by P J Skinner
After wandering around opening drawers and poking about in her stuff, he decided to visit her sister Hannah hoping she might offer sympathy and a plan to get Sam to come back. Hannah lived two streets away in a flat on the ground floor of a similar house. She opened the door abruptly when he knocked and seemed to be about to say something until she realised who it was.
‘Simon? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?’
She went bright red with embarrassment and confusion. Her uncanny resemblance to Sam struck him dumb. Hannah had the same light brown hair but wore it longer, and it fell on her shoulders in soft curls so different Sam’s curtain of ruler straight locks. She had a similar face and body to her sibling but they, too, had softer edges which camouflaged the harder edge to her character. He felt out of his depth.
‘Um, are you busy? I wanted to talk about Sam.’
‘Jesus, do you think I’m your agony aunt? I’ve got my own problems right now. I don’t see what this has to do with me.’
‘Please, I want your advice. No one knows her the way you do.’
‘I can’t talk now. Come back another time.’
‘But I can come back?’
‘If you must. Now go away.’
CHAPTER VI
Calderon, July 1988
Alfredo was eating breakfast when he heard the news. He had finished his second cup of coffee and was contemplating a third, when the telephone rang.
‘Alfredo, is that you?’
Gloria’s voice. Upset.
‘Yes, it’s me sugar plum, is anything the matter? You sound strange.’
‘I have terrible news for you.’
‘Are you ill? Do you want me to come over?’
‘No, sweetheart, I’m fine. It’s Ramon.’
‘Ramon? I saw him yesterday. He was in fine form.’
‘His sister rang me to tell me there was a fire at his house last night, and he is missing, presumed dead.’
‘A fire? This can’t be a coincidence.’
‘Why? It’s a horrible thing to happen, but it doesn’t have anything to do with your visit.’
‘I’ll explain later. We must find out how it happened. Can you drive me to his house please?’
‘I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.’
Alfredo hung up the phone and sat on a chair, his head in his hands. He had palpitations and felt ill with dread. This was not an accident. Was it related to his visit? Had he caused the death of his friend? It didn’t bear thinking about.
By the time Gloria pulled up to the house, Alfredo was already outside pacing the pavement in the bright sunlight, his eyes screwed up in concentration. He got into the car without greeting her.
‘Seatbelt.’ Alfredo tugged at his and then gave up. She didn’t insist. ‘He may be alive. It could be a mistake,’ said Gloria
‘Maybe.’
Conversation dried up and Gloria drove with more caution than usual in case there were any fire engines coming back up the winding road. By the time they pulled up to the little farmhouse, it had burnt to the ground and all that remained were the blackened stone walls and some stumps of hardwood furniture. There were piles of smouldering books with wet leather covers on the gravel outside the front door. The firemen were still watering the remains of the structure, and the police were searching the ruins in a way that suggested they did not expect to find anything. Gloria and Alfredo got out of the car and approached them.
‘Who’s in charge here?’ said Gloria.
‘Me,’ said one.
‘What happened?’
‘Well, madam, the house burned down.’ He smirked.
‘I’ll thank you to have more respect officer. I am Gloria Sanchez, daughter of Hernan, and the house belonged to a friend of mine.’
‘Sorry, madam. I didn’t recognise you. I apologise.’
‘What can you tell me about the fire?’
‘It looks like arson. We found petrol cans at the back of the house that were missing their tops. Someone set fire to the woodpile against the back wall and it spread to the roof. The amount of paper in the house didn’t help much. It was an inferno.’
‘And Mr Vega?’
‘We found two corpses in the house. One in the maid’s bedroom and one in the principal bedroom, both still in bed. They must have suffocated in their sleep.’
‘Are you confident it’s the owner of the house?’
‘We can’t be sure yet. The body was burnt to a cinder.’
‘How can I get the latest information on the case?’
‘My name is Inspector Torres. I work in the police station on the road to the valley. Here is my card, or drop in any time and I’ll fill you in.’
‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’
She turned to offer words of encouragement to Alfredo but he had gone back to the car where he sat motionless in the front seat staring at the remains of the house.
‘These people are maniacs,’ he remarked as she got in.
‘I’m so sorry. You were friends a long time.’
‘Take me home, please.’
***
Alfredo sat in his armchair and picked at the stitching in one arm where it was coming undone. With his other hand, he swirled the ice cube around in his glass. Some cold whisky splashed on his hand, waking him from his reverie. He was afraid. The state television channels had reported the inferno as an accident, but Inspector Torres had said it was arson. The death of Ramon was no coincidence. Had anyone been watching the house when he visited his friend? Did they realise he had the document? Was he next? He tried to be rational. He didn’t believe someone would kill to stop the information about the Nazi unit in Sierramar from getting out. But what if they would? He didn’t need to finish reading it to understand how incendiary its contents were. He would hide the document somewhere no one would dare look for it and he knew just the place. He put on his coat and hurried down the street, looking over his shoulder all the time.
He entered a local shop and asked the owner if he could use the photocopier. He made himself a copy of the whole document so that Saul could read it when he arrived in Calderon. It took almost an hour but he didn’t worry about being disturbed because the shopkeeper was kept busy by a constant stream of customers buying cigarettes and cans of cola. He returned to his house and collected his car. He stuffed the original document into his waistcoat and put the copy into the pocket at the back of the driver’s seat amongst a load of old maps and leaflets, reasoning that no one would search there as it was too obvious. Then he drove to Gloria’s apartment building.
Gloria opened the door and smiled.
‘Hallo, I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening. Are you okay? I know how fond you were of Ramon. This must be a nasty shock.’
‘Still stunned, to tell you the truth. I suppose it hasn’t sunk in yet.’
‘So how can I help?’
‘I need a favour.’
‘Come in and sit down, honey. I’ll help if I can.’
Alfredo followed her down the corridor to the sitting room and sat stiffly on the edge of the seat of an armchair as if he might suddenly leave again. Gloria sat on the arm of the same chair and ran her fingers through his hair.
‘What’s up?’ she asked
‘I’m worried that the fire may be related to my calling in on Ramon yesterday.’
‘I thought it was odd you visited him. You told me ages ago that you two weren’t talking.’
‘We weren’t, but when I searched the National Archive for information, I discovered that Ramon had borrowed literature related to the arrival of Germans in Sierramar. I couldn’t believe it, but it was the only lead I had, so I decided I’d better swallow my pride and visit him. I went to his house and apologised for being an idiot. Luckily, he forgave me.’
‘That was brave. He’s a hot-head. I’m surprised he didn’t punch your lights out.’
‘We’ve been friends for ever. I gu
ess he missed me. Anyway, it turns out he has been writing a detailed report about the relationship between the Nazis and the Sierramar government.’
‘Now that is a coincidence!’
‘He had planned to take his report to Miami to publish before someone could stop him. He was worried that someone was watching him and might steal the report, so I took it for safekeeping. He was going to collect it from me on his way to Miami.’
‘You have it now? Isn’t that dangerous?’
‘Yes, I’ve still got it. There are people in Calderon who want to destroy any evidence of the collaboration with Nazi Germany.’
‘So how can I help?’
‘I think he was killed for the report. I need to hide the research before anyone realises that I have it.’
‘Jesus, Alfredo! That’s all I need. I can’t hide it here. It’s the first place that people will think of.’
‘Oh no, I don’t want you to hide it in your flat. I thought you might put it in your father’s house. No one would think of looking there.’
‘My father’s house? Are you mad?’
Her father’s involvement with the fugitives should remain a secret. It was not for Alfredo to tell her something so personal. Hernan Sanchez would have to do it when the story came out, which was the inevitable result. So, he was economical with the truth.
‘It’s not as mad as it sounds. He’s friends with many of these collaborators. They’d never suspect him of harbouring the document, and he won’t be aware he has it. Hide it in his house without telling him.’
Gloria walked over to the sideboard and poured herself a large whisky. She had her back to him and he waited for her to turn around.
‘Want one?’
‘Yes, please.’
She poured another whisky, putting the cubes of ice in his glass one by one. He felt like the world had gone into slow motion. ‘So where is the document?’
‘I thought you’d never ask. I’ve kept a copy to study but the original is here in my waistcoat.’
‘Hmm.’ She fixed him with a stare and raised her eyebrow in a way that made him instantly erect. ‘Maybe I’d better remove it then?’
‘Be careful. I’m armed and dangerous.’
‘Oh, I hope so. You’ll pay for this.’
***
Gloria’s father was thrilled when she announced that she was inviting herself to lunch the next day. Hernan Sanchez did not see enough of his daughter and often wished she would move back in with him. This would cause massive arguments about her social life and his opinions about the company she was keeping so it was unlikely to happen soon. He hoped that she would calm down enough for them to get on better but he was a realist and accepted she wasn’t ready yet.
‘Hello, Papi, it’s me.’
Gloria breezed in trailing cigarette smoke and gave her father a big hug.
‘Hello, darling. You look lovely as always.’
‘Thank you. So do you.’
Ritual greeting over, they both sat at the dining table while Hernan’s maid served them a bowl of soup. They ate in silence. Gloria wondered how to hide the document without her father spotting her.
‘I’ve got to go to the bathroom, Papi. I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘Okay, sweetheart, I’ll get Rosa to serve the main course.’
Instead of heading for the guest bathroom, Gloria flounced off towards the ensuite bathroom taking her bag with her. Her high heels clattered into the bathroom and out of the other side into his bedroom.
The chest of drawers that belonged to her mother was still on her side of the bed. Her father almost never opened it unless he was being nostalgic and trying to sniff the clothes for a residual smell of his wife. She opened one of the heavy drawers which slid smoothly out revealing her mother’s expensive undergarments still waiting for their long dead owner to put on again. She moved the clothes aside, took the document out of her bag and slipped it between the silken folds of an ivory petticoat, taking care to disguise its shape by putting a chemise on top. Admiring her handiwork, she stepped back feeling quite emotional. ‘Gracias, Mami,’ she said and re-joined her father at lunch. She had a habit of wearing her mother’s jewellery and then returning it to the box that her father was familiar with so he wouldn’t think anything of her going into his room. Besides, she never took it for good in case her mother turned up one day and needed it. He loved her for that, amongst other things.
‘Okay, darling? Let’s eat then.’
***
‘It’s done. The house burnt to the ground.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘I watched while it burned and no one came out. The police found two bodies, one in the maid’s room, one in the main bedroom.’
‘But did they identify him yet?’
‘They won’t tell me, but who else would it be?’
‘You’ve done well. I need you to confirm that Dr Vargas hasn’t got a copy of the report.’
‘Okay. I’ll check the house next time he leaves.’
‘Be careful. Don’t let anyone notice you.’
CHAPTER VII
Calderon September 1988
Calderon was free of traffic so they made good time to Gloria’s flat, stopping on the way to buy fresh bread at the baker’s. Gloria screeched to a halt in the basement garage and jumped out of the car. Sam, thanking the fates she had survived another hair-raising trip in the Gloria-mobil, dragged her bags out of the boot and they took one each to the elevator, straining to lift them off the ground.
‘Did you bring your furniture with you?’ asked Gloria.
‘No, but I brought jars of mint jelly and chutney for anyone who carries my bag.’
‘Suitcases should have wheels.’
‘Someone might invent one. Let’s have a cup of tea and you can tell me about Alfredo.’
Soon they were sitting in the kitchen sipping cups of scalding hot tea.
‘How have you been?’ asked Sam, ‘and your father?’
‘Oh, we’re both fine. Trying to get along as usual. And you?’
‘Same here. We’re well. No dramas.’
‘That’s good. How about Simon?’
‘I’m more interested in Alfredo. Have you found out what happened yet? How long has he been missing?’
‘Two weeks or more. I’m worried about him,’ said Gloria.
‘Has he been drinking?’
‘No more than usual and less than before. I’m convinced his disappearance relates to something a lot more sinister than drink.’
‘You’d better start at the beginning.’
‘Well, it started when a journalist from New York rang Alfredo and asked him if he could research Nazi fugitives in Sierramar.’
‘Nazi’s in Sierramar? Didn’t they go to Argentina or Brazil or something?’
‘That’s what we thought but Alfredo discovered that there may be a group of them here in Calderon. There was no information in the National Archive but he found evidence that his friend Ramon had been researching the same thing. So, he went to Ramon’s house and it turned out that Ramon was finishing a report which showed that the national government were complicit in welcoming the fugitive officers to Sierramar and helping them start new lives. Ramon had planned to go to Miami to publish his research but his house burned down that night, and he died in the fire.’
‘Oh my God, that’s awful. Was all the research lost?’
‘No, luckily, he had lent the report to Alfredo to photocopy.’
‘Was the fire deliberate?’
‘The police say it was arson but they haven’t found the culprits. Alfredo was nervous because he thought someone had seen him visiting Ramon.’
‘Why did he think that?’
‘Someone tried to burgle his house not long afterwards while Alfredo was picking Saul, that’s the journalist, up from the airport.’
‘Did the burglar get the report?’
‘No, luckily Alf
redo didn’t leave it in the house.’
‘Where is it now?’
‘It’s hidden in my father’s house. I put it in a drawer under some of my mother’s clothing when he wasn’t looking. It is safer that way.’
‘When did you last see Alfredo?’
‘He left with Saul to look for the fugitives in the mountains over two weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him since.’
‘Have you been to the police?’
‘Sam, don’t be so English! That’s the last place I’d go.’
‘Don’t exaggerate. They’re not that bad. Where were Alfredo and Saul going?’
‘That’s the problem. I’ve no idea. They left suddenly, and I didn’t get a chance to ask him. He left a message with my maid saying he’d be back in a few days but I haven’t heard from him since. We will have to start from scratch.’
‘What do we know so far?’
‘Well, they were looking for German men who came to Sierramar after the end of World War II. Those men must be over sixty-five years old if they came here about forty-five years ago.’
‘How did they get here?’
‘There were no flights in those days so they came in by boat to Guayama and then travelled to Calderon along the old road.’
‘Don’t all foreigners have to register with the migration office when they arrive in Sierramar? I did. Perhaps they had to do that then also?’
‘That’s not a bad idea. There might be a record of their arrival in the archives. If we discover who came here, we can use their names to locate them. Someone in migration might check the records for us. I think my father has a contact who works there. I will ask him.’
‘Okay but tell him I am looking for a relative or something. We don’t want him getting suspicious.’
***
Sam woke up with a start during the night. She glanced in alarm at her surroundings struggling to work out where she was and what was going on. The Viteri painting with its multicoloured balloons told her she was in Gloria’s flat. The glass in the windows was rattling and her bed was trying to throw her off. She realised that it was a tremor. They were part of life in Calderon, which sat on the slopes of a volcano that periodically came to life and dusted the city with several inches of volcanic ash, but she had never experienced one before. Unsure if it was terrifying or fascinating, she sat up in bed and watched the lampshade swinging from the flex on the ceiling. She felt as if she were inside a Christmas present being rattled by a diffident child. Gloria appeared at the door to her bedroom.
