In Search of Murder--An Inspector Alvarez Mallorcan Mystery Read online

  ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked as she lit a gas ring, turned it down to low.

  ‘How deceitful life can be for a young woman.’

  ‘You have discovered a conscience?’

  ‘She’s nothing to do with me. Marta works in a rich, married man’s house. He chases women and recently filled her head with thoughts of his divorcing to her benefit.’

  ‘She has not yet gained a true understanding of men and does not realise what he desires and how little he will pay for it. How do you know about her misfortune?’

  ‘One of the other staff told me he is always on the prowl, especially after other men’s wives, yet now he is taking an interest in her.’

  ‘He is English.’

  ‘Why d’you think that?’

  ‘I have read that their behaviour will surprise even a Dutchman.’

  ‘You read it where?’

  ‘In a magazine.’

  ‘A saucy one from the sound of it.’

  ‘You think I would pick up such a monstrosity, let alone read it?’

  ‘Then I have to wonder how …’

  ‘You have told her how stupid her hopes are?’

  ‘She would neither believe nor take any notice of what I said.’

  ‘You see no reason to overcome her disbelief? How typical of a man. Find reason not to do something until it is too late to attempt it.’

  ‘The danger is over for her. The señor has drowned.’

  ‘Occasionally, there are times when there is reason to believe justice is not only for the few.’

  ‘There’s the possibility his death was not accidental.’

  She went over to the cooker and began to prepare the hot chocolate he wanted.

  ‘The superior chief has ordered me to start an investigation even though there is no certainty there is any reason to conduct one.’

  ‘A Madrileño sees a rainbow when there is neither sun nor rain.’

  FOUR

  Alvarez rang the bell, waited, rang it again.

  Rosalía opened the door. ‘I can’t fly downstairs.’ She pulled the door more fully open for him to enter. ‘What d’you want this time?’

  ‘To have a word with the señora, if that is possible?’

  ‘It isn’t.’

  ‘She is too distressed?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘Is Marta here?’

  ‘I decided she needed time at home.’

  ‘Did she really believe the señor would divorce the señora and, after a decent interval, marry her?’

  ‘At her age, wishes may still come true.’

  ‘I remember, when I was a nipper, thinking I’d be a millionaire, own a great farm, breed the finest animals and grow the sweetest fruit.’

  ‘And you’ve ended up pushing your nose into other peoples’ lives.’

  ‘And their deaths. I want a word with you.’

  ‘You are not doing so now?’

  He smiled.

  ‘Would you like some coffee?’

  ‘That would be great.’

  She showed him into the large sitting room, not the staff one. He wondered why, forgot the question, went over to the picture windows, stared at the bay below and the surrounding mountains. Confirmation that nature could offer a no more beautiful scene.

  He sat. The room was furnished for effect and comfort; the large fireplace, in which a wood burning stove had been unnecessarily placed since there were four radiators, had a carved marble fire surround; a couple of paintings hung on one wall, their subjects sufficiently indistinguishable to be great modern art; on another wall was a large, framed photograph of an old binder, dawn by two heavy horses, collecting up the cut corn and discarding it in sheaves.

  Rosalía returned with a silver salver on which were two cups of coffee, sugar bowl, milk jug, and a plateful of almond biscuits. They ate, drank, chatted and it was half an hour before he said, ‘Tell me about the señor and señora.’

  ‘What is there to tell?’

  He stood, produced a pack of cigarettes and offered it.

  ‘We are not allowed to smoke in the house because the smell disturbs the señora.’

  He started to return the pack to his pocket.

  ‘That does not mean we do not smoke in the house, just that we do it somewhere where she is unlikely to go.’

  She accepted a cigarette, he lit a match for both of them, returned to a chair. ‘She is very susceptible to cigarette smoke?’

  ‘Maybe. Or perhaps it had unfortunate memories for her.’

  ‘Why unfortunate?’

  ‘Ask her, not me.’

  ‘Would you say she’s a pleasant person?’

  ‘As long as nothing goes wrong.’

  ‘And the señor?’

  ‘He had very little regard for anyone but himself. Like all men, he wanted to be thought more important than he was and as I may have told you, demanded we called him Don not Señor Picare.’

  ‘And you rightly refused. Did he often irritate you like that?’

  ‘Never more so that when he said my Pollo al ajilla tasted peculiar when it was good enough to serve at a royal banquet.’

  ‘The English regard garlic with deep suspicion because it drives the devil away. But I’m sure you never made your annoyance obvious.’

  ‘Not even when he often saw me for the first time in the morning and nipped my bum.’

  ‘You didn’t complain loudly?’

  ‘It was always just a friendly nip.’

  ‘I believe he liked to drink?’

  ‘As much as anyone, more than most.’

  ‘Did he enjoy many friendships?’

  ‘If that is how you wish to describe the company of the women.’

  ‘Were they mostly single or married?’

  ‘Various.’

  ‘You weren’t worried by all that?’

  ‘Am I fifteen years’ old?’

  ‘Did it disturb Marta?’

  ‘Probably, but she never said anything.’

  ‘But didn’t it make her think that if her daydream came true, it would sooner or later for her turn into a nightmare?’

  ‘She is old enough to understand that after marriage, a man continues to enjoy himself at the expense of other women, whether vizcondesa or peasant.’

  ‘Didn’t the señora raise strong objection to what went on?’

  ‘He entertained his women when she was not here, but with friends; no doubt the women amused him when their husbands were away. In any case, she is not the kind of person to complain, not even when he went to England for a couple of weeks or more, leaving her here on her own.’

  ‘She was very lonely?’

  ‘That is not for me to say, but I did what I could to cheer her up.’

  ‘Why did he return to England when he had such fun here?’

  ‘Maybe he entered a retreat in order to punish his flesh.’

  ‘You think that’s possible?’

  ‘I believe in little green men from Mars.’

  ‘Did you ever talk to him, find out about his life, like how he became rich? Did he win a lottery?’

  ‘Not really, except one day, I prepared a meal for him and the woman he’d brought back – the señora was away, of course. Perhaps the woman was acting like a puta, but she had more manners than him and later told me how much she enjoyed my wonderful cooking.

  ‘He’d drunk a great deal and after she’d left in a taxi, he made it obvious he wanted me to join him with another bottle. I did not want to, but as he paid my wages …’

  ‘The mule heeds the harness.’

  ‘You think of me as a mule?’

  ‘A gazelle. Did he appreciate your kindness?’

  ‘Not after I’d shown him he’d be on his own until the señora returned.’

  ‘Did you ever learn about his life before he came here?’

  ‘He owned a farm and sold the land to a firm who wanted to build houses and was ready to pay a great deal of money for it. That he had become wealthy enc
ouraged the señora and she married him and left the bar in which she’d been working.’

  ‘How do you know all that?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘You must do.’

  ‘Then tell me what I remember.’

  ‘Try harder.’

  ‘Someone must have told me … Perhaps it was the woman who came out on holiday and we met in the chemist when I helped her get what she wanted. He came in, saw her and hastily left. She spoke simple Spanish and started talking about him over coffee at a café. They’d been together until he got tired of her. She wanted to get her own back by saying that in England he had been no more than a peasant. I could have told her that.’

  ‘What else did she tell you?’

  ‘She met him somehow, some sort of agricultural show, I think. Described him as the horniest man she’d ever met. The señora kept him at arm’s length until he was suddenly rich. Then she shortened the lead until he gave in and married her.’

  ‘Money solves many problems. It’s getting late, so I must move.’

  ‘I think it is not so late you will refuse another coffee, this time with a little coñac.’ She stood, picked up the cups, carried them over to the coffee machine.

  His thoughts wandered. Picare had enjoyed affairs with married women which immediately aroused the possibility of a vengeful husband. But if every husband who was given a pair of horns immediately and invariably murdered his wife’s lover, or lovers, there would be a shortage of men.

  She placed cups and two small glasses of coñac on the table, sat.

  ‘How did you get on with the señor?’ he asked as he stirred sugar into his coffee.

  ‘As well as can be expected.’

  ‘You will stay here?’

  ‘If the señora wishes. She enjoys good food and does not ask for sausages and mash.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘I have said.’

  ‘Will Marta remain?’

  ‘The señora will probably ask her to.’

  ‘How would you think the other English regarded the señor?’

  ‘As if I could know. But if they thought of truth, not his money, they would say he was born to a very different life from the one he tried to live.’

  ‘When will the cleaner, Carolina, be here?’

  ‘She had to go to the dentist, but should soon arrive. I suppose you want to ask her a thousand questions. Will you wait? It is easy to make some more coffee and there’s still coñac in the bottle.’

  Being young enough to have avoided the oily, fatty diet necessary before the island had known prosperity, Carolina had a slim figure and the self-confidence which that brought. She sat opposite Alvarez in the staff sitting room. As attractive as Rosaliá, was his judgment, but of a different character; she was calm, cool and collected, Rosalía was a rocket with a touch paper waiting to be lit.

  ‘Tell me about the señor and señora,’ he said, after he had greeted her and explained why he wanted to speak to her.

  ‘What is there to tell?’ For a Mallorquin, she spoke quietly.

  ‘For instance, was it pleasant to work for them?’

  ‘Would you ever call it pleasant to work for someone who pays you?’

  ‘Difficult to answer, but certainly I would know when it’s unpleasant. Were they friendly to you?’

  ‘So long as I did not forget they were employing me and therefore, in their view, a lesser person.’

  ‘Would you say they were happy together?’

  ‘After they had been married for many years?’

  ‘Did they ever argue, have rows?’

  ‘Neither of them was a saint.’

  ‘I’ve been told that on one occasion, not long before the señor died, they did have a very ugly row.’

  She was silent.

  ‘You knew nothing about that even though it was during the day when you would have been working in the house?’

  ‘What happened was their business not mine.’

  ‘Nor was it mine until he died suddenly. Now I have to try to understand the reason for that row.’

  ‘I can’t answer.’

  ‘Do you think someone might have killed him rather than that he died accidentally?’

  ‘I don’t know. Why would I think like that?’

  ‘I have to ask again, did you often hear them arguing fiercely?’

  ‘He had a quick temper.’

  ‘On that particular occasion, their argument was so fierce it might easily have ended violently. Did it?’

  ‘Impossible to answer.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I cannot say whether the worst row I heard is the one you’re talking about.’

  ‘It’s over and done with. How does it matter now?’

  ‘I’ve explained why. I don’t like remembering the bad times when he’s dead and she’s all shocked.’

  ‘I don’t like asking, but someone may have murdered him and I have to find out the truth.’

  She fiddled with the edge of the apron she was wearing. ‘I was staying late because of something I had to finish and perhaps they cannot have known I was still there. I was upstairs and I could hear them because the door of the sitting room was open. Their voices got louder, then the señora came out into the hall, the señor followed her and they shouted.’

  ‘What was their problem?’

  ‘How could I know when I understand only a little English and they were speaking as quickly as a Madrileño after three glasses of wine?’

  ‘So you’ve no idea what the row was about?’

  ‘I’ve said. But most likely she’d at last found out about the women he had along when she wasn’t at home.’

  ‘Did the row reach the point where he hit her?’

  ‘If so, it was not hard. She didn’t scream.’

  ‘Did you see her later that day?’

  ‘Must have done.’

  ‘Did she show any signs of injury?’

  ‘No.’

  He offered her a cigarette, she refused; he lit one. ‘You’ve seen the women who came here when the señora was away?’

  ‘Some.’

  ‘Can you name any of them?’

  ‘No. But … Maybe the one with the dog lives near where I do.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Carrer Sant Pio.’

  ‘Tell me about her.’

  ‘Just see her most mornings when I start off to come here.’

  ‘Which is when?’

  ‘Before half past seven so as I get here to work by eight.’

  ‘And you’ve no idea who she is?’

  ‘Only that she walks a black ratter.’

  A dog, the size of a miniature pinscher, unrecognized by the international dog world, lively, impudent; he would have had one were Dolores not so house-proud.

  He thanked Carolina for her help, returned to the station. He sat at his desk, lit a cigarette. Had he, or hadn’t he, been given a lead to the identity of one of Picare’s women? Were she married, had her husband suspected her adultery with Picare?

  He stubbed out the cigarette. If the dog was walked every day, as was likely, the owner surely might be identified. But that would require him to be in Carrer Sant Pio early in the morning.

  He dialled Llueso policia. ‘Inspector Alvarez …’ he began.

  ‘The pearl of Spanish justice, the scourge of villains, the epitome of success.’

  ‘Haven’t you been sacked yet? How are things going for you, Emilio?’

  ‘Well before you rang.’

  ‘I need your help.’

  ‘Why else would you be bothered to talk to a mere policia?’

  ‘The problem needs a bit of explaining and that’s best done over a glass.’

  ‘Who’ll be paying?’

  ‘Me.’

  ‘Then you’re in trouble.’

  ‘How about Club Llueso in fifteen minutes?’

  Twenty minutes later, they were seated at one of the window tables in the bar. Alvarez drank, put his glass do
wn on the table. ‘It’s the Picare case.’

  ‘Drowned in his Olympic-sized swimming pool. But with you calling for help, he didn’t drown accidentally and you need someone to do your job for you.’

  ‘He’d been entertaning other men’s wives.’

  ‘In the pool? Gives a new twist to “Would you like to join me for a swim?”.’

  ‘I need to identify as many of his women as possible.’

  ‘To console them?’

  ‘And there’s a chance of naming one by keeping watch. At the worst, it won’t need more than a couple of mornings.’

  ‘And you’d keep watch but it would be bad for your health? My lads are working too long already to be of any use to you.’

  ‘This may be a murder case.’

  ‘Tell me when you’re certain and I’ll see if I can do anything for you.’ Emilio Grimalt turned his glass upside down.

  Alvarez signalled to Roca for fresh drinks. He quickly explained what he wanted, drank quickly to avoid the necessity of a third round.

  FIVE

  After phoning eight abogados without any luck, Alvarez spoke to Pereyra who, in typical lawyer stalling-mode eventually admitted he might have prepared Neil Picare’s Spanish will.

  ‘Will you give me the relevant details, please.’

  ‘Over the phone?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I begin to wonder if you are a member of the cuerpo.’

  ‘You want my ID number?’

  ‘Not over the phone.’

  ‘As you must be aware, this is a very important and urgent matter.’

  ‘It may possibly affect the highest on the island, but that can’t alter the necessity of your coming here to prove yourself before I can give you the information you seek.’ The line went dead.

  He replaced the receiver. Some people took their jobs far too seriously. He stared through the window at the buildings on the other side of the road. Any drive in a car in summer without air-conditioning was unwelcome, yet still preferable to working in an office. Yet it was nearing five o’clock so better to leave the visit until the next day. But like all lawyers, abogados made far too much money so it was reasonable to assume Pereyra would not be in his office tomorrow. He would wait until Monday.

  Pereyra looked like a lawyer who would question a question. He had a balding head, beady eyes, a straight mouth, a pointed chin; he wore a suit and his tie was perfectly knotted. ‘I should like to see your papers.’