An Artistic Way to Go Read online

  ‘At the moment, I think nothing.’

  ‘It’s a wise man who can learn to do that.’ He picked up the receiver, pressed down a switch on the base, spoke to his secretary.

  In under a minute, a young woman, neatly dressed, entered and put a file down on the desk, left. Gallardo searched through the papers in the file, extracted one and read it. ‘Short and to the point. Everything is left to the wife.’

  ‘No other bequests?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘Have you any idea what size the estate is likely to be?’

  He shook his head. ‘I suppose the house is worth around a hundred million pesetas, but beyond that, who’s to know? The señor will have kept his liquid assets in another country so that the Spanish tax bandits can’t touch them. They must amount to two or three times as much, at the very least.’

  Three, four, five hundred million. Murders had been committed for a fraction of that sum.

  CHAPTER 14

  As Alvarez entered the post, the duty cabo behind the desk looked up from his girlie magazine. ‘You’ve become very popular.’

  Alvarez came to a stop, mopped his face with a handkerchief.

  ‘She’s been in twice, asking for you. I told her not to waste her talents on a brass oldie. She didn’t seem to understand.’

  ‘Who are you talking about?’

  ‘This foreign piece. She told me her name, but I’ve forgotten it. If she’d not given me thoughts, maybe I’d have remembered it.’

  ‘Señora Cooper?’

  ‘That sounds about right.’

  ‘Did she leave a message?’

  ‘Yes. But not in words.’

  Alvarez carried on, climbed the stairs, and went along to his office. He settled in the chair behind the desk. No wonder the world was hellbent for trouble when the younger generation could think of nothing except sex. Not for them the demands and therefore the satisfactions of duty done; not for them … As he began to drift off to sleep, an image of Rachael as she climbed out of the pool slid into his mind …

  The phone jerked him fully awake. Traffic reported that the most careful search had failed to uncover anything more of significance on or in the BMW.

  Sometimes, nothing could be as significant as something; in this instance it was not. Had Cooper committed suicide, it was very unlikely there would be any traces beyond those already found. If he had been murdered, the murderer, wishing to set the scene for suicide, would surely have killed him and then either wrapped his corpse in a body-bag so that no traces could be left in the BMW, or, if he had had an accomplice, have transported it in another vehicle …

  The internal phone rang. ‘She’s back,’ said the duty cabo.

  ‘Who are you talking about?’

  ‘It’s blokes like you give stupidity a bad name … Señora Cooper is here and wishes to speak to the inspector.’

  Alvarez left the room and went down the stairs. The duty cabo was exerting all the charm of which he considered he had an abundance, but with little impact because in his eagerness he was speaking too quickly and using the flowery language of the traditional lover so that Rachael failed to understand much of what he said.

  She swung round to face Alvarez. ‘What d’you think you’ve been doing? When my husband comes back, he’ll complain to the British ambassador in Madrid…’

  ‘Señora, would it not be best if we go upstairs to my office where we can speak more privately?’

  She hesitated.

  ‘If you will go up those stairs.’ He gestured with his hand.

  She walked forward.

  When satisfied she was out of earshot, the cabo muttered: ‘What a waste on an old man like you.’

  In the office, Alvarez moved the spare chair so that she could sit directly in front of the desk, then settled behind it. ‘Please tell me, señora, what bothers you?’

  ‘You know damn well! When you spoke to Neil this morning, you made the most disgusting accusation. Oliver’s missing, I’m sick with worry, and all you can do is suggest I’m having an affair. Oh, God, why do I have to suffer such a nightmare? As if I could even think of betraying Oliver. How can you be so cruel?’ She leaned forward and buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.

  ‘Señora, please understand that I have to learn the truth. I make no moral judgements.’

  ‘When you asked Neil all those filthy questions, you were making one,’ she retorted, her voice muffled.

  ‘I asked them in order to learn the facts because when those are known I will be better able to judge what has happened to your husband.’

  She lifted her head, straightened her shoulders, brushed both cheeks with crooked right forefinger, although no tears had been obvious. ‘I have been faithful to Oliver from the day I met him. Neil is a friend, nothing more. Or can’t you conceive that a married woman can be friendly with another man and yet wouldn’t have an affair with him in a million years?’

  ‘I fear that it is in the nature of my job always to have to envisage the worst rather than the best. But in order that I may have the pleasure of acknowledging the best, will you answer a few questions?’

  She hesitated as she considered his somewhat convoluted question, then said: ‘I’ll tell you everything I can.’

  ‘Has Señor Burns ever visited Ca’n Oliver?’

  ‘When Oliver was thinking of buying a boat and wanted to know what kind would best suit him, Neil came to the house to discuss the question and advise him.’

  ‘Has Señor Burns been there at any other time?’

  ‘He has not and he told you that. And as for someone saying we were swimming together naked, that’s a beastly, filthy lie.’

  ‘Why should anyone tell such a lie?’

  ‘People can be so horrible. I suppose it was a man?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then obviously he’s a pervert who gets his pleasure out of making disgusting allegations.’

  ‘You have never swum naked in the pool at Ca’n Oliver with Señor Burns?’

  ‘I’ve never swum in the pool with him, naked or in an Edwardian costume down below my knees.’

  ‘Have you been having an affair with him?’

  ‘Haven’t I been telling you again and again that I haven’t? What is it? You don’t want to believe me because you also get your pleasure in funny ways?’

  ‘Señora, I would very much like to believe you. Only before I can do that, I have to understand why you so frequently visit Señor Burns’s flat in the port.’

  The question shocked her and left her mentally scrambled. It was many seconds before she said: ‘That … that’s another horrible lie.’ She recovered her poise and spoke far more certainly. ‘Who suggested that? The same man?’

  ‘Two ladies who have often seen you arrive or leave.’

  ‘If you mean the woman who lives next door to Neil, he’s told me that the old one is so gaga she sees flying saucers every day.’

  ‘I understand that there are times when her mind is coherent. In any case, her daughter has confirmed that you have made many visits to the señor’s flat.’

  Her expression betrayed the panicky confusion in her mind, then she once more buried her face in her hands and this time cried genuine tears.

  He stared past her and through the window. Tears of remorse, or tears of angry, bitter resentment at being found out? Love offered a path to heaven and a slide down to hell.

  He reached down to his right and pulled open the bottom drawer, brought out a bottle of 103 and two glasses. Both glasses were dirty, so he cleaned one with his handkerchief, holding it below the level of the desk as he did so. He poured out two drinks, carried one glass around the desk to her. ‘Señora, drink this.’

  After a moment, she took the glass. She stared at it for a while before she drank. ‘You’ve got to understand,’ she said urgently.

  ‘I will certainly try to.’

  Her voice dulled. ‘You’ve already made up your mind what kind of a person I am.’

&n
bsp; ‘Señora, we have a saying, Before you judge someone, be sure you are ready to be judged. I am not ready.’

  She stared ahead of her with unfocused gaze. ‘Life here was so different from life in England; there it’s perpetual winter, here it’s perpetual summer. I felt ten times more alive; I wanted to capture moonbeams and ride on stars … Do I sound very stupid?’

  ‘Far from it.’

  ‘Parties were supercharged and men flirted outrageously, which was flattering and exciting, but initially I was scared Oliver would take that seriously. But he never said anything, anything at all, and it was as if he didn’t bother to notice. That hurt. I set out to try to provoke him and make him admit he was jealous, but he still didn’t respond. I decided that all he felt was pride that so many men admired me; he was seeing me as one of his possessions and was gratified that people envied him. It made me feel …

  ‘I’d only once seen Neil before the Phelps gave a party and that was when he came to the house to talk to Oliver about boats. None of our English friends ever invited him because he’d no money and had to earn a living. But the Phelps are American and see things in a different light; they look down on people who don’t work. They invited him because he’d done some repairs to their boat and they thought him a real craftsman and they liked him.

  ‘He was so obviously being cold-shouldered by all those Brits who even felt demeaned by his being there and I made a point of going over and talking to him … Can you remember what it’s like when you’re with someone and suddenly there’s electricity?’

  Why, he wondered gloomily, did she use the past tense?

  ‘Neil phoned me the next day and asked me out for a drink. I refused. He rang the next day and then the day after that and he told me that I had to agree in order to prove the truth that it was third time lucky. That … that’s how it happened.’

  ‘Does your husband suspect?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How can you be so certain?’

  ‘I’ve always told him I’m seeing a friend and she’s backed me up. He’s such a snob he wouldn’t allow himself even to begin to doubt her word.’

  ‘So clearly it’s been very much in your interests that the truth has been concealed from him.’

  Her voice rose. ‘You’re not … not thinking I could ever do something terrible to prevent him learning?’

  ‘Sadly, that is one possibility I have to consider.’

  ‘But I love him.’

  His expression was more revealing than he’d hoped.

  ‘You think I’m the complete bitch!’

  ‘Señora…’

  ‘You just don’t want to understand.’

  ‘Understand what?’

  ‘That a person can suffer brief madness and then spend the rest of her life regretting it.’

  ‘This was only a brief affair?’

  She stared at him with a look of dismay. ‘You believe I could go on and on deceiving Oliver? Can you not see what sort of a person I really am?’

  ‘You’ve visited Señor Burns’s flat very recently.’

  ‘And absolutely nothing happened. I just needed to speak to him about something … All right, I made a fool of myself; all right, I betrayed Oliver and summer madness is no real excuse. But I came to my senses and ended everything before Oliver so much as suspected.’ She stared at him, her deep blue eyes fixed on his. ‘I couldn’t let Oliver be hurt. That was more important than anything else.’ She waited, then said in a pleading voice: ‘Please, will you be kind?’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘When Oliver returns, don’t tell him what I’ve just told you. It could only hurt him most terribly to know and knowing can’t change anything.’

  ‘Unless circumstances force me to tell him, I won’t.’

  ‘You’ve made me feel as if I’ve been to confession and you’ve absolved me and now I can start life again with a clean slate.’

  It was unfortunate that she should cast him in the role of a priest; something less, as well as something more, than a man.

  ‘Please find him quickly.’

  ‘To help me do that, tell me one or two things. Does your husband smoke?’

  ‘Yes, he does. I keep telling him he must give it up for the sake of his health, but he won’t.’

  ‘Does he smoke one particular brand?’

  ‘When he can get them, it’s always Lucky Strike.’

  ‘And which whisky does he normally drink?’

  ‘He never drinks it because he doesn’t like it.’

  Alvarez fidgeted with a pencil. ‘I know it must sound stupid to ask this, but could you perhaps be mistaken?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t.’

  ‘Then there is a problem.’

  ‘What problem?’

  ‘As to why there was an empty bottle of whisky in his car. Of course, he may previously have had a passenger who for some reason left it there.’

  ‘Oliver’s far too fussily tidy to overlook an empty bottle.’

  ‘Then I must look for the explanation somewhere else.’

  ‘I don’t really understand.’ She stood. ‘It helps to know you’re doing everything possible.’

  ‘I am glad of that, señora.’

  He escorted her downstairs and out to the road. When he returned, the duty cabo said: ‘So was it as good as it looks?’

  He walked on.

  * * *

  It was a long-recognized fact that the more unwelcome an event, the more certainly it would occur at the most inconvenient moment. Alvarez was about to return home – perhaps a little early, but it had been a wearing day – when the phone rang and the plum-voiced secretary said that the superior chief wished to speak to him.

  ‘What the devil’s going on?’ were the superior chief’s opening words.

  ‘In what respect, señor?’

  ‘In every respect.’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t quite follow.’

  ‘Not an uncommon occurrence. Some time ago, you reported that an Englishman had disappeared, yet I have received no report on the matter. Why not?’

  ‘I thought it best to complete my preliminary investigation, señor, before submitting one. And since the car was found only yesterday…’

  ‘What car?’

  ‘The señor’s BMW.’

  ‘Would it cause you any concern to learn that until now I had not the slightest idea it had been found?’

  ‘I presumed Traffic would have told you.’

  ‘Assume far less, ascertain far more. I suggest you now detail all the facts, leaving aside all assumptions.’

  Alvarez did so.

  ‘You remain convinced the Englishman is dead?’

  He did not reply immediately.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Señor, since there is no direct proof he is dead, I can only note the surrounding circumstances and on them make an assumption. Yet you have just made it clear that I am to assume nothing…’

  ‘There are times, Alvarez, when I find it difficult to decide whether you suffer from a lack of intelligence or perversely set out to irritate. Is it not obvious that I was referring to assumptions which are totally unjustified?’

  ‘Yet how does one judge if they are justified or unjustified if one does not know all the facts; and if one does know them all, then surely there can be no need to assume?’

  Salas said wearily: ‘Just tell me whether you think he is dead or alive.’

  ‘I think he must be dead. Would a man willingly leave in ignorance the wife he loved? Would a rich man choose to disappear within a few hours of flying to England in order to set out on a luxury cruise which has no doubt cost many millions of pesetas?’

  ‘Assume he is dead.’

  ‘Then the question becomes, did he commit suicide or was he murdered? The circumstances appear to point to suicide. The car was very close to a cliff and the newspaper article recorded a suicide by jumping over a cliff; an empty bottle of whisky and evidence of the taking in quantity some form of medicinal drug,
probably a sedative, suggests he dulled his senses in order to bring himself to take the final step. Yet I have been unable to uncover any reason for his committing suicide, he suffers from altophobia and so would he choose a form of death that must entail extra horror? He left no suicide note, which is unusual, and he never drinks whisky. Faced with these inconsistencies, I believe he was murdered by someone who set out to make his death look like suicide.’

  ‘Someone who did not know him very well.’

  ‘Or someone who knows him well, but wishes to make out that the murderer did not.’

  ‘If he was murdered, there has to be a motive.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘In the course of your prolonged investigation, have you identified anyone with one?’

  ‘There are four, maybe five, such persons. You will remember my telling you that his wife had been observed swimming in the nude with a man other than her husband. I have identified the man and confirmed that they were having an affair. She claims that it was a very brief affair and is long since over. However, Señor Cooper was wealthy and she is the sole beneficiary under the will. Financially, it is in her interests for the señor to have died and, if one projects, equally in the interests of Señor Burns, her paramour. Secondly, there is an American, Señor White, whose visit on the Sunday seems to have frightened Señor Cooper to the extent that he left the house, although lunch was soon to be served. Señor White maintains the only reason for his visit was that friends suggested he called. I’m of the opinion that Señor White has criminal connections, although at the moment I have no proof of that. I have impounded his passport and would request that the American authorities be asked if he is known to them. Then there is Serra, a local farmer, who is very bitter because Señor Cooper has stopped his receiving the water which legally is Señor Cooper’s.’

  ‘This is the first time I’ve heard that the failure to receive something to which one has no entitlement can be a valid motive for murder.’

  ‘It is more complicated than it seems.’

  ‘That can be taken as read since you are handling the investigation.’

  ‘Water has always been a source of trouble and in the past many men have been killed in arguments over the rights. I can remember my grandfather telling me…’