The Ambiguity of Murder

by Roderic Jeffries

  ‘I had a very stressful morning.’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t have drunk so much at lunch. Alcohol is the worst possible thing for stress.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous!’

  ‘You are an expert in medical matters; the doctor on television knows nothing?’

  ‘Doctors, especially on the telly, get bees in their bonnets…’

  ‘Better than worms in their brains. The chocolate’s on the stove. It may have become lumpy because you’ve taken so long to come down.’ She looked up. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be back at the post by four-thirty?’

  ‘The hours are not fixed exactly.’

  ‘Not by you, that’s for certain.’ She looked back at the book. ‘There’s some coca in the cupboard if you left any yesterday.’

  ‘But that’ll be stale…’

  She jerked her head up. ‘So! I am expected to go out every day, no matter how exhausted, to buy fresh coca for my cousin so that when he can find the energy to come downstairs, it is waiting for him?’

  ‘I thought you made it…’

  ‘In the heat of the summer, when men find it impossible to do anything but eat, drink, and sleep, I should not only slave all day preparing two full meals, I should also exhaust myself beyond recovery to make you coca because you have too delicate a palate for any that is not fresh?’

  He crossed to a cupboard and brought out the triangle of coca on a plate. When in her present mood, it was no good pointing out how illogical and selfish she was being. He put a mug on the table, lifted the saucepan off the stove and filled the mug with hot chocolate. Of course, basically Jaime was at fault. A husband should at the beginning of a marriage make it clear who was boss in the house.

  He ate and drank.

  ‘We have not had Pilotes amb safrà for a long time.’ she said suddenly. She shut the book with a snap.

  He cheered up. ‘You’re going to cook that?’

  ‘Why should I bother when it would be eaten with careless indifference?’

  ‘Each mouthful will be sweeter than a maiden’s kiss because you are the finest cook on the island.’

  ‘Because I am fool enough to spend my life in slavery.’ But her tone had changed. What he had said was true. ‘I am going shopping. So be certain to lock up.’ She picked up her purse and left.

  He began to eat the coca. Meatballs could be just an apology for food, yet when Dolores wove her magic over the ground pork, beef, ham, bacon, eggs, onions, garlic, breadcrumbs, lard, lemon juice, parsley, nutmeg, saffron, pepper and salt, they became a Lucullan feast … She was at times irrational, illogical, and very unreasonable, but in all fairness one had to make allowances for the fact that she was a woman. And truly a wonderful cook.

  * * *

  Alvarez had never fully understood the expression ‘blue-rinse lady’ until he faced Dolly Selby.

  ‘It is an impertinence,’ she said.

  She undoubtedly regarded almost everything as an impertinence, he thought gloomily. Judging by the attempts to camouflage her age, she was probably well past her allotted span and into extra time; her hair was not blue-rinsed, but neither was it naturally coloured and, since she’d left him to stand, he could make out where it was thinning; her nose was beaky, her lips full and moist, but the only passion they suggested was greed; she wore a finca and many good hectares of rich land on her fingers and a manorial house on her over-generous bosom.

  A young woman, dressed in a neat, striped maid’s frock, came across the lawn of gama grass to where Dolly sat in the shade of an ancient evergreen oak. ‘Señora, a telephone,’ she said in fractured English.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Someone speaks…’

  ‘I think there is a telephone call for you, señora,’ Alvarez said.

  ‘Thank you, but I am quite capable of understanding … Where’s the cordless phone, you stupid girl? Why didn’t you bring it with you?’

  The maid looked confused.

  ‘The cordless phone,’ she said loudly and held her clenched fist up to her ear.

  The maid hurried into the house.

  ‘The brains of a rabbit,’ Dolly said.

  Better than the manners of a bitch. ‘Señora, I need to ask you…’

  ‘Wait.’

  He sat on the second chair, an action which clearly annoyed her. The maid returned, handed Dolly a cordless phone, left. Dolly languidly and at length discussed the incompetence of the local workmen and the stupidity of all staff.

  She finally said goodbye, switched off the phone, put it down on the table to her right.

  ‘Señora, I should like to ask you about the party you gave a week ago, yesterday.’

  ‘It is an impertinence to concern yourself in my affairs.’

  ‘Señor Zavala drowned in his swimming pool…’

  ‘Do you wish to suggest I am in any way concerned with that fact?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then there is nothing more to be said.’

  ‘I wish to ask you questions concerning Señor Zavala.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I understand you were a friend of his.’

  ‘Even in these dreadful socialist times when we are not supposed to say what we think, we are still left at liberty to choose our friends. He was an acquaintance.’

  ‘You did not like him?’

  ‘He was not a gentleman. Of course, that’s not surprising since he was an Argentinian.’

  ‘Actually, señora, he was a Bolivian.’

  ‘There’s no difference.’

  ‘There is to a Bolivian or an Argentinian.’

  ‘You seem intent on being insolent.’

  ‘Señora, would you like to be thought Italian?’

  ‘No one could seriously make such a suggestion.’

  ‘That is true.’

  She stared angrily at him, but his battered face held such a woebegone expression that she decided it was absurd to believe he had the intelligence to have been inferring anything.

  ‘Señora, is it correct that during the course of your party, you introduced Señor Zavala to Señor and Señora Bailey?’

  ‘Quite possibly.’

  ‘You cannot be certain?’

  ‘I see no reason to be.’

  ‘It could be important.’

  She sighed heavily and her bosom surged. ‘Yes, I introduced them.’

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘What an extraordinary question! Do you people have no idea of social manners?’

  ‘Indeed, señora, but in many cases they are different from yours.’

  ‘Unfortunately! It is the duty of a hostess to make certain that all her guests meet.’

  ‘And the Baileys did not know Señor Zavala before you introduced them?’

  ‘Do try to use a little common sense. Would I have needed to introduce them if they knew each other?’

  ‘Do you think Señor Zavala had any idea who they were before you introduced them?’

  ‘Really, this is like trying to explain something to a five-year-old. If they had never met, how could Guido know who they were?’

  ‘It is possible to know who someone is before one meets that person.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Did the Baileys later speak to you about Señor Zavala?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Did they ask you where he lived, how long he’d been on the island – that sort of thing?’

  ‘You can’t be expected to realize this, but it is bad manners to ask personal questions and the Baileys do have manners. Only…’

  ‘Yes, señora?’

  ‘It has to be admitted that they did behave rather strangely.’

  ‘You are now saying that they did ask many questions about Señor Zavala?’

  ‘You seem incapable of understanding anything. I was not referring to that, but to the fact that very soon after I’d introduced them to Guido, they left, before the party was half over and without thanking me for inviting them. Hardly
the behaviour expected if they really are the right kind of people, as they try to make out.’

  ‘Perhaps one of them suddenly felt ill?’

  ‘Hardly an adequate excuse.’

  ‘Did they later explain to you why they had left so suddenly?’

  ‘They did not.’

  ‘Did Señor Zavala later make any comment about them to you?’

  ‘No. Though he had the manners to thank me for having invited him. A bit too flowery with his thanks, of course, but one can’t expect too much when one invites him into one’s circle.’

  He stood, said goodbye, and was amused when her only response was a curt nod of the head.

  As Alvarez drove up the main road from the port to the village, he wondered whether the explanation for the Baileys’ behaviour was, in fact, that one of them had become ill? But then wouldn’t the other have mentioned the fact, however briefly? Had it been their meeting with Zavala which had so disturbed them? Yet how could a brief meeting between strangers have such consequences?

  There was something here that might be important, but he was damned if he could begin to work out what it might be.

  * * *

  The Laboratory of Forensic Sciences phoned at twenty past seven.

  ‘We’ve been working in conjunction with the Institute and can now say that the fingerprints on the glass and bottle are all Zavala’s; likewise, the hairs are from his head. While some hairs have been broken off, many have been pulled out by their roots. The blood on the patio chair was his.’

  ‘Would it require much force to have pulled the hairs out?’

  ‘Singly, no; all together, a reasonable amount.’

  ‘Is there any way of judging which happened?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Suppose he’d fallen into the pool and someone was holding his head under with a scoop until he drowned, would you expect a mixture of broken hairs and hairs torn out by the roots?’

  ‘If he was fully conscious and struggling, almost certainly; if unconscious, or even badly dazed, it would be a question of how much force had to be used to keep his head under.’

  ‘If he was conscious and someone was using the scoop not to force his head under, but to keep it raised, or he was unconscious and that someone was trying to keep his nose above the water, but eventually failed, one would expect the would-be rescuer to try to have called for help.’

  ‘Logical.’

  ‘Can you suggest any other way those hairs could have reached the skimming net, apart from the obvious one that they fell out naturally?’

  ‘With their roots? And nine times out of ten, when a person has finished scooping the surface of a pool, he shakes out the net.’

  ‘Would that dislodge them all?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Find out by testing with your own hairs. But remember, you’ll need to carry out a large number of tests in order to gain a statistical probability. Are you prepared to go bald in the pursuit of justice?’

  People who worked in the laboratory had almost as poor a sense of humour as those in the Institute. Not conscious of what he was doing, Alvarez fingered the hairs on the crown of his head to convince himself that he was not, as Juan had so rudely suggested a few days before, becoming bald.

  CHAPTER 15

  ‘That is all you’ve been able to learn?’ Salas asked sharply over the phone.

  ‘Unfortunately, señor, much of the evidence is rather ambiguous…’

  ‘Do you know the definition of ambiguity? A sophist’s excuse.’

  Alvarez doggedly continued. ‘However, it does seem more likely that Zavala was murdered than drowned accidentally. There is the blow to his throat, the hairs in the skimming net…’

  ‘There is no need to repeat yourself yet again.’

  ‘This means someone had the motive to murder him. I have identified one person with a motive – Santiago Pons, whose business is under severe financial threat because Zavala refused to pay him what was due; one person who may well have a motive – Señor Robertson, whose wife was having an affair with Zavala and she has admitted that her husband is very jealous and given to anger; and one person who does not appear to have a motive, yet who is identified with Zavala through the evidence and therefore probably does have one even if this has not yet been established…’

  ‘To be illogical is to be lazy. You tell me, if there has been murder, there was motive. I will not disagree with that, although it is fact that there are occasionally motiveless murders. You name one man with a certain motive, another with a probable one which necessitates Señor Robertson being aware of his wife’s infidelity … It really is quite extraordinary how so many cases with which you are connected become coated with immorality.’

  ‘They concern foreigners.’

  ‘I wish I could be convinced that that is the reason.’

  ‘I only uncover what is already there…’

  ‘Kindly stick to matters which are pertinent.’

  ‘Yes, señor. It is true that until we can prove Señor Robertson knew of his wife’s affair, we cannot say for certain he had a motive for the murder, but he must have accepted the probability that she would betray him…’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘There is such a difference in their ages.’

  ‘You cannot accept that that is of no consequence when couples – even foreign couples – trust each other?’

  ‘Human nature being what it is…’

  ‘I am happy to believe human nature to be on a far higher plane than you so clearly place it. A pure mind sees light where the impure mind sees shadow. You should try to remember that.’

  ‘Yes, señor. Only isn’t it our job to uncover the shadows beneath the light?’

  ‘Finish your report without all these ridiculous diversions.’

  ‘If suspicious because of jealousy, it’s very possible he wondered about his wife’s frequent car trips with Señor Lockhart…’

  ‘I suppose you are now going to suggest that she’s also been having an affair with him?’

  ‘Most unlikely.’

  ‘Why, when you are so ready to assume an affair with Zavala?’

  ‘Señor Lockhart is … She will not have attracted him, if you understand?’

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘From observing him, I would judge him to be one of them.’

  ‘One of whom?’

  ‘Not sexually interested in women.’

  ‘My God, man, your mind’s a sewer! Have you ever been examined by a psychiatrist?’

  ‘No, señor.’

  ‘I suggest you do so as soon as possible before it becomes impossible to effect any improvement. Now, kindly make a proper report.’

  ‘As I’ve mentioned, on the face of things, Señor Bailey has no motive. But the car that was seen leaving Son Fuyell within a few hours of the estimated time of death has been identified as a new model Astra shooting brake, dark-coloured, and he owns one. Admittedly, we cannot unreservedly accept that identification, not only because it was dark – although there was a full, or nearly full, moon – but because of the circumstances.’

  ‘What circumstances?’

  ‘Ferriol and Inés had parked in the clump of trees near the entrance to the estate and then put a blanket down on the ground just outside the trees and … Well, at such times, obviously one is not very concerned about anything else and so not keenly or accurately observant.’

  ‘You are talking in riddles. Kindly explain in simple terms why Ferriol’s description of the car should be treated with such caution.’

  ‘The two of them were screwing…’

  ‘Enough! I will not have you fuelling your perverted pleasure with gutter language.’

  ‘Would you prefer me to say, fornicating?’

  ‘If you find it absolutely necessary to refer to the subject in the first place.’

  ‘I’m sure it has to be held in mind.’

  ‘Not in my mind.’

  ‘When a couple are fornicating, their attention
is focused entirely on themselves; this certainly holds good before and during and then for quite some time after they…’

  ‘Kindly remember I do not share your delight in revelling in such details.’

  ‘What it adds up to is this: I suggest one has to regard the identification of the car as probably good, but just possibly mistaken. Of the three men, Señor Bailey has a new model Astra shooting brake, green-coloured. A fact which gains significance when there is a connection between him and Señor Zavala.’

  ‘What is the connection?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘How very typical!’

  ‘There is good reason for believing that up until a cocktail party at midday on the Tuesday, the two men had never met. At the party they were introduced and for probably no more than ten minutes they spoke together. Then Señor Bailey and his wife left, so abruptly that they did not thank their hostess; I understand that this is a custom the English always observe, so their failure to do so surely must have significance. But is it feasible that after meeting someone for the first time, he can say something so immediately dramatic, traumatic, distressing…’

  ‘This is not a theatrical conversation.’

  ‘It may seem impossible that so brief a conversation with a stranger could seed a murder, but the one did follow the other. I don’t believe that can have been pure coincidence. I have the feeling that this meeting and its aftermath are the key to events, even if at the moment such a proposition appears to fly in the face of logic.’

  ‘A flight you are seldom reluctant to make.’

  ‘In my opinion, we should look into the past lives of the two men as far as that proves possible.’

  ‘Because in the past lies the motive for Zavala’s murder? Have you forgotten that there is as yet no certainty he was murdered?’

  ‘Yet if we find Señor Bailey had a strong motive, then we can be reasonably certain he was.’

  ‘You assume that if there was a strong motive, there was murder; Bailey appears to have no motive, so you presume murder in order to hold he must, in fact, have had one.’

  ‘It may seem a little strange…’

  ‘It does.’

  ‘But it surely has to be worth discovering if there was some previous connection between the two men? So I think I should…’