Manuel Laborero.”
“Juan Manuel? He’s dead? Are you sure?” Liza’s shock appeared genuine.
“Yes, we
are sure that he is dead,” replied Alfredo grimly. “And by now, I think we will also be sure that it is Mr. Laborero. And as we know you were at the party last night where he was last seen, we want you to tell us what you know.”
Liza subsided on to a chair, pale beneath her tan. “Juan Manuel’s dead? I can’t believe it. And that’s why you’re here?” There was incredulity in her voice, mixed with a trace of something else which Constable could not quite put his finger on. The incongruity nagged at him. He put it aside in his mind for the time being.
“I’m happy to take it from here, Captain Alfredo, if that’s all right by you.” A formal note had entered Constable’s voice.
“Of course, Andy – Inspector. I will go and make those telephone calls. And here is my card with my mobile number on it. If you want anything, you call me.”
“Good point. Copper, let Captain Alfredo have your mobile number as well. Then if anything comes up, no doubt you will let us know.”
“Of course.” Alfredo shook hands again “And then I will go back to Mr. Vere’s house. Perhaps I will see you there later?”
*
As the agency door closed behind Alfredo, Constable turned back to Liza Lott.
“If you don’t mind, Miss Lott, I’ll make a start on those few questions, if you’re up to it?”
“Yes, inspector,” said Liza, taking a deep breath and recovering a more normal colour.
“Do you mind if we sit down?” Constable seated himself on a leather sofa in the reception area. “Oh, and I don’t suppose you could let my sergeant here have some paper and a pen so that he can make a few notes if he has to. We haven’t really come equipped this morning.” He smiled blandly.
“Help yourself, sergeant,” said Liza, gesturing to the front desk. “There should be some shorthand notepads in the top drawer, if that is any good to you.”
“Perfect, madam. You’re very kind.” Copper seated himself alongside the inspector.
Andy Constable marshalled his thoughts.“It’s obviously come as a shock, and I apologise that it’s probably something of an imposition, having to answer questions from a British policeman, but the Captain was very anxious not to lose any time over the investigation, bearing in mind that, as he told us, his facilities are somewhat limited over the fiesta weekend. So if you’re all right…”
“Please.”
“Right then, Miss Lott. It is Miss, is it?”
“Yes, inspector. Elizabeth Angela Marguerite Lott, if you want the full name, which is why everyone shortens it to Liza.”
“With a Zee,” confirmed Copper.
“Yes,” replied Liza. “So, inspector, what do you want to know?” Her voice had regained its former calm assurance, but Constable couldn’t help noticing the tremor in the scarlet-taloned hands which twisted in her lap.
“I think some background would help us find our feet, Miss Lott,” smiled Constable affably. “How you knew the dead man, how come you were at the party last night, that sort of thing.”
Liza took a deep breath. “Well, inspector, you’d better have the full life story then, hadn’t you?”
“Just as much as you think relevant, Miss Lott. I don’t want my sergeant here getting writer’s cramp too early in the day. Can I assume that you know Mr. Vere through his new villa?”
“That’s right. The estate agency business here isn’t all I do – we’ve also got a side of the business which caters for people coming out from the U.K. who want to come and live on the Costa.”
“Do they still do that?” Constable was surprised. “From what I’d read in the papers, the whole Spanish property bubble had burst, and a lot of people had lost a lot of money. So you’re telling me that’s wrong?”
“Not exactly,” explained Liza. “It used to be like that – there were loads of companies setting up in competition to sell holiday flats and villas, and a lot of Spanish building firms who were building whole hillsides of apartments. It was all speculation, mostly on borrowed money. That’s what I was doing in the early days, to be honest – that’s how this side of San Pablo started to develop. But since the crash, that’s all fallen apart. A lot of people have gone bust.”
“But not you.”
“No. Not me. Because whatever you might have heard, there are still people with money, so they’re quite happy to come in and snap up the bargains.”
“Spanish people?”
“More than you’d think.”
“I’ve heard,” interrupted Dave Copper, “that they say there are more 500 Euro notes under Spanish mattresses than there are in circulation in the rest of Europe. Do you reckon that’s right?”
“Black money, sergeant,” answered Liza. “That’s what they call it. Not that I have anything to do with that kind of thing. But to answer your question,” she went on, “not just Spanish people. Scandinavians – East Europeans – Russians… ”
“Russians?”
“Oh yes. Not your ordinary Russian-in-the-street, of course. Businessmen, shall we say – a certain type of businessmen, I imagine, but I don’t see any point in asking too many questions. Their money’s as good as anyone’s. But anyway, all of this means that I’m quite busy on the agency side handling the normal run of property re-sales.”
“But you mentioned the other side of your business. British people who want to move out here?”
“That’s right. In fact, that is how I first met Percy – Mr. Vere. We do a service for people like him – they’re mostly retired, and they’ve got a bit of a nest-egg and they have a house in the U.K. which is worth a lot more now than when they bought it years ago… ”
“Even today?”
“Of course. I mean, if you bought a house, say, thirty years ago, the value of it has gone up a huge amount, and most of these people have paid off their mortgages by now. Even if they haven’t, the amount left to clear is probably only back-pocket money, so a lot of people have got a lot of cash, and they’d rather spend their retirement in the sun instead of slipping about on icy pavements during a British winter.”
“It sounds as if there’s a fair amount of cash floating about. And that’s where you come in?”
“That’s where we come in. What we do is… ”
“Sorry, that’s the second time you’ve said ‘we’,” broke in Andy Constable. “And by ‘we’ you mean…?”
“I’ve got an arrangement with the construction firm who build the villas.”
Copper fished in a pocket for the list of names he had noted down at Alfredo’s office. “Would that be Mr. Connor, madam?”
“Yes. We work together. In fact, what we can offer is the complete package.” Liza launched into what was obviously a well-rehearsed sales pitch. “We run small ads in the property papers in the U.K. which direct people to our website, and then what we do is arrange inspection tours so that people can fly out here. We book the flights, put them up in hotels, and then we take them round and show them all the sites which I identify through my local contacts. Then once they decide to go ahead, we arrange all the permissions, deal with the architects, and then the property is built by Mr. Connor’s company. And so you end up with a happy customer like Percy Vere.”
“Which must be very gratifying for you,” remarked Constable. “Well, no doubt we’ll be having a chat with Mr. Connor a bit later, so he can tell us more about where Mr. Laborero fitted in to all this.”
“Oh, he was in with us all along,” said Liza. “As he was the foreman on the works, it was the most obvious thing to do, because he spoke really good English. Most of our British customers don’t speak a word of Spanish, and my Spanish isn’t up to dealing with technical and legal terminology, so we always had Juan Manuel along to interpret for all the official matters – he was very good at taking care of things like that.” She paused and the animation drained from her face. “Yes, we make a really good team, the three of us. Sorry – made. We could never have done it without Juan Manuel’s help. I can’t really think
how we’ll go on now.”
Dave Copper leant forward. “Can you just tell me about what happened at the party last night, madam?”
Liza sighed and looked up in thought. “I can’t really tell you all that much, David – sergeant. I got there about nine-ish, and I just spent the evening chatting to various people as you do. Juan was there, and I talked to him at some point, but I was in and out, and he was in and out with other people – to be honest, I didn’t really pay much attention.”
“So you couldn’t say when you saw him last?”
“Not really. I’m sure he hadn’t left by the time I came away, because I didn’t want to stay too late because I had to come in here to open up this morning.”
“He never left at all, by the look of it,” replied Dave Copper bluntly, “seeing as he’s still there now, lying under half a ton of dirt, so that’s not much help to me, is it, madam?”
“Thank you, sergeant,” said Andy Constable swiftly. “If Miss Lott doesn’t know, she can’t very well tell us, can she?” He turned to Liza. “My sergeant gets frustrated sometimes when the information doesn’t fall into his lap as easily as he’d wish. So I think we’ll have to settle for what you’ve told us.” He got to his feet. “For now.”
“Of course, sir,” said Copper, standing. “We shall just have to see what else we can unearth from other people.” And in response to a glare from his superior, “Sorry. Just slipped out.”
As the two British officers headed for the door, Constable turned back as a thought seemed to occur to him. “Actually, Miss Lott, I’m quite surprised to see you here today at all, bearing in mind what the Captain told us about this weekend being a fiesta. I’d have thought that all the businesses would be shut down.”
“Oh, all the Spanish ones are,” replied Liza, as she stood and smoothed her skirt. “Except for the bars and the restaurants, which will all be doing a roaring trade. There’s nothing the locals enjoy more than a fiesta. But most of the British-owned businesses carry on as normal. After all, somebody has to sell the milk and the bread, and you never know when someone is going to get it into their head that today’s the day they start looking for a new house. I can’t afford to let a chance slip by, can I?” She smiled, her calm professional glamour restored.
