Murdered by Nature

by Roderic Jeffries

  She hit the table with the flat of her hand. ‘Since no one will enjoy the treat while ill manners prevail, you two will explain what so rudely amuses you.’

  They looked at each other.

  ‘You do not wish to have any ice cream?’

  Isabel spoke slowly, careful not to look at her brother. ‘Two girls were having chocolate sundaes at Café Tomás.’

  ‘If that is a cause for amusement, I fear we may suffer your stupidity until the end of the season.’

  ‘Both of them,’ Juan added.

  ‘Many tourists eat and drink at that café.’

  ‘They weren’t much older than me and didn’t look anything special.’

  ‘To eat at a café for tourists for whom money is no object is very foolish but no cause for amusement.’

  ‘Then uncle is very foolish?’

  ‘Are you saying . . . ? Isabel, you will help me with the ice cream.’

  ‘Why can’t Juan?’

  Twenty minutes later, the table had been cleared except for two glasses, an ice bucket, and a bottle of Soberano, the children had gone out, and Dolores’ expression was that of a rider who had just been told her horse was cow-hocked. Alvarez hastened to leave. ‘I must get back to the post. With all the work—’

  ‘You will leave when I have said what I have to say.’

  ‘You won’t want me.’ Jaime began to stand, holding on to the edge of the table for balance. ‘I promised to meet Tolo . . .’

  ‘He will wait. Enrique, is it true you were in the square?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘You were at Café Tomás?’

  ‘I suddenly felt I had to sit for a while.’

  ‘Were there others at the table?’

  ‘You’re not going to start—’

  ‘Was Juan correct to describe them as young girls?’

  ‘If you think—’

  ‘My thoughts are simple. For a man of your age to be in the company of two young women who you are feeding chocolate sundaes, as a hunter uses bait, is contemptible; to do this in full view of any passing villager is humiliating.’

  ‘I gave them a good time in the hope they would give me a good time? Is that what you think?’

  ‘I do not wish to express my further thoughts.’

  ‘You’ve just been doing so.’

  ‘By tomorrow, everyone in the village will know about this and our family will be shamed.’

  ‘Would you care to listen to the facts before you get things even more wrong?’

  ‘I’ll move and see if Tolo is still there,’ Jaime said. He let go of the table and took a pace towards the entrada.

  ‘You will listen to what I have to say so that should you be tempted by immoral thoughts to entertain a young lady – or if, like Enrique, you know of no limit to licentiousness, two young ladies – you will understand—’

  Alvarez interrupted her. ‘I was at Café Tomás when I saw Inés with a friend. She is very naive and mentally overpowered by her father who is some kind of cultist. She works at Son Dragó because the señor and señora were kind enough to employ her even though advised by the staff not to. I had not met her friend, Matilde, before and will not be concerned if I never meet her again. Conversation was carried on by her, talking endlessly about nothing. And to make things quite clear, I did not slip my hand under the table and—’

  ‘You will not refer to such disgraceful action.’

  ‘You accused me of shaming the family . . . !’

  ‘I have no wish to continue the conversation.’ She swept out of the room.

  ‘Now you’ve annoyed her so much, we’ll likely be having to eat garbanzos,’ Jaime muttered.

  ‘Do you never consider anything but your stomach? It doesn’t worry you two cents she got everything wrong when she went for me?’

  ‘Now she’s away, let’s hear what really happened. You picked up one of ’em and the other tagged along and wouldn’t take the hint and clear off to leave you to get cracking?’

  Alvarez poured himself another drink.

  NINETEEN

  The wind was strong, and the trees, shrubs and bushes along the drive to Son Dragó were in constant, irregular motion. The sea was equally restless; waves slapped Roca Nesca, sending spray sufficiently high that, at one point, Alvarez had to switch on the windscreen wipers.

  He braked to a halt. He silently promised himself to forgo any drinks that day if Laura Ashton had decided to remain longer with her friends. As he left the car and walked to the front door, he added the further denial of cigarettes if Benavides informed him the señora would not be returning for several days and still could not name with whom or where she was staying.

  Benavides opened the front door. ‘Good morning, inspector. You wish to speak to Señora Ashton?’

  ‘She has not returned?’

  ‘She did so yesterday evening.’

  What was the good of self-denial if there was no compensation? ‘Perhaps her short break has not been as promising as she’d hoped?’

  ‘If I may venture an opinion, she has returned in better spirits.’

  ‘Yet you think it might be wise for me to wait a day or two before having another talk with her?’

  ‘I should not like to give an opinion as to that, but in Valladolid we say “it will take twice as long tomorrow”. Would you like to enter?’

  He was shown into the sitting room. He looked through the nearer picture window and wished he was outside, in the fresh, salty wind.

  Laura entered. ‘Good morning, inspector.’

  He returned the greeting. Her dress was in two dark, flat colours, which suited her as well as carrying the suggestion of mourning. She looked relaxed, spoke easily; when she sat, she rested her arms on the chair. ‘I hope things won’t be as dramatic as last time.’

  ‘I . . . That is . . .’

  His nervousness induced in her a sense of tension. She began to fidget with the material of the chair arm. If it had to be done, it was best done quickly. ‘Señora, what was your name before you married Señor Ashton?’

  ’How can that matter?’

  ‘I should like to know.’

  ‘For what reason?’

  ‘I think that will become clear.’

  Benavides entered. ‘Would you wish for coffee, señora?’

  ‘Yes, please. And the inspector might also like some.’

  When Benavides briefly looked directly at him, Alvarez ‘heard’ the other’s silent words. Treat her kindly; say nothing to make her realize you can believe she might have murdered Kerr.

  Benavides left.

  She said: ‘If it’s so important, I was christened Laura Dorothy Lomas.’

  ‘And when you married Señor Ashton, that was your name?’

  ‘Why d’you think it could have been anything else?’ she asked sharply.

  Had she not included ‘Dorothy’, he might have accepted he had added coincidence to coincidence. ‘It was not Laura Dorothy Kerr?’

  She made a mewling sound which came from the back of her throat. ‘No,’ she denied shrilly.

  ‘Señora, I have learned that Colin Kerr suffered a serious injury to his neck and, in hospital, his life was saved by a nurse. Were you that nurse?’

  ‘No,’ she answered. Her denial lacked all conviction.

  ‘Did you marry Kerr?’

  ‘You can’t understand,’ she said shrilly.

  Benavides entered, offered the tray to Laura so she could help herself to milk and sugar. He crossed to where Alvarez sat, thrust the tray forward as he said: ‘Picor de Satanás.’ He left.

  ‘Was he blackmailing you because Señor Ashton did not know you were married when he met you in the hospital in which he was a patient? Señora, I should like to know.’

  ‘No!’

  He waited.

  She stared at the carpet in front of her chair. ‘Charles’ wife died.’

  He made no comment.

  Her voice became calmer. ‘Knowing that his mental pain would b
e worse than his physical pain, I gave him all the sympathy I could. When he left hospital, he insisted I went with him as a private nurse. One day, he . . . he proposed to me.

  ‘I didn’t know how to answer. I had come to like him very much – his strength of character, compassion, sense of humour – but his was a different world from the one I knew. I told him that people would say I was marrying him for his money. I still remember what he replied.’

  ‘May I know what he said?’

  ‘More damn fools if they’re so small-minded they can’t understand you’re someone who could never sell herself.’

  ‘You did not tell him you were married?’

  ‘The houses in London, here, the Bahamas, the flat in New York; flying everywhere first class, staff to do the work, money to buy beautiful clothes . . . Perhaps I did sell myself.’

  ‘No,’ he said sharply. ‘You would not have married him had you not been in love; luxuries would have counted for nothing.’

  She looked up and at him. ‘You believe that?’

  ‘In the short time I have known you, señora, I have learned that you are totally honest.’

  ‘When I didn’t tell Charles before we were married? And I never regretted not having done so until . . .’

  ‘Until, señora?’

  ‘Manuel told me someone had phoned and wanted to speak to me, his name was Kerr. I was frightened and refused to answer that time. I desperately tried to believe the caller could not have been Colin. There had to be dozens of men with the surname Kerr. Then he turned up here. Manuel would not let him in. He came again, when Charles and Felipe were sailing. Colin said he needed money and if I’d give him five thousand euros, he’d forget we’d been married and had not divorced so my marriage to Charles was . . . was bigamous.’

  ‘You paid the money?’ he asked, knowing it had not been she.

  ‘Charles gave me an allowance so I didn’t have to ask for money every time I wanted to buy something, but I couldn’t meet so large a demand. He was becoming very ill and I was terrified how he’d react if he learned we weren’t legally married because he held old-fashioned moral values.’

  ‘And since legally you were not his wife, you could not inherit under the unfortunate terms of his will.’

  ‘You think that’s what so desperately worried me? You believe it was money, not the hurt I’d cause him, which made me so desperate?’

  ‘I spoke stupidly, señora. Even a second’s thought would have prevented my suggesting such a possibility.’

  ‘Charles became certain something was wrong with me, even though his mind had become vague. He asked me what it was. I tried to say I was just not feeling a hundred per cent, but he knew me too well to believe that. He said he knew he couldn’t live much longer, and I must tell him what was the trouble so that he could try to put it right while he still had the time. I . . . I broke down and told him everything. Instead of hating me for not saying I was married when he proposed, instead of calling me a cheat, a liar who had been after his money, he made me sit down on the bed, took hold of my hands and said something which made me . . .

  ‘He gave me the money. I handed it to Colin and asked him to leave the island and my life. He laughed. He wasn’t going to get rid of a cow whilst it could still be milked. If I tried in any way to thwart his blackmailing, he’d make it public that I had never been Charles’ legal wife and I’d be shut out of everything he owned.’

  ‘He was wrong.’

  ‘Don’t you understand? The Spanish abogardo didn’t realize that because of English law, he should have named me and not just referred to me as Charles’ wife.’

  ‘Señora, I asked the authorities in England to tell me what they could about Kerr’s background. I learned he was a small-time crook. Good looking, presenting charm when he wanted to, he searched for a woman with some capital, recently bereaved or single and with few, if any, living relatives. He engaged her affections, married her, stole her money and disappeared. Only his marriage to the first victim was legal since she is known to still be alive. All later ceremonies were null and void. Your marriage to Señor Ashton was true since you were never legally married to Kerr.’

  It was many seconds before she said: ‘Oh, God! If only I’d known. Why only now?’ Her body shook as she cried.

  He left the room and its bitter sorrow, went out of the house and over to his car. As he started the engine, Benavides ran out of the house, banged on the door’s window, and shouted: ‘What have you been saying to her, you bastard?’

  He drove away, his mind asking: what was it she had not said? That there would have been no need to kill Kerr?

  Nurses knew full well the dramatic effect of poisons.

  He poured out a large brandy and drank it before he dialled.

  ‘Yes?’ Ángela Torres said sharply.

  ‘Inspector Alvarez. I need to speak to the superior chief.’

  ‘Wait.’

  Time elongated.

  ‘Yes?’ Salas demanded.

  ‘Inspector Alvarez, señor. I have questioned members of the staff at Son Dragó and their evidence has not altered; they have confirmed all they have said before. The warning notice about the almonds was always in place. García knocked them down before there was any danger of their falling and immediately burned them.

  ‘I have also questioned Señora Ashton. She had not informed Señor Ashton of her first marriage to Kerr until forced to do so by Kerr’s blackmailing demands.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘Shortly before her husband died.’

  ‘And Señor Ashton had not drawn up another will, naming her by her true surname so she could inherit his estate?’

  ‘His mental condition had become confused and it’s doubtful it occurred to him to do this; in any case, a new will might not have been accepted because of that confusion.’

  ‘You understand the significance of what you have just learned?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘I will assume the contrary. If Kerr died, she thought it unlikely that it would ever become known her marriage to Ashton was invalid and she should be able to inherit.’

  ‘If she judged Kerr’s death was the only solution, she would not have told her husband the truth.’

  ‘Did she?’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘What proof is there that she did tell her husband?’

  ‘One doesn’t have proof of a private conversation unless it’s taped.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘Why should she lie?’

  ‘The answer escapes you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I am not surprised. Where there are staff, private conversations are potentially far from private. You will question them all as to whether one of them heard anything significant; perhaps one day the señor, whom you suggest had become less than mentally alert, did not guard his tongue sufficiently.’

  ‘You still consider her a possible suspect?’

  ‘The prime suspect. I would be at fault if I did not do so, as you are at fault in trying to deny the probability.’

  ‘If you had met her, spoken to her, listened to her, you would understand she is incapable of such a crime.’

  ‘I do not welcome my judgements being made by someone else. If she did not poison Kerr, who did? Name the possible suspects.’

  ‘Benavides, García.’

  ‘You know of no others?’

  It occurred to him that he had forgotten to question Beatriz again. ‘Inés, María, Raquel, Beatriz.’

  ‘Why do you name men by their surnames, women by their Christian names?’

  ‘It seems more respectful.’

  ‘Respect is seldom remarked on this island. You have not mentioned Browyer. Have you decided to forget the absurd and irrational suggestion he murdered Kerr because he had been disinherited by the señor?’

  ‘I am certain he lacked the intention or ability to poison Kerr.’

  ‘You have named all potential heirs?’

&nb
sp; ‘Llueso was left five thousand euros . . .’

  ‘In an excess of wild imagination, you conceived the possibility one of the staff . . . I forget what was the supposition. I presume you no longer consider that, whatever it was?’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Then one must accept, as I have constantly reminded you, money must be the motive. Yet all those who had a hopeful interest in the estate are, in your judgement, innocent?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then either one of those whom you’ve named has fooled you or you have failed to identify a person who has a motive.’

  ‘Señora Ashton did not kill Kerr.’

  ‘And if I accept that?’

  ‘You do agree I have been right from the beginning?’

  ‘You did not hear me say the word “if”?’

  ‘I am not sure what you are suggesting.’

  ‘If you believe none of the suspects you have named is guilty, you have hardly carried out a competent investigation. You will start to do so by considering what I have tried to get you to understand: money will provide the motive.’

  ‘Yet if everyone with any interest in the señor’s estate is innocent . . .’

  ‘You choose not to remember the little apophthegm I drew up as an invaluable aide-memoire for any detective of intelligence. When all that is impossible is eliminated, whatever remains has to be the truth, however improbable.’

  ‘If you are using that to try to say the señora poisoned Kerr . . .’

  ‘I am saying exactly that.’

  ‘But if something is so improbable as to be impossible . . .’

  ‘You have failed to understand the meaning of my neat apophthegm.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘There is no need to continue the conversation.’

  Alvarez slowly replaced the receiver. What if he had understood it and Salas had not?

  TWENTY

  Alvarez poured himself another brandy, leaned back in the chair, put his feet up on the desk. Laura Ashton, far too disturbed in mind, had not understood the fear and hatred her confession brought her husband. Fear that after his death she would be financially ruined; hatred for the man who yielded the threat. He had given Laura the first payment of blackmail, decided to use the life left to him to make certain that was the last payment. Yet his physical condition had become so poor that when he had said he was going with García for a sail to enjoy one final moment on the water, no matter that it was dark, the staff had done everything they could to prevent his doing so.