Murdered by Nature

by Roderic Jeffries

  ‘Why d’you ask?’

  ‘You almost look cheerful.’

  ‘Life is being generous.’

  ‘To you? Must be a mistake.’

  ‘I’ll have a coñac, a café cortado, and no comments.’

  Roca activated the espresso machine, poured out a generous brandy, carried glass, cup and saucer to where Alvarez leaned. ‘You won something on the lottery?’

  ‘My superior is on holiday and so I have only myself to think about.’

  ‘Surprised you don’t look more gloomy than usual.’ Roca went along the bar to serve another customer.

  Alvarez drank some coffee, poured brandy into the cup. He finished the coffee, signalled to Roca. ‘Another coffee and this time a man-sized coñac.’

  ‘Doubt there’s a glass in the place that’ll hold that much.’

  Alvarez walked away from the bar and sat on a newly vacated window seat, stared at the people on the raised portion of the square, seated in the shade of large sun-umbrellas; the changing swirl of pedestrians; a redhead in a tight fitting blouse and very short skirt.

  Roca brought brandy and coffee to the table. ‘Who are you lusting after today?’

  ‘My emotion is pleasure, gained from watching people enjoy themselves.’

  ‘I’ll try to believe that.’

  Twenty minutes later, Alvarez returned to the post, and as he entered his room, the phone rang.

  ‘Inspector Alvarez?’

  He identified the voice immediately. ‘Yes, señorita.’

  ‘Then you are working today!’

  Ángela Torres had worked as Salas’ secretary for so many years that she reflected his manners and assumed his authority.

  ‘Why should you doubt that?’ he asked.

  ‘I have phoned several times without you replying.’

  ‘There was an incident which needed my attention. A man in the supermarket – that is, the first one to be built in the Port, which was many years ago—’

  ‘You will make your report to Comisario Borne.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You have trouble with your hearing?’

  ‘I don’t understand why I should speak to the Comisario.’

  ‘You have not yet found time to read the notice sent to all inspectors last week?’

  He looked at the medley of papers on the desk and accepted that probably amongst them was the unopened envelope. ‘Señorita, I fear I have not yet received it. The post between Palma and here is often inefficient.’

  ‘The superior chief has had reason recently to remark that perhaps it no longer exists. Comisario Borne will be acting in command until the return of Superior Chief Salas.’

  Borne had the reputation of being aggressive and enjoying a high-up relative in the Cuerpo in Madrid. His mother was reputed to have been Swiss. ‘He’ll teach this yokel how to yodel?’

  ‘It is interesting you consider that amusing.’ She replaced the receiver.

  He should have withheld the facetious comment. She would relate it to Salas on his return. Salas lacked a broad humour.

  He wondered how, only a short while before, he could have viewed the world as treating him generously. Optimism was the road to disaster.

  Dolores looked through the bead curtain which separated the kitchen from the living/dining room. ‘Lunch is not quite ready since you have returned early.’

  ‘I’ve had an exhausting morning and needed a break,’ Alvarez replied.

  ‘Only a man who believes a house looks after itself could think that exhaustion should be compensated,’ his cousin said.

  He leaned over and opened the door of the Mallorquin sideboard, brought out a bottle of Fundador and two glasses, set one glass in front of where Jaime, Dolores’ husband, would sit. He went through to the kitchen.

  ‘You want something?’ she asked.

  ‘Some ice.’

  ‘And, no doubt, would like me to get it for you?’

  He chose tact in preference to truth. ‘Not when you’re so busy.’

  ‘I am always very busy, even if there is ever a day on which I have only the beds to make, the bedrooms to tidy, the house to dust, clean, polish, the shopping to be done, and the need to cook a tasty meal, while knowing it will be eaten with little appreciation.’

  ‘With great appreciation.’

  ‘Expressed with silence.’

  He brought a tray of ice cubes out of the refrigerator and, as he emptied these into an ice bucket, reflected on the fact that women were, like the future, uneven and unknowable. She loved her family, was upset at the first suggestion any of them might be unwell, would defend them from the devil, yet often delivered unnecessary and illogical criticism.

  He picked up the ice bucket and prepared to leave.

  ‘You expect me to refill the ice tray and place it in the refrigerator?’

  Having refilled and replaced it, he returned to the dining room, dropped four ice cubes into his glass and poured a generous brandy over them.

  Jaime returned home, hurried through from the entrada. ‘I’ve had one hell of a morning!’

  There was a call from the kitchen. ‘Another man who has been grossly overworked?’

  Jaime looked at the bead curtain, then spoke to Alvarez in a low voice, necessary since, as he maintained, Dolores could hear a pin fall through the air. ‘Is she uptight over something?’

  ‘Only the usual: slaving in the house.’

  ‘Women will find something to moan about in heaven.’

  Speaking as quietly as he had, Jaime had spoken too loudly. Dolores put her head through the bead curtain. ‘That something will not be the absence of men. One of you can lay the table.’ She withdrew.

  Sounds from the entrada indicated the return of Isabel and Juan from school. They entered the dining room in a rush, carried on through to the kitchen.

  ‘There’s a school visit at the end of the month,’ Isabel said excitedly.

  ‘That should be fun,’ Dolores answered. ‘Will you come here and stir this for a while? Juan, your shorts are dirty. What have you been doing?’

  ‘They bet me I couldn’t—’ He stopped abruptly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘An inherited family failing on the paternal side. Isabel, stir more quickly, and Juan, you can prepare six teeth of garlic.’

  Isabel said, in a rush of words: ‘Rosa’s been where we’re going and says it’s wonderful. There’s everything, and the scenic railway is so frightening, she wet her pants.’

  ‘It is quite unnecessary to tell us that.’

  ‘Carolina won’t be able to go because of her mother,’ Juan said, ‘and she’s spitting bloody tacks.’

  ‘You will not use such language!’

  ‘I’ve often heard Daddy say it.’

  ‘Your father suffers from a careless tongue and when in the company of his children can find neither the desire nor the ability to curb it.’

  In the dining room, Jaime refilled his glass. ‘If there’s an earthquake, I’ll get blamed for that.’

  Alvarez was dreaming he was wandering through the Mallorquin rice fields – something he had never done, in fact – when the phone awoke him. He stared at it with dislike before hauling himself upright.

  ‘Inspector Alvarez?’

  ‘Yes, señorita.’

  ‘Superior Chief Salas wishes to speak to you.’

  ‘I think you must be wrong.’

  ‘Would you allow me to know who your caller is.’

  ‘But I understood—’

  ‘He will not wish to be kept waiting.’

  The briefest of pauses.

  ‘Alvarez?’

  ‘Yes, comisario.’

  ‘You are mistakenly yet again attempting to be humorous?’

  The speaker, as he should have realized, was Salas. ‘I’d no intention of that, señor. I thought you were Comisario Borne.’

  ‘My secretary did not inform you who would speak to you?’

  �
�I thought she must be wrong.’

  ‘You had reason to accept so unlikely an event?’

  ‘You are on holiday.’

  ‘Unlike some, when I am in my office, I do not consider myself to be on holiday. A conference on criminality has been called by the Govern Balear. Since I am to appear before the committee, it was necessary for me to return in order to prepare the facts and figures which will be needed.’

  ‘I don’t think I can be blamed for not knowing that.’

  ‘In the course of my preparation, I have considered the clear-up rates of the areas. It should not surprise you to learn that yours are the lowest.’

  There was a silence.

  Salas said sharply: ‘I am waiting for an answer.’

  ‘To what question, señor?’

  ‘What I have just said surely makes that obvious?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Then I will speak very exactly. Why does your area suffer the lowest clear-up rates?’

  ‘It’s difficult to say.’

  ‘But simple to judge why.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I very frequently have to cope with problems because of the many foreigners who live here and the very many who come on holiday. Foreigners bring trouble. The English, for some reason I do not understand, are badly affected by the sun. And having spoken to colleagues, I have learned that that is particularly true in Port Llueso where it seems love is in the air. They run off the rails and—’

  ‘Are we now discussing railways?’

  ‘I mean, they do not behave as tradition marks them.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Men often try to have a roll in the hay, and this can cause trouble with their wives.’

  ‘Hardly surprising since that is something no honest man is likely to attempt, as it would be undignified and uncomfortable.’

  ‘The hay is imaginary, señor. Sand is preferred, yet I think it is probably equally uncomfortable.’

  ‘I have yet to understand how such unwelcome, atavistic behaviour is of consequence to the matter in hand.’

  ‘Señor, you refer to my clear-up rate. If a husband has been temporarily enjoying himself with another woman, his wife sometimes expresses her annoyance physically as well as verbally and he needs medical attention. When I later question her about the incident, she will often deny everything, and her husband naturally confirms her denial. He talks about a fall. With no proof of the truth – the second woman will remain unidentified since the husband will not have bothered to learn her name – I can do nothing and there can be no clear-up. Likewise, if a wife entraps another man into adultery and the husband has cojones and finds out, he will assault the lover. Yet none of the parties will admit anything: the husband because he does not wish to be derided, and the other man also doesn’t want to be derided – as an incompetent lover. I can do nothing, and the case has to be recorded as unsolved.’

  ‘You confirm that speech introduces confusion, not clarification.’ The call ended.

  FOUR

  The next day, Alvarez mused that the experts were right, and one did not have to travel at a vast speed to discover that time could proceed quickly or slowly. Convinced twenty minutes had passed and it would be feasible to leave the office and start the weekend, Alvarez’s watch recorded there were still eight to go.

  He lit a cigarette, slumped back in the chair, stared at the unshuttered window through which was visible a wall of the building on the opposite side of the road. When he had left home that morning, Dolores had been singing, and the content of her songs was always a trustworthy guide to her mood. If a blackguard, who had declared his emotional passion for a lady, had then deserted that lady, lunch would be very ordinary. If a young man, handsome, strong, brave, who throughout his absence in far-off lands had remained faithful to the maiden to whom he had declared his love, the meal would be delicious. Filetes de salmonete en papillote? Fillets of red mullet, green peppers, chopped dill, cream, salt cooked in foil. In her hands, a dish to earn a gourmet’s praise. She might even prepare a sweet, following a custom introduced by foreigners. Púding de castanyes. A favourite of his. Chestnuts, butter, sugar, egg yolks, egg white, milk . . .

  The phone interrupted the meal.

  ‘Roberto Plá here.’

  A policía in Playa Nueva who would not be phoning at that time of the day on a Saturday unless there was some form of trouble. ‘What d’you want?’ Alvarez asked, his tone expressing his resentment.

  ‘Is life crushing your two-piece set or have you just woken up?’

  ‘A member of the Cuerpo does not sleep when on duty.’

  ‘And I believe in goblins. How’s the family?’

  It was a matter of courtesy to discuss the health of relations and mutual friends.

  Plá finally gave the reason for his call during unsocial hours. ‘One of the llaüts was out early, saw a body in the bay, reported it to the harbour master. He sent out a boat to bring it in. Male.’

  ‘Any signs of trauma?’

  ‘The doc who examined the body didn’t mention any.’

  ‘Then it’s not my problem.’

  ‘Thought you ought to know in case your superior chief asks what’s going on.’

  Plá had a point. ‘Has the doctor anything to say about why he drowned?’

  ‘He breathed water instead of air.’

  ‘I can refrain from laughing.’

  ‘The man had probably been dead for several days.’

  ‘You mean hours.’

  ‘Days. Takes time for the gases to bring a drowned man back to the surface. And you’ve only got to look at him to know he didn’t drown during an early swim this morning. Skin’s wrinkled and—’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Alvarez seldom swam; even a very brief and partial description of the results of drowning convinced him that was with good cause. ‘Anything to say who he was?’

  ‘No. Looks like he hasn’t seen much sun recently, so maybe a foreigner.’

  ‘Age?’

  ‘Mid twenties to early thirties won’t be far wrong. One last thing: the doc says death could have been due to a cause other than drowning. So that’s it. How about meeting up at a bar in the near future?’

  ‘Fine, if this trouble doesn’t keep me busy.’

  ‘It would take more than one dead man to do that.’

  Alvarez replaced the receiver, slumped back in the chair. Bad luck seemed always to strike at the most disturbing time. The unknown man had been found at the beginning of the weekend instead of after that.

  He phoned Palma. Ángela Torres asked him to identify himself as if she had not known who he was from the sound of his voice. Women never missed an opportunity to suggest they were of importance.

  ‘What is it?’ Salas demanded.

  ‘I have a report to make, señor.’

  ‘One which, no doubt, should have been made sooner.’

  ‘That would not have been possible since he has only just been found.’

  ‘Some fool walker in the Tramuntana had lost himself?’

  ‘In the bay.’

  ‘Unless he was trying to walk across it, you have succeeded in a shorter time than usual to become virtually unintelligible.’

  ‘He wasn’t found until today.’

  ‘As you have already stated. Will it trouble you to start your report in traditional style – that is, at the beginning?’

  ‘A dead man was found in the bay, near the headlands, by a fishing boat this morning.’

  ‘His identity?’

  ‘There was no ID on him.’

  ‘The cause of death is drowning?’

  ‘That is uncertain.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There was no trauma, but the examining doctor thought drowning might not be the primary cause of death.’

  ‘His grounds for that?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You did not think to ask him?’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to him. What information I have comes f
rom one of the policía in Playa Nueva.’

  ‘You saw no reason to make any further enquiries, even though you don’t know the victim’s name, nationality, where he had been staying, why he was in the bay?’

  ‘Some answers can’t be known until the post-mortem.’

  ‘The time of which you do not know?’

  ‘I imagine it will be tomorrow morning.’

  ‘You will inform me when the time has been fixed and your imagination is unnecessary. In the meantime, you will identify the dead man.’

  ‘That’s likely to be difficult.’

  ‘Do not allow the difficulty to prevent you making enquiries at hotels, aparthotels, and tourist holiday villas to find out if anyone is missing.’

  Jaime finished his second brandy, put the glass down on the table. ‘I had to work flat out all morning and then got a rollicking from the manager because I took a moment or two off for a coffee. He’d let a man work himself to death.’

  ‘You think you’re hard done by?’Alvarez asked challengingly. ‘I’m going to have to go back to work before lunch, then work all afternoon and evening, and it’s Saturday!’

  There was a call from the kitchen. ‘Even though I may be kept busy from early morning until late at night, every day of the week, I offer both of you my sympathy.’

  Jaime drank. He spoke in a very low voice. ‘To listen to her, you’d think running a home is proper work instead of having a sit down and a coffee every half hour. She wouldn’t go on like she does if it wasn’t for all that women’s lib nonsense.’

  ‘And what do they think they have to liberate themselves from?’

  Jaime sniggered. ‘Their brassieres. I’m not objecting to that.’

  Alvarez parked his car on a solid yellow line, walked into Sol y Playa aparthotel which was considerably further from the beach than the name suggested. He crossed to the office in which two young women worked. They regarded him with little interest.

  ‘You want something?’ the younger, peroxide blonde asked.

  ‘Cuerpo,’ he answered.

  They were surprised, but not concerned, and their manner remained offhand. Years before, their predecessors would have been attentive and eager to assist. Democracy denigrated the forces of authority. ‘I need to know if one of your guests appears to have gone missing.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’