by Roger Keevil
This is ridiculous, thought Constable. So far, all I’m getting is more and more questions and precious few answers, with suspects coming out of our ears. There must be some positive factors. Well, for a start, we can narrow the field. Wipe out that gaggle of building workers who were there at the start of the party. They were long gone by the time Juan met his fate – indeed, he saw them off the premises himself. And at least Percy Vere seemed to be in the clear. For all that he would have very obvious reasons to dislike Juan Manuel if ever the latter’s presumed underhand dealings in connection with Percy’s villa should come to light, there was no hint that they had done so, and indeed, Percy had been among the foremost in lauding Juan’s talents. Of course, that might have been all pretence – a few unguarded words overheard would have been sufficient, and Percy was not an unintelligent man. Indeed, Percy had overheard certain things at his party which might admit of an other-than-innocent explanation, but as far as could be ascertained, Percy was in plain view during the entire evening, throwing himself into his pleasurable duties as host with gusto. No, after Juan had disappeared into the dusk of the garden, Percy had never had the opportunity to seek him out. And even if he had, Constable could not quite visualise the elderly dapper gentleman creeping around a darkened garden with a baulk of timber in his hand, intent on wreaking vengeance on his betrayer.
Eve too could be eliminated. If there were one thing Eve could be accused of, it was her ready willingness to reveal information, a far cry from her self-professed discretion. By all accounts, she had never left the interior of the villa between her arrival and her departure, and indeed, a great deal of her time had been spent in Percy’s company, or else directing the long list of people who were at one time or another looking for Juan out into the darkened garden where he had last been seen. At one time or another, mused Constable. Timings could very well be at the heart of the mystery. A re-visit of Dave Copper’s notes might prove productive, but there was still something elusive as to which, out of all the motives under consideration, was the one which held the key. The killer motive, he thought with a smile.
The inspector looked at his watch. Half past eight. Time to get back to the villa, before Copper started to put two and two together over Constable’s absence and called out the local force on a missing person search. He trudged up the yielding sands towards the grass-dotted dunes and, reaching the road, sat and dusted off his feet, replaced his trainers, and began the walk up the long curving hill in the direction of the ‘Casa del Torero’.
*
“Morning, guv.” Dave Copper opened the apartment door to his slightly-puffing superior. “What happened to you, then? I thought you’d done a runner because it had all got too much for you.”
“Nothing of the kind, young David, as you should be very well aware. When did you ever know me allow a case to get the better of me? No, I just wanted a bit of quiet time to chew over all the facts and the people, so I’ve been for a walk along the beach. And very agreeable it was.”
“Get anywhere?”
“Only to the end of the beach.” Constable gave a grin. “No, I’ve had a few thoughts, some of which I hope I can hit on the head… ”
“Ouch! Not very tasteful, under the circumstances, guv.”
“Hmm, no, perhaps you’re right.” The inspector cast his eyes briefly upwards. “Sorry, Juan. But no, in answer to your question, I’m still thinking.”
“That’s what I reckoned, guv. That’s what I told Alfredo.”
“Alfredo? He’s been here?”
“He’s still here. He turned up a while ago. For a minute, from what he said, I had the ghastly feeling that they’d turned up another body, but fortunately not. One’s enough, I reckon. But apparently there’s some information come his way which he thinks is important, so he popped in here to pass it on. He’s sat down by the pool waiting. I offered him a coffee, but he said no.”
“I’m not at all surprised,” said Constable. “I’ve tasted your coffee. But I could murder a cup of tea.” He lifted his eyes once more. “Sorry again, Juan. Right, let’s find out what is so urgent that it brings the police chief calling before breakfast.”
“Good morning, Andy.” Alfredo stood and offered his hand. “I would apologise for calling on you so early, but I see that you are up even before me today.”
“Absolutely,” confirmed Constable. “I’ve been down at the beach to have a bit of a think. You know, fresh day, fresh air, fresh thoughts. You never know what’s going to occur to you when you’ve got no other distractions.”
“I know what you mean,” agreed Alfredo ruefully. “Some days, I am so busy that I do not actually have time to do my job.”
“David says you’ve got something for us. Oh, thanks,” he added, as Dave Copper placed two mugs of tea on the table, and the three sat. “Sure you won’t have something?”
“No.” Alfredo shook his head. “But I thought you should know this thing. My Commander has been in contact with me, and he has news which I think may be important. He has been told that Juan Manuel Laborero had made an arrangement for seeing a senior officer at the regional police headquarters in the city at half past twelve o’clock tomorrow. I have looked in his office diary that we found, and it is so. There is the time noted, but it does not say for what.”
Dave Copper was taken aback. “That’s a bit of a turn-up, isn’t it, guv? Have they got any idea what it was all about, Alfredo?”
“Yes and no. He informed them that he had information for them concerning a serious crime, which he would be willing to reveal to them in exchange for personal immunity.”
“And did he give any inkling as to what this crime was?” asked Constable. “Because it seems to me that there’s no great shortage of crimes and misdemeanours going on around here, from everything I’ve heard so far.”
“No, that was all,” replied Alfredo. “He refused to say anything more before the meeting.”
“And you knew nothing of this?”
“No. It was all done with very great secrecy. I think he must have been afraid of what would happen if the fact should be known.”
“And he was right,” said Constable heavily. “And I would be prepared to bet a very large amount that, if we knew what he was intending to reveal, we’d have this business wrapped up in five seconds flat. Oh well,” he continued, getting to his feet, “we’ll just have to rely on good old brain-power.”
“You know, guv, in a way, it’s almost a pity that Alfredo didn’t have another body to chuck into the mix this morning. It might have made things easier.”
“What?” Alfredo sounded incredulous. “You say you want another murder?”
“Well, no, not actually another murder as such,” explained Copper hastily. “But the guv here’s got a theory – one murder can be a pig to sort out, but if you’ve got two, sometimes you can make a link which points you in the right direction. Remember that business at Dammett Hall, guv? The only trouble here is, I can’t see how on earth we’re going to be able to make a connection, no pun intended, between Mr. Rookham and his electrics and Juan Manuel and his building works.”
“Yes, well, you keep thinking, sergeant,” said Constable condescendingly. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something if you towse your brain hard enough. In the meantime, if you’ll excuse me, Alfredo, I’m going to go and have my shower. I missed it this morning because I didn’t want to wake Sleeping Beauty here too early.” He nodded to indicate Copper. “He needs all the beauty sleep he can get. And brain rest,” he added, as he started up the stairs to the upper floor. “We’ll talk things over between ourselves – that’s if I can get Copper here to think sensibly for a change – and come up and see you later, if that’s okay.” He vanished into his room, and moments later the sound of a running shower could be heard.
“Is he angry with you?” enquired Alfredo delicately.
“No, no, don’t worry about that,” smiled Copper. “That’s just his way. He gets a bit s
nappy sometimes when he’s frustrated. I reckon he’s probably suffering from information overload, but he’ll sort himself out.”
Suddenly, a loud cry echoed from above.
“What the hell…?” Copper sprang in the direction of the spiral stairs, as Andy Constable, dripping and wrapped in a hastily-flung towel around his waist, appeared in the doorway of his room.
“David – you’re a bloody genius!”
“Dear God!” responded Copper with relief. “Hearing you yell, I thought for a minute we’d had that second murder after all.”
“Stop talking rubbish,” said Constable, as he clattered down the stairs to the terrace, “and get me that notebook of yours.”
“Panic not, guv,” replied Copper calmly, pulling it from the pocket of his shorts. “Here it is, always with me as instructed.”
“Let’s have a look.” Constable grabbed the notebook and hastily leaved through the pages, flicking rapidly backwards and forwards while the others watched bemused. He finally closed the book and sighed. A slow beaming smile appeared on his face. “Gotcha!” He handed the book back. “Thank you, David.”
Dave Copper laughed. “And there we have it, Alfredo. Archimedes has had his ‘eureka’ moment. Thank goodness you kept the towel on, guv.”
“What? I am sorry, I do not understand.” Alfredo looked utterly baffled.
“By George, he’s got it!” chuckled Copper. “I take it you have got it, sir?”
“Do you know, Sergeant, I do believe I have. And when I’ve got myself dried off, I shall sit down with that little book of yours and go through things in rather more detail, but I think we’re there.”
“Do you mean…?” Alfredo caught on. “You know who killed Juan Manuel?”
“That, and a great deal besides,” answered Constable. He practically skipped with delight, so far as the modestly-sized towel would permit, and saved it with a quick grab as it showed signs of slipping off. “Oh, I do love it when a plan comes together.”
“And you’re not going to tell us right now, are you, guv?” Copper turned to Alfredo. “That’s another one of the things he does,” he remarked in an undertone. “Drives me loopy.”
Andy Constable ignored his junior officer. “Alfredo, if you don’t mind me suggesting, here’s what I reckon you ought to do. Call up all the people in the case, and tell them each that you’ve received some sort of new information that you’d like to discuss with them. Don’t let on what it is – try and be a little mysterious if you can, but don’t make it sound too serious. We don’t want anyone taking fright and heading for the hills prematurely. See if you can possibly not let on that you’re getting in touch with everyone, but get them together in one place today sometime if you can. Your station up at the top would probably be best – and if you’ll take my advice, you might like to call in a couple of your boys as back-up and make sure you’ve got the keys to the cells handy. You might have one or two arrests to make.”
Alfredo did not seem to object at all to Constable taking control of the case in such an incisive manner. “If this is what you wish, Andy, then of course I will trust your judgement. I will do this. You say all the people – do you really mean everyone who was at the party on Friday?”
Constable considered for a moment. “No, perhaps not absolutely everyone. I think you can leave Percy Vere out of it, and Eve Stropper’s also in the clear, so you can give her a miss. After all,” he smiled, “someone’s got to run your bar. Oh, and don’t bother with all the builder’s lads – they were long gone before anything happened, so let’s not clutter the place up with them. So that leaves… ” He ticked them off on his fingers. “X-Pat Connor and Philippa Glass, Tim Berman and Roxanne Stone, Walter Torrance, Ewan Husami, and Liza Lott. Yes, I think that’ll do.”
“And then you will tell me what happened?”
“With the greatest of pleasure.”
“Then I will start to call people, and I will telephone you when it is all arranged.”
“Excellent. And I will now go and actually have that shower. Isn’t it amazing what beneficial effects a little running water can have?” Constable took a firmer grip on the wayward towel and made his way back upstairs.
“That,” commented Copper to Alfredo in reference to the retreating back, “is one very happy detective inspector. You can tell he enjoys his work.”
“Sometimes there are good days,” agreed Alfredo. “And now I also have my work to do. I will speak to you later.” He made his way out through the terrace arch towards the road, as Dave Copper seated himself once again, leaned back, and took another sip of his by now stone-cold tea.
Chapter 14
As the captain led the way past his junior officers into the large interview room, closely followed by the inspector and the sergeant, seven faces turned towards him with varying degrees of apprehension and irritation. X-Pat Connor was first on his feet with a now customarily belligerent challenge.
“Look here, Captain, I would like to know why you’ve got us all up here like this. You told me you had something you wanted to talk to Phil and me about – I presume this is all to do with the business of Juan Manuel, although you weren’t exactly forthcoming when you rang – and then when we arrive you put us in here with everybody else, without so much as a word of explanation, with your two dobermans lurking outside like a pair of prison guards. And here we sit round the walls, like people in a dentist’s waiting room, and nobody has a clue as to what you’re up to.”
“Sit down, Mr. Connor,” said Alfredo calmly but firmly. “It will all be explained to you.”
“I hope very much that it will, captain,” interposed Ewan Husami easily. “Are you proposing to put us under some kind of detention? If you are, maybe I should be giving my lawyer a ring.”
“Probably another one of his bloody cousins,” hissed Dave Copper into Andy Constable’s ear.
“As you all will know,” continued Alfredo, “I have been faced with a murder case at not a good time for me. The fiesta this weekend has caused great disruption to the police services which I can use. But by great luck, I have here Detective Inspector Constable and Detective Sergeant Copper, who had been able to help me with another matter – the death of Mr. Rookham at the television company.”
“What, the guy at CostaLot?” asked Walter Torrance. “I heard about that. But I thought that was some sort of accident. Are you telling us that these two are out here from the U.K. on some sort of investigation into… well, you tell me?”
“Not at all, Mr. Torrance,” replied Alfredo. “But it was, how shall I say, convenient if you all believed that. No, my English colleagues are in fact simply here on their holiday. And when Mr. Laborero was found dead, and it seemed to me that all the people who might be involved were British, I wondered also if I could – what is the saying? – push my luck, and ask Andy and Dave here – I hope you do not mind me calling you that – to help me. Because they know much better than I do how the British mind works. They might understand how a person might not be telling the truth when the signs were not clear for me. When I first met them, I too made the mistake to think that maybe they are here working on a case. I remember saying that I hoped that they were not here on a busman’s holiday. But now I am very grateful that for them it has become a busman’s holiday.”
“This is all very nice and cosy,” interrupted Liza Lott, “but do you intend to cut to the chase any time soon? Is all this rigmarole a lead-up to someone telling us who killed Juan?”
“Yes,” answered Alfredo simply.
“Well then, for goodness sake, drop the other shoe and get on with it,” said Tim Berman.
“Then I will ask my colleague here to take over,” said Alfredo, seating himself behind the interviewer’s desk and gesturing Andy Constable forward. The inspector took a slow look at the circle of faces around him, smiled faintly, and perched himself on the front of the desk, as Dave Copper eased himself unobtrusively into a chair next to the door.
>
Constable drew a deep breath and let out a gusty sigh. “Do you know the one thing that puzzles me in this whole business,” he mused, almost to himself. “How on earth did Juan Manuel Laborero manage to get away with it for so long? And why was he in a position of power over the fates of so many people?” In response to the disconcerted glances exchanged between those surrounding him, he continued. “The answer is, of course, that he was useful. How many times have I had that said to me? Since even before Juan was found dead, when Percy Vere was telling us the saga of his villa. But there is an inherent problem – there’s always the possibility of a bit of grit in the oyster, and that doesn’t invariably lead to a pearl. Being useful can sometimes be dangerous. If someone knows too much about you, you can feel threatened. What if a clash of interests arises? What if they decide that their interests are more important than yours?”
“But we’ve all got our own different interests,” said Roxanne Stone. “You’re not telling us anything we don’t all know already. But if everyone’s told you all the positives about Juan, why wouldn’t you believe it? I know as far as I’m concerned, my business is going to be a great deal more difficult to run without Juan around. I’m speaking for myself, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s going to have problems without him to help out. Now that’s self-interest, if you like.” She looked around the room, and was rewarded with a few murmurs and nods of agreement.
