‘And the odd assassin?’
There was a long silence during which Salvador seemed to lose some of his anger. Is he going to come clean, Larche wondered. There was very obviously something behind all this – but what? He decided to push him a little more.
‘Look – why do you hate this Lorenzo so much? There must be a reason. Don’t you think you can confide in me?’ His voice hardened. ‘If you don’t, you’re wasting my time.’
‘People say my father was gay.’ The words tumbled out and the boy wouldn’t meet his eyes.
‘What people?’ Larche spoke very gently.
‘Lorenzo.’
‘He said that?’
‘He mocked me. I tried to hit him, but he’s too strong. He just pushed me on to the ground and they all laughed. All the men. The women looked on, but I could feel their hatred for him. He’s a bastard!’ Salvador was sweating with anger now. ‘Saying those things. My father wasn’t gay. He couldn’t have been.’ He switched his angry and confused gaze to Larche. ‘You knew him well. He wasn’t, was he?’
Larche didn’t reply.
Chapter 10
‘Was he?’ repeated Salvador impatiently.
Larche sighed. ‘Not in my experience.’
‘What have you heard?’ He was aggressive again now, but his lower lip was trembling.
‘A man like your father – a distinguished public figure, a politician – he would be surrounded by rumour.’ Larche knew he still wanted to give Eduardo the benefit of the doubt, and by doing this he could well be playing the useful role of the devil’s advocate – useful, that is, as regards Salvador. He still couldn’t decide whether the boy was stringing him along or was genuinely terrified of all the implications. Something had made Salvador come to him like this, but his real reasons were far from clear.
Salvador looked at him in frustrated contempt. ‘You mean you’re not going to tell me, don’t you?’
Larche caught the flicker of reserve in his eyes. ‘Look,’ he replied with sudden resolution, ‘I think you’re getting this all out of proportion.’
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘I mean that I want time to think over what you’ve told me,’ replied Larche. ‘We’ll talk again tomorrow, but I want you to tell me the truth.’
‘I am.’
‘Think about the truth.’ Larche was curt. ‘Sometimes it can be very elusive – even to ourselves.’
Bishop Carlos cut up his beef, adding another spoonful of the excellent meat sauce from the wide china bowl. He broke bread and dipped it in, transferring it to his mouth vigorously. ‘I am praying this Irishman was the assassin, even if he was just a hired hand. At least it will give the investigation a bit more breathing space.’
Anita ate little, toying with some salad, glancing curiously at Larche from time to time as if she was going to ask him a question but was putting it off.
The three of them were sitting around a small, gilded table in the herb garden. The cicadas were calling, and dimly Larche could hear the beat of waves on the Molino rocks. A wind had risen, but in the sheltered garden the evening was mellow with the day’s heat.
‘His background has to be examined thoroughly before any conclusions can be reached,’ said Larche dampeningly.
‘And Calvino will be doing that?’
‘His team will.’
‘So your own role is diminished?’ said Anita. ‘You’ve been marginalized.’ There was a sharpness in her voice he had not heard before.
‘I always was.’
Anita didn’t return his smile. ‘So you will only be asking your questions here – on Molino?’ she said impatiently.
‘I’m only here at all courtesy of the Spanish police.’
‘And my late husband,’ she snapped.
‘Yes, but if I want to make my relationship with the Spanish authorities work I have to be in fairly low profile, Anita. That doesn’t mean to say I’m sitting on my backside.’ Now it was his turn to be impatient.
She sighed. ‘I know.’ For the first time since Larche had arrived on Molino, he saw that she could be sorry. He was taken aback, not knowing what to make of this new discovery. ‘I just feel … it’s all so unsatisfactory, being kept away from information, not knowing what’s going on. Do you know what I mean, Marius?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I know what you mean.’
She started to speak, hesitated and then began, ‘I haven’t had the opportunity to … say how deeply concerned I was about the death of your colleague.’
Thank you.’ Larche felt a dreadful lurch in the pit of his stomach and for a ghastly moment he wondered if he was going to cry. ‘Of course – I hardly knew her,’ he said hurriedly.
‘Nevertheless,’ said Bishop Carlos, ‘it was an appalling tragedy.’
‘Yes. She was a very good police officer.’ Larche quickly changed the subject. ‘I’ve just seen your son,’ he said, turning back to Anita.
‘Oh?’ Her voice was neutral.
‘He came to my room.’
‘I see. What did he say to you?’ She sounded only casually interested.
‘He’s convinced Lorenzo is implicated in all this. He has some wild theory that he hired the assassin.’
Anita shrugged. ‘Salvador’s hated him for a long time now.’
‘Why?’
‘Something happened – a long time ago.’
‘Something you should have told me?’
‘I don’t think so. It has nothing to do with the case.’
‘So why does he hate Lorenzo?’ Larche was conscious of a slight tightening of tension in the atmosphere, and for a moment he had the wild thought that they were participants in some kind of mass conspiracy. He hurriedly dismissed the idea, wondering if this investigation would break him. As it was, Alison’s face, her body, her voice continually invaded his mind, making deduction cloudy.
‘He killed his dog. It was an accident – I’m quite sure of that – but Salvador doesn’t agree.’
‘What exactly happened?’ Larche forced himself to concentrate and his head pounded with the effort.
‘Lorenzo used to take Salvador out fishing –’
‘You were happy with that?’ he intervened.
‘Not particularly. As you know, I’ve never liked the man.’
‘So why did you let him go?’
‘Eduardo was keen he should know the ways of the sea.’ There was a slight sneer in her voice which Larche picked up immediately. This was the first time she had criticized Eduardo.
‘You mean he thought Salvador should mix with the common people and absorb their folklore?’
Larche’s irony made her frown regally. ‘There’s no need to be cynical, Marius,’ she admonished. ‘Eduardo had a narrow and elitist upbringing on this island, as I’m sure Jacinto told you. Neither of us wanted that for Salvador.’
‘And the dog?’ asked Larche.
‘A much-loved pet called Asterix. Anyway, the poor creature got tangled up in the winch on the boat.’
Larche’s headache increased. There was something about the insularity of this place that bred violence – even accidental violence.
‘Salvador says Lorenzo killed the dog deliberately,’ she continued. ‘Of course that’s ridiculous.’
‘It does seem unlikely. How old was Salvador at the time?’
‘Eleven.’
‘Did he have any explanation?’
‘He simply said they’d had some kind of argument and Lorenzo pushed Asterix into the winch.’
‘Did anyone investigate this?’
‘Eduardo.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That Lorenzo was terribly upset – that he’d warned Salvador not to let the dog go near the winch, but somehow Asterix did and got mixed up with it. I know it was horrible – a ghastly experience – but Eduardo was certain the whole incident was just a tragic accident.’
‘And you? What did you think?’
‘Yes,’ Anita replied slowly, ‘I thought it was an accid
ent too. I don’t like Lorenzo, but why should he do a terrible thing like that?’
‘But Salvador didn’t think so.’
‘No.’
‘And did he ever see Lorenzo again?’
‘Not to my knowledge – at least not until he went to see him yesterday.’
‘So you knew where he was going?’ asked Larche slowly.
‘Yes. I tried to stop him but he’s very impetuous. Like his father. He had this fixation that Lorenzo was somehow implicated – a ludicrous fixation.’
‘Is it?’ Bishop Carlos interrupted suddenly, wiping his plate with his bread. ‘Anita – I’m not so sure that you didn’t half believe Salvador yourself.’
‘Perhaps I would have liked to,’ she said, the old detachment returning, ‘but can you imagine for one moment I would have allowed Salvador to go and see Lorenzo on his own if I thought he was involved? It’s a ludicrous idea. Lorenzo is nothing; a little man who has become a nuisance and has already received a month’s notice.’ Anita concluded on a cold and derisory note. But she has been showing emotion, thought Larche. Maybe she regards that as a weakness. Would she ever agree to psychoanalysis, he wondered. But he knew that it would take an apocalypse to convince her that psychiatry could help.
‘Salvador ran off before you could stop him,’ demurred Bishop Carlos.
‘I could have sent Jacinto after him.’
‘But you didn’t.’
‘No, there was no point. We’d been cooped up together for a long time. I thought my son needed a break.’ She looked challengingly at Larche but he said nothing. Then Anita snapped out, ‘Lorenzo could never have had the power or the influence to employ an international assassin, and when the body of this Irishman was discovered I was even more certain that Lorenzo could have had nothing to do with it.’
‘Sure enough to let Salvador off the leash?’ Larche was insistent.
‘Yes,’ she replied firmly.
Larche turned to Bishop Carlos. ‘I gather Lorenzo was a novice on Fuego.’
‘For a short while.’
‘Did you know him?’
‘Not well.’
‘But you must have formed some impressions of him?’
‘He seemed very much an idealist.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means he was young and enthusiastically devout.’ The Bishop’s tone was enigmatic.
‘Isn’t that what he should have been?’ asked Larche ingenuously.
‘I would have wished him to have a little more discernment. Perhaps more doubts. But all this is very superficial; as I said, I hardly knew him. Father Gallo was in charge at Fuego. If you want to know more you should ask him.’
‘Why did he leave the community?’ asked Larche a little brusquely.
Bishop Carlos paused, reflecting for some time. Then he said, ‘Father Gallo told me that Lorenzo lost his faith.’
Larche felt he could detect something uneasy in Bishop Carlos’ manner and decided to press him. ‘Did you follow it up yourself?’
‘No,’ said Bishop Carlos. ‘I knew the Father would have talked it all through with him.’
‘And there was nothing else?’
‘No.’
‘He is not … he had not been involved in any homosexual acts?’ Larche heard himself sounding pompous and was conscious of Anita’s eyes on him.
‘Certainly not,’ replied the Bishop authoritatively.
‘You’re sure?’
‘Father Gallo would have told me.’
‘You’re quite sure he would?’
‘Absolutely.’ The Bishop looked offended and glared down at his empty plate.
‘I don’t think Lorenzo is a homosexual,’ said Anita. ‘But I do think he terrorized Sebastia with his bullying, his unreasonable demands, the way he lined his own pockets. Many of the villagers complained to me. Repeatedly.’
‘And Eduardo? Didn’t they complain to him too?’
‘They gave it up because he wouldn’t listen. You have to appreciate that despite everything Lorenzo got results, and Eduardo liked results.’ She paused and then said abruptly, ‘It was only in the last few weeks that he realized Sebastia would no longer tolerate him. Will you be talking to Lorenzo yourself? Or are you going on Calvino’s word?’ Her voice was very smooth, but he detected a hint of malice.
‘Yes, I will talk to him, perhaps more out of curiosity than anything else,’ observed Larche mildly.
‘Of course.’ There was a long pause. ‘He must accept his month’s notice. I’m not keeping him.’
‘And who will run the Sebastian fishing industry?’
‘We’ll find someone,’ she replied with easy confidence.
The remainder of the meal continued with an unanimated discussion about the fishing industry in Sebastia, Eduardo’s original hopes and how they had been fulfilled until Lorenzo became unpopular. The conversation was led by Anita, listened to by Larche and largely ignored by Bishop Carlos who ate cheese, sipped at a liqueur and almost fell asleep. Meanwhile, Larche came to the conclusion that he would walk over to Sebastia tonight. He had to see the place for himself at last.
Half an hour later Larche left the guest house again, feeling drowsy; the ornate bed had seemed more than welcoming but he was determined to keep going, partly because he didn’t want to be alone and have his mind swamped with visions of Alison. Somehow he had to keep on his feet until there was some resolution of the case. He paused, feeling short of breath. The heat of the night had sharply increased and the velvet darkness was an oppressive wall through which he had to push himself. The cicadas had stopped singing and the silence was weighty, impenetrable – so much so that he gave a little whimper of anxiety as a voice whispered, ‘Monsieur Larche?’
‘Who’s that?’
‘Bishop Carlos.’ His tall figure emerged from the shadows. ‘I’d like a word. It won’t take long.’
‘Do you want to go inside or –’
‘No.’ The Bishop was sweating heavily. ‘I lied to you.’
Larche was horrified. After all that had happened, a confession from almost anyone else on Molino would merely be surprising, but this admission from the eminent and seemingly courageous Bishop was yet another twist that set Larche’s mind racing with conjecture. By his presence, by his knowledge of the family, perhaps by their need to confess, finding him so much easier to talk to than Calvino – Larche had definitely started something. The problem was that he was hard pressed to know exactly what to do with his scrambled information – how to fit its seemingly ever-changing pattern into something coherent.
‘I had to,’ Bishop Carlos was saying. ‘Anita’s feelings …’ His voice petered out. ‘There’s a limit to even her self-control.’
‘I agree.’ Larche was quietly soothing. It seemed the only attitude to take. ‘What do you want to tell me?’ He shortened his pace to the Bishop’s. The island’s getting smaller, he thought illogically. Emotions have been fermenting too long, and now they’ve started to flood over the top of the well. He had to be up to this; he had to regain his objectivity to stand any chance of success.
‘That there were … incidents … in the monastery on Fuego. That Lorenzo was asked to leave. He … did have a relationship with another man.’
‘A monk?’
‘Yes.’
‘It was hushed up?’
Carlos smiled bitterly. ‘Of course.’
‘Who by?’
‘Me. There was no need for scandal,’ he added stolidly, but there was a profound sadness in his eyes.
‘Is there anything else you want to tell me?’
‘I believe you know there is. Don’t play games with me, Monsieur Larche.’
‘You mean Eduardo.’
‘Yes.’
‘And Salvador?’ asked Larche tentatively.
‘I’m very concerned for him. But of course – I haven’t the slightest shred of evidence.’
‘But you are sure about Eduardo and Lorenzo?’
There
was no reply.
‘Aren’t you?’ insisted Larche. ‘A number of other people are.’
‘Anita mustn’t know. Ever.’ His voice broke slightly.
‘These things get around,’ said Larche mercilessly. ‘I should have thought they would have got around to her.’
‘She was well protected from rumour.’
‘By who?’
‘Eduardo himself. Who else?’
‘And you feel certain she doesn’t guess – that everything was well covered up?’
‘She very often talks to me and I have taken her confession. Believe me – I would have known.’
‘But you don’t agree with Salvador?’
‘That Lorenzo is behind this? Of course not. It would be out of the question. The killings were far too sophisticated. Nevertheless, I had to let you know about Lorenzo – admit to you that I lied – but it mustn’t go any further.’
‘So what are you telling me?’
‘I’m not telling you, I’m asking you. I want her protected. It’s a sacred trust that I must take on for Eduardo.’
‘Why shouldn’t she know the truth?’
‘It would kill her.’
Larche nodded. He was right. It was as simple as that. The walls of Anita’s beseiged citadel of evasion were crumbling.
‘You will be seeing Lorenzo?’ Bishop Carlos seemed anxious.
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
‘Tonight, perhaps. I’d like to have an informal chat.’
‘You’ll keep her out of it?’
‘Yes.’
‘She must never know.’ Bishop Carlos was insistent. ‘Anita is a good woman – a damaged woman – and she has lost so much. At least her memories must be kept intact.’
‘So she has the perfect portrait of the perfect man?’
‘She deserves that. You’ve no idea how much she has done for the Church – for charity. Anita Tomas is the most self-sacrificing person I know, and she must be supported.’ He was very agitated now – agitated and insistent. Larche was sure that he had more to tell him.
‘It’s very big all this, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘To hush up, I mean.’
‘Yes, but so far it’s been achieved. We just have to go on protecting her until the worst of all this is over.’
‘You don’t think Lorenzo will blackmail her.’
Confessional Page 17
