Murdered by Nature Page 12
‘In the library.’
‘The copy of it is probably in that. Does the safe have a combination lock?’
‘No.’
‘So where did the señor keep the keys?’
‘I cannot say.’
‘Unfortunate, if you wanted to look inside the safe and read the will when the señor and señora were out.’
‘You have no right to make so slanderous and unfounded a suggestion.’
‘My superior chief says crime and money are like a hen and an egg. You don’t get one without the other. It must have been very frustrating not to know where the keys were, not to be able to open the will and read what you would receive.’
Benavides stood. Anger altered the pitch of his voice. ‘I will not stay to listen to your contemptible inferences.’
‘Why did you not call the police after Kerr came to the house?’
He stared at Alvarez, fear beginning to mark his plump face. ‘That is ridiculous. I never saw him, could not have met him. Are you relying on something Inés told you? If so, it was imagination.’
‘She said nothing concerning Kerr.’
‘Then why do you suggest I met the man?’
‘It wouldn’t have occurred to me to do so until I learned from England that he had a criminal background,’ Alvarez lied. ‘Then, it became obvious. You made contact because you wanted the safe opened.’
‘How could I know he was a crook?’ Benavides asked hoarsely.
‘A good question. I hope we’ll have the answer before you go on trial.’
‘Trial? In God’s name, trial for what?’
‘Murdering Kerr because he blackmailed you by threatening to expose you. That so frightened you, you failed to realize his threat had to be a bluff because if he exposed you, he must incriminate himself.’
Benavides ran a finger around the neck of his shirt, as if it were causing breathing problems. ‘I swear that’s crazy. I never met Kerr . . .’
‘The staff have denied with considerable force that they had never seen or heard of Kerr before his death. I’ve tried to think why they should all be so emphatic and wondered if you had ordered them, if asked by me, to deny the possibility. I asked myself, why would you do that without very good cause? The answer was clear. You were incriminated in Kerr’s murder.’
Benavides made a sound resembling a sob as he produced a handkerchief and, with shaking hands, wiped the sweat from his face.
Alvarez waited for the other to regain a measure of emotional control. Then he would repeat that Inés had not mentioned Kerr to him and it was only . . .
‘I did that to save the señora,’ Benavides said wildly.
‘From what?’
‘People believing she could have any reason to kill Kerr.’
‘She is the main beneficiary under the will.’
‘It’s nothing to do with that.’
Alvarez’s thoughts became bitter. Like the young woman in the film, his attempt to help Inés seemed it might lead to disastrous consequences. ‘Then why should she become suspect?’
‘Christ, I need a drink!’ Benavides ran out of the room.
Alvarez’s need for one was as great, but he doubted that in the chaos of his mind, Benavides would remember his duty as a butler and bring him one. Why should anyone believe it possible she could have murdered Kerr if her inheritance was not involved?
Benavides, a glass in one hand, returned, sat.
‘Why should the police believe Señora Ashton was responsible for Kerr’s death?’
‘The phone calls.’ He drank deeply, half emptying the glass.
‘Tell me about them.’
‘The first was when I was on holiday, and Inés answered. She told me what had happened. I didn’t believe her and thought it was one of her stories. Then Beatriz told me that after the call, the señora had become so disturbed, the señor became worried she was ill. The doctor could find nothing physically wrong with her.’
‘Go back to the beginning. You were away, Inés answered the phone. A man spoke in English so she couldn’t understand him, but she realized he wanted to speak to the señora. She took the call, which knocked her sideways. Did you learn why the call had so disturbed her?’
‘The next day there was another, and I answered it. A man said in English, which I could just understand, that he wished to speak to Señora Ashton. I asked for his name, and he said it was Kerr. I informed the señora, and she was terrified.’
‘What made you think that?’
‘The way she looked, said to tell the caller she had gone out.’
‘So she didn’t answer the call?’
‘She did another time.’
‘Which was when?’
‘She was having tea on her own because the señor was sailing. It was Kerr again. I returned to the sitting room and told the señora, who tried very hard not to seem upset, but she did not lift the receiver until I had left. I went back to the hall to replace the receiver in the hall.’
‘And heard?’
‘Inspector, I was very worried. She was frightened. I knew the caller had to be a threat to her, and I had to know if I could help.’
‘What did you hear?’
‘Kerr told her he wanted the money, or else.’
‘Or else what?’
‘He did not say.’
‘How did she respond to the threat?’
‘Said she would try to get it for him and pleaded with him not to do anything. He said he wouldn’t wait for long. That was all.’
‘Did Kerr come to the house?’
‘Later on.’
‘Give me the facts.’
‘I heard a man talking to Inés and went to find out what was happening because she can say and do awkward things when she doesn’t know someone and is nervous. He was telling her he wanted to speak to the señora. I was certain I recognized the voice of the man who’d phoned and whose name had so disturbed the señora. The señor was not at home, so I told the man to clear off. It was only when the photos and drawings were in the papers and on the television that I realized Kerr was the man who’d been found, murdered, in the bay.
‘I knew that if it became known he had phoned, terrified her, had called at the house, it was inevitable people would start to think she must be guilty. So I told the staff to forget everything.’
‘Do you believe Señora Ashton killed Kerr?’
‘Of course I don’t,’ he answered violently. ‘Can’t you understand, don’t you realize what kind of a person she is?’
‘People wear masks.’
‘If she smiles, she’s happy; if something unpleasant happens, even if it doesn’t concern her, she’s unhappy and tries to help. No one else would have employed Inés. To my shame, I knew the trouble she had at home with her father, but I said to the señor she should not work here because he entertained many important people who might be disturbed by her. He would have accepted my advice, but the señora said she must be helped and she was to be employed.’
‘Further reason to admire the señora.’
‘I tell you, she could have had no part in Kerr’s murder.’
‘You are a stout friend.’
‘I would not make the mistake of calling her a friend. But she could not be more friendly.’ Benavides moved uneasily. ‘You will have to speak to her about Kerr?’
‘It is now impossible not to do so.’
‘Because of what I told you.’ He spoke bitterly. ‘I should have let you believe I murdered Kerr rather than give you cause to think she could have done.’
A noble sentiment, easily spoken, Alvarez thought.
‘Señor,’ he said over the phone the next morning. ‘I have uncovered fresh facts in the case concerning the murder of Kerr.’
‘What are they?’ Salas asked curtly.
‘I have spoken at length to Manuel Benavides, the butler at Son Dragó. Kerr phoned Señora Ashton more than once, each call causing her great distress.’
‘Do you know the times an
d dates of these calls?’
‘No. Benavides could not remember sufficiently accurately for me to enter them.’
‘Into what did you not enter them? What are you trying to tell me?’
‘Because Benavides could not remember dates and times with any accuracy, I did not enter them in my log.’
‘Did Señora Ashton report these calls to you?’
‘No, señor.’
‘And you unfortunately forgot about them until now?’
‘I have only just learned of them.’
‘They were made before Kerr was identified.’
‘He could hardly have phoned after he was dead.’
‘It escapes you that I was confirming something which you might well have overlooked? Before the dead man was identified, there was no reason for anyone who had known Kerr to report the fact.’
‘No, señor.’
‘You do not find that obvious?’
‘I was saying that it had not escaped my mind. Had I said “Yes” you might have thought I was agreeing it had done so. It’s the problem of—’
‘A problem only to someone such as you. Have you anything more to tell me?’
‘As I said—’
‘Do not repeat yourself.’
‘Her husband thought she was physically ill.’
‘Is it possible to relate what you have just said to what you have earlier mentioned?’
‘She was so distressed by the phone calls that her husband thought she was ill and called the doctor.’
‘Might it not have seemed reasonable to have explained that originally?’
‘You told me not to repeat myself.’
‘I will speak as simply as possible, and you will try to concentrate, so that there is the possibility, however remote, that I will have a rough idea of what you have been saying. Did you learn why the telephone calls so disturbed Señora Ashton?’
‘Inés answered the first one. She is what I suppose one would call a general factotum, who—’
‘You may accept that I am well aware of her position.’
‘She speaks so little English, she couldn’t understand the man, but since he kept saying the señora’s name, she told the señora, who, Ines said, was obviously greatly disturbed. The next day, Benavides answered a second call from Kerr. When he told the señora who was calling, she was terrified and would not speak to the caller. The third time, she did. Because he needed to replace the receiver of his phone, he heard, by chance, what was being said. Kerr was demanding money and threatening the señora if he did not receive it.’
‘Demanding on what grounds?’
‘Benavides was unable to learn.’
‘Even though he was listening on another phone, as is to be expected from a Mallorquin.’
‘He comes from Valladolid.’
‘One or both of his parents will have come from this island.’
‘Some time after the phone calls, when the señor was out in his yacht, Kerr visited Son Dragó. Inés opened the front door. Benavides, who can speak some English, heard Kerr talking and went into the hall and asked the newcomer what he wanted. Benavides became convinced from the way the man spoke that he had made the phone calls which had so disturbed the señora. He told him to clear off. Kerr left.’
‘You have questioned Señora Ashton?’
‘No.’
‘Why not? You now know she was threatened over the phone and was visited by Kerr. Even you should be able to comprehend that it is essential to question her in order to uncover the truth.’
‘But if it’s not how it seems and can be explained . . .’
‘How do you explain a threat of blackmail?’
‘As I mentioned, Benavides speaks some English, but is far from fluent. There’s the chance he muddled up what Kerr said, both on the phone and—’
‘You have not expressed any such doubt until now.’
‘When listening to the conversation on the phone, he would have been worried he might be caught, and when under tension, one’s memory can become unreliable.’
‘You are frequently under tension?’
‘Why do you suggest that, señor?’
‘You have forgotten the four thousand two hundred euros found in Kerr’s possession. By the laws of probability, they were paid in response to the demand made over the telephone.’
You have always made the point that that is a possibility, not a fact.’
‘It would help if you could appreciate that different circumstances affect facts.’
‘Surely a fact is a fact?’
‘I was forgetting the necessity to explain matters to you in a simple form. Circumstances can change the light in which facts are viewed.’
‘The euros were withdrawn by the señor, not the señora.’
‘You find it difficult to understand that a husband will defend his wife to the utmost of his ability?’
‘But—’
‘You will tell the señora you have proof she was being blackmailed, and you will demand what provided the cause for this.’
‘If you’re beginning to think she could have had a hand in Kerr’s murder . . .’
‘A possibility which became a probability the moment the link between Kerr and the Ashtons was established.’
‘One could make the mistake of thinking she might in some way be involved in the murder, but that is totally to ignore the kind of person she is.’
‘I know of no one whose judgement of character should carry less weight than yours. Report to me when you have questioned her.’
FIFTEEN
Greixonera de senyals: lamb fries, olive oil, lemon juice, lard, eggs, milk, flour, breadcrumbs, nutmeg, pepper and salt. Dolores had added culinary magic to the marinated fries. Alvarez was slightly annoyed when Juan and Isabel demanded second helpings before leaving the table. His second helping thus became smaller.
‘I should like to go to Mestara,’ she said.
There was no response.
‘Cristina is fortunate. Luis is happy to drive her to wherever she wishes to go.’
‘Because if he doesn’t, she forgets to buy what he likes,’ Jaime muttered.
‘How do you know that?’
‘Luis told me.’
‘Interesting!’
Alvarez wondered how long it would be before Jaime understood the unspoken threat.
‘I suppose I could go by bus, but then it is impossible to carry anything heavy.’
Such as wine. ‘One of us should be able to drive you.’
‘I would not wish either of you to disturb yourself in order to do so.’ The false wish was sweetly spoken. She carried plates and cutlery into the kitchen.
Alvarez refilled his glass, leaned forward. ‘Why tell her that?’ he asked in a very low voice.
‘Tell her what?’ Jaime asked.
‘Cristina cuts off his wine if he doesn’t take her shopping.’
‘She didn’t say that’s what would happen to us. She would never do something as rotten as that.’
‘Why d’you think she remarked it was interesting news?’
Jaime refilled his glass after a quick look to see she was not watching him from the kitchen. ‘You think she could be wondering about trying that with us?’
‘Without a moment’s hesitation.’
‘Then I’ll make it clear she can forget it.’
‘And she’ll tell us to buy our own booze.’
‘A husband made to do the shopping? Never!’
‘Women’s liberation means attempted female domination.’
‘You think she’ll ever get the chance to dominate me?’
‘It’s not impossible.’
‘Next thing, women will start reckoning they’re as good as men at everything.’
‘Not when it comes to having babies.’
‘It’s no good talking to you when you’re in one of your daft moods. I suppose that’s because you’ve made a balls-up at work.’
‘In one sense, you could say that.’<
br />
Dolores stepped through the bead curtain. ‘If you wish to continue talking about things you do not wish me to know about, I’ll have my orange in the kitchen.’
‘We were only saying—’ Jaime began.
Alvarez hastily intervened. ‘That we don’t understand how a woman can prepare wonderful meals, keep a house spotlessly clean, and then go out of her way to help others.’
‘If I was a naive fifteen, I might find your words flattering.’ She returned to the kitchen, reappeared with a bowl of oranges, three plates, and three small steel knives.
‘It need not be until tomorrow,’ she said as she sat.
‘What needn’t?’ Jaime asked.
‘That one of you drives me to Mestara.’
‘I would happily do so,’ Alvarez said, ‘if only the case I’m on hadn’t become so complicated, and the superior chief so impatient, that I have to spend twelve hours a day at work.’
‘Twelve?’ she said, expressing surprise. ‘Are you sure that’s correct when you have an hour for breakfast, two hours at lunch, a siesta of two to three hours, after supper a couple of hours watching a film of an obnoxious nature, and finally a sleep of very many hours?’
‘If I do have a siesta today, it will be a very short one. I have to question a woman, and I don’t know how to go about it.’
‘Try speaking to her,’ Jaime suggested.
‘This woman is English?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ Alvarez replied.
‘Young?’
‘Youngish.’
‘Beautiful?’
‘Even if she was visually perfect, even though she is now so wealthy she could light cigarettes with hundred euro notes, I am not romantically interested in her.’
‘You are quick to deny something which has not been said.’
‘Maybe she’s not ¡Hola! material, but the money will make up for that,’ Jaime observed.
‘She is newly bereaved.’
‘Very ready to be comforted.’
‘You hold marriage to be of as little account to a woman as it is to a man?’ she asked Jaime sharply. ‘Money is of far greater importance than affection. You cannot understand why someone who has lost a beloved wife or husband is too bereaved to think of another relationship. Perhaps I can be thankful for your sake that if I die first, you will suffer no sorrow since you will no longer have the cost of feeding me.’