Murdered by Nature

by Roderic Jeffries

  On Thursday, the sky was heavily overcast, the rain was light but steady, the wind was cool. Tourists were reminded that only in travel posters was the sun always shining.

  Alvarez had to park well away from the post. He walked through the damp streets, dully answered the duty guard’s welcome, went up to his office and sat behind the desk. The phone rang. Salas asking him why he had ignored yet another nonsensical bureaucratic rule? The bank manager suggesting he might like to have a word about his overdraft? Dolores telling him she was lunching with a friend and he could prepare his own meal? He lifted the receiver.

  ‘Roberto here, Enrique. Thought you’d want to know they’ve brought in four more bodies from the bay.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Naked, so no ID again.’

  ‘What the hell’s going on? This’ll make life impossible.’

  ‘One man lost his arm, hacked off; the only woman is headless. The doc says they’ve been floating around for six months or more.’

  Common sense replaced Alvarez’s panic. ‘You bastard!’

  Plá laughed.

  ‘I’ve a good mind to arrest you for wasting the police’s time.’

  ‘Can’t waste something of no value.’

  Alvarez replaced the receiver. Plá’s sense of humour was juvenile. The phone rang again. He picked up the receiver. ‘I know. A shipload of elephants are swimming in the bay.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, Inspector Alvarez,’ Ángela Torres said, her tone expressing contempt.

  ‘I thought . . . that you . . . Well, because he had just . . .’

  ‘One moment.’

  ‘Are you in the transport business?’ Salas asked.

  ‘No, señor.’

  ‘Then why are you expecting a shipload of elephants?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You frequently expect what you are not expecting?’

  ‘I thought Señorita Torres was a friend.’

  ‘Is he expecting elephants?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have such animals had a major influence in your past life?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I may have previously mentioned I have a friend who is an internationally recognized psychologist. Since I first described you to him, he has taken considerable interest in your career. Your behaviour regarding elephants may well be of value to him.’

  ‘I can explain, señor.’

  ‘Do so to him. I find no benefit in trying to comprehend the incomprehensible.’

  ‘But can one comprehend the incomprehensible?’

  ‘You are well advised not to consider matters which are beyond you. Have you spoken to the forensic laboratory regarding the dead man?’

  ‘They can’t tell us anything yet.’

  ‘Inform me when they can, and do so without reference to elephants.’

  Alvarez replaced the receiver. A moment later, it rang. He was about to be forbidden to mention tigers?

  ‘Enrique? I—’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Rafael Nadal inviting you to a game of tennis.’

  ‘You’ve just landed me in a load of trouble.’

  ‘You have been out of it?’

  ‘Thanks to you, I told the superior chief I was expecting a shipload of elephants.’

  ‘From you, he shouldn’t have found that odd. I’ve had a chat with a neat little number, blonde, cunningly upholstered . . .’

  ‘Not interested.’

  ‘Then I won’t bother. After all, she was only saying she may know who the missing man could be.’

  ‘Why, who, when?’

  ‘You’re not interested.’

  ‘Do you want Traffic to accuse you of dangerous driving and take your car for crushing?’

  ‘You bring a new meaning to friendship.’

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Works for Nirvana Holidays, an English company which does downmarket package holidays for people wanting to stay in a villa. In the middle of September, a man on his own – Colin Kerr – arrived for a month’s stay in one of the cheapest villas.’

  ‘Unusual, renting a villa for that long when on his own.’

  ‘Reckoned to find company here. And he said he’d come to meet friends. About halfway through the tenancy, Anna read in Ultima Hora that the dead man from the bay had a semicircular scar on his neck. This reminded her of Colin Kerr, who seemed to have temporarily absented his letting. She wondered if he could be the dead man.’

  ‘Friends would have reported him missing.’

  ‘I didn’t like to contradict her, just thanked her very much for getting in touch and said it was not everyone who’d have bothered.’

  ‘If you were polite, you were trying your hand, even though you were on duty.’

  ‘Can’t expect you to appreciate courtesy.’

  They said goodbye. Should he report to Salas? Alvarez asked himself. On the one hand, it would show how sharply on the ball he was; on the other, since Kerr might well be staying with friends and saw no reason to acquaint the company’s office of the fact, Salas would want to know whether he had spoken to the friends and then would demand he worked twenty-five hours a day until he identified them.

  He looked at his watch. Not long before he could reasonably return home. Better to wait and consider what he had learned than rush down to the port to question the woman.

  Would a man book a month’s stay in a villa when he might be unlucky and have to spend the whole time on his own? He would not do his own cooking and to eat out for every meal would be expensive, yet his choice of a downmarket villa suggested his funds were low. Yet good friends would surely have alerted the authorities had their guest gone missing.

  Anna might be able to provide some answers. How had Rafael described her? A neat little number.

  SIX

  Ángela Torres rang at a quarter past nine the next morning as Alvarez entered his office and congratulated himself on his nearly-on-time arrival.

  ‘I have been asked by the superior chief to question whether your examination of airline passengers’ lists from the island have revealed any discrepancies.’

  The question momentarily perplexed him.

  ‘Did any passenger not take a flight for which he was booked?’

  ‘I have found no such absence, señorita.’

  She did not say goodbye, but her manners were fashioned by Salas.

  Alvarez drummed on the desk with his fingers. He had spoken the truth. He had discovered no such discrepancy since he had not thought to do so. He stopped drumming, stood. In view of her question, Salas might soon be phoning, and it would be in his interest to spend at least part of the morning away from the office.

  The office of Nirvana Holidays was in a road which ran down to the bay. Since its main aim was to assist clients when it was unavoidable, the furnishing was of a plebeian nature. Anna sat behind a right-angled working surface on which were phone, computer, printer and company brochures. Plá had been grudging in his description of her. She had a face and form to launch any number of ships.

  ‘You want something?’ she asked in rough Mallorquin, identifying him as a local from his dress and manner.

  ‘I’d like to ask you one or two things.’

  ‘I’m busy,’ she said in Castilian, making it clear that even if she were not busy, she would not welcome his company. Age – not that he was near becoming aged – gained far less respect, along with authority, than it once had.

  ‘Inspector Alvarez, Cuerpo General de Policía.’

  She regarded him more closely. ‘Surprising.’

  An implied criticism?

  ‘I suppose you’re here because of Señor Kerr. You’re wasting your time since I told the other bloke all I know.’

  ‘He was Policía.’

  ‘What’s that matter?’

  About to explain, he noted her mocking amusement. Perhaps she thought she knew where his thoughts had wandered. Even a hatchet-faced harridan could imagine a man looked at her with desire. ‘You in
formed the Policía that Señor Kerr, a client of yours, had a scar on his neck which made you think he might be the dead man.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Will you describe the scar?’

  ‘I did to the other chap.’

  ‘I’m sorry to ask you to repeat yourself, but I would be grateful if you would tell me now.’ Members of the Cuerpo were expected to be polite, and there were times when to do so might prove an advantage. ‘Whereabouts was it?’

  ‘Right side of the neck under the ear.’

  ‘The shape and size?’

  ‘Kind of half circular, and maybe eight centimetres long.’

  ‘And he seems to be missing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is his villa locked?’

  ‘It’s now been let to the next tenants.’

  ‘What about any contents that were left?’

  ‘Packed.’

  ‘In the circumstances, I think it might have been advisable to have informed the authorities . . .’

  ‘I told the boss.’

  He smiled. ‘Not exactly authority.’

  ‘Try working for him and find out.’

  ‘I meant the Policía or the Cuerpo.’

  ‘When it just looked like he’d found a companion and gone walking?’

  ‘You think that’s likely?’

  ‘Booked in and asked me out for a meal in one breath.’

  ‘Where did you eat?’

  ‘You think you’re amusing? I told him to get lost. Is there anything more or can I get on with my work?’

  ‘You have what came out of his villa?’

  ‘It’s in a box in the safe.’

  ‘Is it full of diamonds?’

  ‘Four thousand two hundred euros.’

  He was alarmed as well as surprised. The case was becoming ever more complicated with the possible identification. ‘In cash?’

  ‘And every note is still in the box.’

  ‘I’d never doubt that.’

  ‘First thing you’d wonder would be how much has been pinched.’

  ‘You misjudge me.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘I need to see the box.’

  ‘You can count up to four thousand?’

  She went in to an inner room, returned with a medium-sized cardboard box which she put down on the desk. ‘You’ll need to sign for it.’

  ‘Then perhaps you’ll be kind enough to make out some kind of form?’

  She worked quickly at the keyboard, checked the screen, activated the printer, passed him a sheet of paper. He wrote ‘Contents unchecked’ before he signed.

  She read what he had written. ‘You lot would suspect your own shadows.’

  ‘Nothing personal, I assure you. Rules and regulations.’ He thanked her for her assistance, returned to his car, put the box on the back seat. Settled behind the wheel, he stared through the windscreen and watched two young women, in bikinis, as they walked away from the communal swimming pool.

  He drove to Llueso and the post, carried the box up to his office. He cleared the top of the desk with a sweep of the hand, opened the box. The clothes suggested Kerr had not expected changeable weather and had had to buy a Spanish-made roll-neck sweater. An unopened bottle of Glenfiddich bore the paper seal to show duty had been paid in Spain. In two padded envelopes were forty-two hundred-euro notes. In a battered cigarette case were six spliffs, their nature confirmed by smelling. There was a small notebook. Kerr had noted times of departure from Stansted and flight number; the same for Palma; the address of Nirvana Holidays in Port Llueso; and an address: Son Dragó, Roca Nesca, in the port.

  A man who went on a package holiday and rented a downmarket villa was someone who did not have much money. Yet he had bought an expensive sweater, malt whisky, and had forty-two thousand euros in cash.

  He would have to speak to Salas. After lunch.

  It was late afternoon.

  ‘Señor, I have been informed of a tenant in a rented villa who appears to have disappeared. His name is Colin Kerr. I have examined the contents he left in the villa and they are of interest because of the contradictions they present. I am confident I have identified the dead man.’

  ‘Your reasons for so firm a conclusion?’

  ‘I was informed that Señorita Berjón, who works for a villa letting agency, had read a report in a local newspaper concerning the missing man; she had reason to believe she might know who he was. I have spoken to her, and she gave me the name of Kerr.’

  ‘Why was I not informed?’

  ‘I am informing you now, señor.’

  ‘Clearly, some considerable time after you had reason to believe she might be able to provide important information.’

  ‘I thought it better to question her first in case it proved to be a false alarm.’

  ‘There was reason for the possible identification to cause you alarm?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Then you should choose your words more carefully.’

  ‘It seemed better to check she was correct before I reported to you so I would know I was not talking nonsense.’

  ‘I find your acceptance of that possibility refreshing. You have shown her a photograph of the dead man?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘His appearance might well have shocked her.’

  ‘Explain why you are ready to accept her identification while failing to gain visual confirmation. Did this woman provide any facts to support her claim?’

  ‘Kerr’s absence from the villa and leaving his possessions behind. When I asked if he bore any noticeable physical features, she named a scar. Her description of that very closely matched the actual scar on the dead man.’

  ‘You will show her a photograph of the scar for final confirmation.’

  ‘Very well, señor, but it is to be hoped she does not have hysterics.’

  ‘Cold water will very soon bring them to a stop. Why did you refer to contradictions?’

  ‘Kerr travelled on a cheap package holiday which must mean he was not heavy with cash.’

  ‘One is either well off or not well off; one is not heavy with cash.’

  ‘Unless one’s robbed a bank?’

  ‘As I have said before, humour is not your métier.’

  ‘Despite being not well off, in his possession was a locally bought, expensive sweater, a locally bought bottle of malt whisky and four thousand two hundred euros in one hundred euro notes. In addition, there were six spliffs.’

  ‘Have these facts led you to any possible conclusion?’

  ‘Because of the money, he may be in the drug or money laundering trade.’

  ‘Have you learned anything more which gives weight to either possibility?’

  ‘I’m not certain.’

  ‘Why not?

  ‘There was a notebook. In it was an address in Port Llueso. Why would Kerr have noted a personal address?’

  ‘You have not considered that he might have friends on the island?’

  ‘The address was Son Dragó, Roca Nesca.’

  ‘Have you thought to determine who lives there?’

  ‘Señor Ashton, until he died very recently.’

  ‘You are prepared to accept he might have had some criminal connection with the dead man?’

  ‘It’s indicative Kerr should have that address . . .’

  ‘I should not expect you to appreciate the character of an English gentleman. I met Señor Ashton at a party he gave to aid charity, and he would have had no part in anything of a criminal or even morally doubtful nature.’

  ‘But . . . Señor, according to a book I have just read, English gentlemen are not as gentlemanly as we believe. It’s not all that long since the owner of a mansion who invited guests to stay with him had their names put up on bedroom doors. This prevented male guests who wandered during the night disturbing the wrong lady.’

  ‘The nature of the books you read provides a lens into your character and explains how you could consider
the impossible.’

  ‘I wondered if I should speak to his wife, though she will still be in mourning. I would do so very diplomatically.’

  ‘The devil smiles at man’s mistaken pride. You will not question Señora Ashton until there is much greater and reasonable cause for doing so.’

  Alvarez walked into the office of Nirvana Holidays. Anna was speaking to a client, trying to explain that if he had left his driving licence in England, the hire-car firm in Port Llueso could not allow him to have a car. There was no point in her speaking on his behalf to the Policía, the Guardia, or the British Consul.

  Before the client left, he expressed his opinion of her behaviour when the firm’s brochure had offered expert aid to any client who needed help.

  ‘Do you often get them like that?’Alvarez asked.

  ‘Every day. What do you want this time?’

  ‘To show you a photograph.’

  ‘Of you winning the over-sixties marathon?’

  ‘I’ll need to wait thirty-five years before I do that.’

  ‘You need to look in a mirror.’

  He brought the photograph out of a large envelope. ‘It’s of the dead man, but only shows the scar so you don’t need to worry.’

  ‘You think I’m the fainting type?’ she asked as she took the photograph.

  ‘Do you identify the scar as similar to the one on Kerr’s neck? As soon as I have an answer, we’ll go to the nearest café and you can enjoy a restorative.’

  She briefly studied the photo. ‘That’s him.’

  ‘Can you be certain?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’ He took the photograph back, returned it to the envelope. ‘So, let’s restore.’

  ‘D’you mind waiting until I phone my fiancé to ask him to join us?’

  ‘I’m sorry. If I’d known . . . But you’re not wearing a ring.’

  ‘The Hope diamond is being recut.’

  Back in his car, he lowered the sunshade and studied his face in the small mirror on the back. Old enough to run in an over-sixties marathon? She was a bitch.

  SEVEN

  Alvarez crossed the old square, went into Club Llueso and the bar, stared at the bottles on the shelves as his mind drifted.

  Behind the bar, Roca moved and stood in front of him. ‘Have you had a heavy night, even by your own standards?’