An Air of Murder

by Roderic Jeffries

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Indeed.’ He absentmindedly refilled his glass. ‘I’ve been told Señor Gerrard who lives in Ca’n Dento is Lady Gerrard’s brother-in-law, but can that be right? They have the same name, but she lives here and must have more money than one dreams about and he lives in a caseta and probably has as much difficulty in paying the bills as you and me.’

  ‘He is her brother-in-law. He’s poor because he’s an author.’

  ‘That makes sense. But it’s strange seeing two branches of a family living at such different levels.’

  ‘You wouldn’t expect her to help them out, would you?’

  ‘Surely she might?’

  ‘You obviously don’t understand what kind of a woman she is. They came for a meal not so long ago. Like I told you, Filipe understands English better than he speaks only she doesn’t believe he does, so sometimes he hears things which he wouldn’t if she knew – she’d order him away. She told Señor Gerrard she was going to start charging rent for Ca’n Dento.’

  ‘The caseta belongs to her?’

  ‘If she’s going to make them pay, it must do.’

  ‘If the señor’s hard up, it seems a nasty thing to do when it’ll mean much to him and little to her.’

  ‘That’s only the half of it. Señor Gerrard has a son and she told him she wouldn’t pay for the school any longer . . . Do people have to pay in England?’

  ‘If they send their children to a public school.’

  ‘But if it’s public, it must surely be free?’

  ‘In England, public means private.’

  ‘It must be a very strange language.’

  ‘They are very strange people . . . So the señora was making their financial lives very difficult?’

  ‘And enjoyed doing so, like as not. Because of how she is, Filipe and me would be looking for another job if she didn’t . . .’

  ‘Pay so well?’

  ‘Her? Like all the rich, she guards the euros. It’s just she spends time in England where she owns a big house and when she’s not here, life is not so difficult. It’s not that we’re lazy,’ she added hurriedly, ‘but it’s nice to be able to take life a little more easily sometimes.’

  ‘I know just what you mean,’ he assured her.

  He turned on to the road and drove towards Llueso. It seemed Lady Gerrard’s vindictiveness was going to make Gerrard’s life, already hard, much harder. Two hundred thousand pounds would not only remove that threat, the money would provide a degree of financial safety for the family, a goal most husbands and fathers would seek at almost any cost.

  Twelve

  ALVAREZ ENTERED THE FOYER OF HOTEL MONTERRAY AND crossed to the reception desk.

  ‘Back to ask more unimportant questions?’ Bonet asked sarcastically.

  ‘To have a word with Señor Short.’

  ‘If you’re not careful, he’ll begin to think you have suspicions.’

  ‘And if you’re not careful, you’ll find yourself wishing you’d minded your own affairs instead of other people’s.’

  ‘That’s typical – pass an amusing comment and you immediately take offence. You blokes just don’t have any sense of humour.’

  ‘We just laugh at different things. Is he in his room?’ Bonet looked round at the key board. ‘No.’

  ‘Where d’you think he is?’

  ‘Likely on the beach with the woman he’s been chasing since she arrived.’

  Alvarez returned outside, crossed the pedestrianised area, and began to walk along the beach. Within a minute, he saw Short in the company of a topless blonde. As he approached, he tried not to appreciate her generous breasts; that was difficult.

  Short looked up, squinting to protect his eyes from the glare of the sun which, although dipping down towards the mountains, was still fiercely bright. ‘What the hell do you want this time?’

  ‘A word or two.’

  ‘You can’t see it’s not convenient?’

  Alvarez wondered if she had had a breast implant or nature had been generous.

  ‘Who is it?’ she asked.

  ‘A detective.’

  ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘It’ll be about Dora.’ He spoke to Alvarez. ‘Suppose you come back tomorrow?’

  ‘I’m afraid I must speak to you now.’

  ‘Then it’s your bad luck because I’m not moving.’

  ‘You mustn’t talk to him like that,’ she said nervously. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s silly to cause trouble.’

  ‘I’m not going to be ordered about by some self-important copper.’

  ‘Colin, you can’t say that sort of thing here. You’ve got to be so careful – the police are much tougher than at home.’

  ‘But we seldom shoot people on a Monday,’ Alvarez said, to prove he had a good sense of humour.

  She stood up so quickly, her breasts – as Alvarez inadvertently observed – jiggled. ‘For God’s sake do as he wants. Look, I’ll see you later.’ She hurriedly put on a bikini top, picked up a towel, and left, eager to escape trouble.

  ‘It will be best, I think, if we return to the hotel to speak,’ Alvarez said.

  ‘You do, do you?’ Short spoke in tones of confrontation, but he stood, pushed his feet into slip-slops.

  In the hotel, Alvarez asked: ‘Is the office free for our chat?’

  ‘I guess,’ Bonet answered. ‘And would there be anything more Don Alvarez requires?’

  ‘Just the usual.’

  In the office, Alvarez sat behind the desk, Short in front. ‘I’m sorry to have had to ask you to leave the beach,’ Alvarez said formally.

  ‘Must have made you bloody well weep!’

  ‘It was necessary because I have received information from England.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Short spoke with careless uninterest.

  ‘Señora Coates has left a will. Do you know what are the contents of that?’

  ‘Didn’t know she’d made one.’

  ‘You are one of the beneficiaries. You are to inherit a thousand pounds and the contents of her bungalow.’

  Short laughed sarcastically.

  ‘Why does that amuse you?’

  ‘Because what’s in the bungalow wouldn’t interest a rag-and-bone man.’

  ‘There is no valuable furniture?’

  ‘Never been in a place where a spinster’s lived for years? It’s filled with junk and the smell of stale lavender.’

  ‘I understand that the bungalow is valued at a hundred and twenty thousand pounds.’

  ‘It’ll need a mug to pay that sort of money.’

  ‘She had a bank account in which was over seven hundred pounds and a building society account with over eighty thousand pounds.’

  ‘Almost a capitalist!’

  ‘It doesn’t surprise you she possessed so much?’

  ‘The last person she worked for was an old man whose wife had died; he became weak and she wanted to quit because he needed so much done for him, but he promised that if she’d stay, he’d leave her everything he had.’

  ‘You think she was able to buy the bungalow and have that much money in her accounts because of what she had inherited from him?’

  ‘Must have been.’

  The door opened and a waiter came in. ‘Sorry it’s taken a bit of time.’ He handed a glass to Alvarez, turned to Short. ‘You want something?’ he asked in English.

  ‘Not right now.’

  The waiter left.

  Alvarez fidgeted with the glass to send the four ice cubes circling the brandy. ‘Were you her nearest living relative?’

  ‘Unless there’s a little bastard tucked away somewhere.’

  ‘Then it must be disappointing that she has not left everything to you.’

  ‘I could have done with it, sure, but it was up to her. What did she do – leave it to a cat’s home?’

  ‘To Señor Gerrard.’

  Short’s astonishment was obvious. ‘You’re having me on.’

  �
�That is what England has told me.’

  ‘She must have been losing her marbles when she made the will.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘She’d worked for the family, hadn’t she? Always said that when she was in service, the wives were usually bitches and Lady Gerrard was the biggest bitch of the lot.’

  ‘Is it likely she ever worked for Señora Gerrard?’

  ‘If one member of the family gets up your nose, you don’t usually stop to think that maybe the others won’t.’

  ‘Is it possible Señor Gerrard was embarrassed to see how she was treated when she worked for Lady Gerrard and so went out of his way to be kind to her; she remembered this with such gratitude, she made him her heir?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. But if that’s the way it was, good luck to him.’

  Alvarez was pleasantly surprised by Short’s attitude; there were many who would not have accepted ‘disinheritance’ so philosophically. Confirmation that one should not condemn modern youth simply because they lacked so many of the visible qualities good taste demanded.

  ‘You are very silent, Enrique,’ Dolores said, as she looked at Alvarez across the dining-room table.

  ‘Why complain?’ Jaime asked.

  ‘Because when he is silent, you are given an opportunity to speak,’ she snapped.

  Jaime emptied his glass and then, in a rare moment of rebellion, refilled it despite the fact she was watching.

  ‘You are well?’ she asked Alvarez.

  ‘Never felt better. It’s just I’ve been wondering if there’s anyone else on the island who could serve Huevos serranos which tasted even half as good as the ones we’ve just eaten.’ She doubted his words whilst not denying he was right.

  My mother taught me because she always said the most important thing for a wife to know was how to cook meals her husband would appreciate—’

  Jaime interrupted her. ‘She got that right!’

  ‘. . . because a man with a full belly is less trouble than a man with an empty one.’

  ‘Your father must have eaten very well.’

  ‘You wish to suggest that this is because otherwise he would have caused so much trouble?’

  ‘Why do you twist everything I say?’

  ‘If you drank less, you might understand it is only in your mind that my words become twisted.’

  ‘I’ve hardly had anything this meal.’

  ‘Then I am surprised there should be two empty bottles on the table.’

  ‘Because the first was almost empty at the start of the meal. And I haven’t drunk it all – what about Enrique? He’s had glass for glass.’

  ‘I hope that soon he may be more fortunate than you and marry a woman who is not so indulgent as I. She will persuade him of the joys of self-restraint.’

  ‘More likely drive him into being a five-bottle man if her name’s Eva,’ Alvarez said.

  She stood. ‘A woman dedicates herself to serve the men in her lives. Poor denuded fools that we are! Sooner pet a hungry lion than expect a man to appreciate our sacrifices.’ She pushed back her chair, stood, marched through to the kitchen.

  ‘You’ve put her into a foul mood!’ Jaime said resentfully. ‘Self-preservation,’ Alvarez replied.

  Thirteen

  AS ALVAREZ DROVE SLOWLY TOWARDS CA’N DENTO, HE TRIED TO marshal his thoughts. Charles and Laura Gerrard were far from being financially secure – indeed, they were probably amongst the poorest of the foreign residents. Yet even their low standard of living had been threatened when his sister-in-law had told them she intended to charge them rent and they would have to pay their son’s school fees. When a man saw his family face disaster, he fought; fought with every means at hand, careless if someone else was hurt. But surely ‘character’ must delineate what ‘means’ were to hand? One man might not bring himself to steal, another might readily turn to murder . . .

  Many would laugh at such an old-fashioned concept, but he judged Charles Gerrard, despite the fact he was an author, to be the epitome of the traditional English gentleman – totally honest, always courteous and considerate towards others, never willingly harming anything but foxes and game in season. Would such a man betray his character? Would he accept murder as the only way of protecting his family?

  How could Gerrard have known he was the main beneficiary in Dora Coates’s will – necessary if he had committed murder in order to benefit from her death? Might she have told him its contents in order to enjoy his surprised gratitude? Why had she left almost everything to him and very little to her nephew?

  He parked in front of the caseta, crossed to the front door, and knocked. Time bred paradoxes. Many decades ago, this caseta in good condition would have signalled that the occupants were as well off as most; now, especially for a foreigner, it was a badge of hardship.

  Laura opened the door. ‘Inspector!’ The single word was both greeting and question.

  ‘I am sorry to trouble you again, Señora Gerrard, but I need to speak to you and the señor.’

  ‘Then come on in. It really is hot today, isn’t it? We were talking to a man herding some goats and he said – that is, I think it’s what he said because he could only speak Mallorquin – it’s the hottest May anyone’s known.’

  ‘I think he has to be right.’ He stepped into the sitting-room. Pedants would decry the possibility a room could express emotion, but for him this one spoke of quiet happiness. He hoped he would not have to destroy that.

  He followed her through the kitchen and out to the vine-covered patio.

  ‘Hullo, there,’ Gerrard said, as he came to his feet. ‘Is it good fortune or careful planning?’

  ‘Señor?’

  ‘Sooner or later,’ she said, ‘I always have to apologise for my husband.’

  ‘I am afraid I do not understand.’

  ‘Just before you arrived, Charles decided the sun was over the yardarm – his yardarm, needless to say – and therefore it was time for drinks. I hope you won’t allow his ill-chosen words to prevent your joining us?’

  ‘I should be happy not to.’

  ‘After working that out,’ Gerrard said, ‘I think it’s in order to ask you what you’d like to drink?’

  ‘A coñac with just ice, please.’

  ‘I’ll get them,’ she said, then returned into the house.

  Gerrard waited until Alvarez had sat on the opposite side of the patio table before he said: ‘Presumably, you’re here again on account of Dora’s death?’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘Because there is a problem.’

  ‘It is too early to answer precisely.’

  ‘He who prevaricates, asserts.’

  ‘There are one or two points we still have to clarify.’

  ‘Which translated means, you are now convinced her death was not accidental.’

  ‘On the contrary, we are still not certain.’

  ‘The more forcibly authority denies, the more certain one has heard the truth . . . Why do you think we may be able to help you?’

  ‘You knew Señorita Coates when you lived in England.’

  ‘To “know” has many meanings, one of which – the biblical sense – is sufficiently unlikely as to be ignored.’

  ‘Did you often meet her when she was working for your brother?’

  ‘Not often, since my sister-in-law has always frowned on staff mixing with guests.’

  ‘Did you find the señorita an interesting person?’

  ‘I don’t think I would have described her in quite that way.’

  ‘You got on well with her?’

  ‘In what sense?’

  ‘As you have told me, Lady Gerrard had a certain attitude towards staff; did you have a different one, did you treat Señorita Coates with obvious friendliness?’

  ‘I hope I’m always friendly to someone who’s not given me cause to be unfriendly. Just why are you asking these questions . . .’ He stopped as Laura came out of the house, a tray in her hands. She handed out the glasse
s, put the tray on the ground, sat.

  Gerrard raised his glass. ‘Good health . . . The Inspector says Dora probably did not drown accidentally, but was murdered.’

  Laura, who had been about to drink, said ‘Oh!’, held the glass in front of her mouth.

  ‘No, Señor, I did not say that,’ Alvarez corrected. ‘I explained I am here because’ there are one or two matters concerning the señorita’s death which still have to be clarified.’

  ‘And you think we can help you do that?’ She finally drank, put the glass down on the table.

  ‘It is possible, Señora.’

  ‘But we only ever met her before we came out here when we were at Stayforth House.’

  ‘Yet when you did meet her, you were friendly?’

  ‘Of course. Why do you ask?’

  ‘You will understand in a minute, Señora.’

  ‘That seems an optimistic prediction,’ Gerrard observed. ‘Perhaps more friendly to her than to others?’

  ‘I don’t know how one would describe it. We did make a point of always talking to her and asking her how she was.’ Gerrard said: ‘Inspector, you appear to be a very straightforward person, which means you are full of guile. So you have a reason for believing the relationship between Dora and us might have some bearing on her death. Isn’t it time to explain why?’

  ‘I have to explore every possibility, Señor.’

  ‘Blind alleys lead nowhere.’

  ‘Would you imagine she possessed much of value when she died?’

  ‘She can’t have saved much on her wages and I imagine her only other asset was the state pension.’

  ‘She owned a bungalow which has been valued at a hundred and twenty thousand pounds and a building society and bank account in which are over eighty thousand pounds.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned! . . . Where on earth did all that come from?’

  ‘It seems she was left money by an employer.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that in her retirement she was able to lead a far more comfortable life than she probably expected. Tragic she should die as she did.’

  ‘Would you know who was her heir?’

  ‘Her nephew, presumably.’

  ‘She left him very little.’

  ‘That’s odd, since she seems to have been fond of him; must have been, to bring him on holiday.’