Sun, Sea and Murder

by Roderic Jeffries

  The waiter brought his coffee and brandy, spiked the bill, hurried away. Alvarez read the bill and regretted his decision not to drink at a bar in a back street.

  ‘Hullo again.’

  He turned to face Emilio. ‘Have you been sacked?’

  ‘You think he could find anyone else stupid enough to accept the wages he offers? You heard him tell me to take my merienda.’

  ‘At a front bar?’

  ‘Not at any bar. In good weather, I come down and enjoy the view.’

  ‘Of young female tourists.’

  ‘So why are you drinking here?’

  ‘To enjoy the natural beauty.’

  ‘Where’s the difference?’

  ‘In an adult’s mind.’ It was obvious Emilio would like a drink. About to ignore that fact, Alvarez had second thoughts. Employees could sometimes provide information their bosses would not. ‘Why not sit down and have a drink?’

  Emilio sat, half in shade, half in sharp sunshine, which cut a line across his high forehead and tumbled hair. Alvarez signalled to the waiter who took the order. Emilio unwrapped a length of barra, cut in half and filled with slices of ham and cheese.

  ‘Estában seemed rather sharp earlier on,’ Alvarez remarked.

  ‘He was almost cheerful until you turned up and asked questions about the car.’

  ‘Why should that have upset him?’

  ‘How would I know? Are you really thinking of buying one?’

  ‘When I haven’t robbed a bank recently? I’m following up on a report from England. A Bentley was in an accident and they want us to find out if the car is on the island.’ He paused. ‘Bit of a coincidence, come to think of it.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Me looking for a crunched Bentley and finding one in your outfit.’

  ‘Cars are always hitting something.’

  ‘Just as well, or you’d be out of a job. I suppose it was a very solid bollard the Bentley hit?’

  ‘Must have been. There were flakes of concrete caught up in the metal.’

  ‘Do you know who his friend is? The one whose bollard he hit?’

  ‘Never heard the name.’

  The waiter brought a lager and spiked the bill.

  Emilio drank. Alvarez offered him a cigarette and they both smoked.

  ‘You mentioned the dent on the bonnet wasn’t worth bothering about,’ Alvarez remarked.

  ‘Nor was it. But Estában was told to send it to a good planchista who was to make certain it was perfect.’

  ‘So where’s it gone?’

  ‘No idea. Asked Estában who he’d chosen and got an earful for not minding my own business.’

  Emilio finished his barra, emptied his glass.

  ‘Would you like another?’

  ‘Never say no. Bit of luck seeing you!’

  ‘Luck for both of us.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Just a thought.’

  Alvarez ordered another lager and, in case the other would feel embarrassed drinking on his own, a second brandy for himself. ‘Sounds as if the owner of the car is going to have a larger bill than necessary.’

  ‘Many times larger. Take the wing mirror. Said it had to be replaced immediately. Meant having one specially brought out from Palma and it didn’t matter what that cost. Since he wasn’t going to be able to drive the car until all the repairs were finished, seemed daft to be in such a rush. More money than sense.’

  ‘Better than having more sense than money.’

  The waiter brought the two drinks. Alvarez slowly turned his glass between middle finger and thumb. Emilio had said far more than he had spoken. Tyler had left the scene of the accident and driven through the Continent to Barcelona where he had boarded a ferry. In Mallorca, he had had to accept he could only be safe from a charge of causing the death of the couple if all the evidence of the collision on the car had vanished. He could have taken it to the Bentley agents to have the work carried out, but they might be questioned on behalf of the English police and they would not hide anything. So! First he ran the car into something which would cause sufficient damage to cover that which had existed previously. Then he chose to take the car to Nieto, having judged him on previous visits to be a man who would respond to the offer to pay over the odds if the job was done quickly and silently. Emilio had not understood the need for verbal reticence since he had not been offered any part of the bonus.

  ‘It must be great to be rich,’ Emilio said.

  ‘It has its drawbacks. Makes one overlook the little people.’

  FIVE

  Reluctantly, Alvarez lifted the receiver and dialled.

  ‘Superior Chief Salas’s office,’ said his secretary in her plum-laden voice.

  ‘I should like to speak to the superior chief, señorita.’

  ‘Who is speaking?’

  ‘Inspector Alvarez.’

  ‘My work would be less onerous if you would remember to identify yourself.’

  She had known who he was immediately, but needed to display the authority she believed she gained from her work.

  ‘Yes?’ said Salas with his usual curtness.

  ‘It is Inspector Alvarez speaking, señor.’

  ‘I have already been informed that that would be the case.’

  Sometimes one had to announce oneself, sometimes one did not. ‘I have a report to make.’

  ‘Then make it.’

  ‘I have spoken to Señor Tyler and—’

  ‘You find it impossible to remember that a report should always identify the reason for its conception?’

  ‘How’s that?’ he asked, momentarily forgetting to whom he was speaking.

  ‘How is what?’

  ‘I mean, I didn’t quite understand you, señor.’

  ‘Perhaps you should try to concentrate on what is being said.’

  ‘It’s just that when you spoke of conceiving a report, I thought—’

  ‘Since for you the word “conceive” has only one meaning, you will not tell me what you thought.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Have you any intention of proceeding?’

  ‘There are two Tylers who live in Port Llueso.’

  ‘You will start again.’

  ‘It is Inspector Alvarez speaking—’

  ‘Would that there could be doubt on that score.’

  ‘Then I don’t quite understand why I’m to tell you who I am again.’

  ‘I am equally unable to understand how you could imagine you should.’

  ‘You told me to start again.’

  ‘I believe I have previously mentioned I have a friend who is an eminent psychiatrist who is interested in unusual cases. I have reason to think he is beginning to consider your case is unique. I have been trying to persuade you to make your reports in the approved, logical manner. Yet you have just been repeating yourself in the unthinking manner of a parrot. Do you still not understand what it is I require?’

  ‘I am afraid not.’

  ‘To know why you have conducted the enquiries with which your report is related.’

  ‘Because you ordered me to make them, señor.’

  ‘You remind me of the words of Ricardo Vallespir. Wisdom is limited, stupidity is abundant. Your enquiries have been made as a result of what?’

  ‘The request from England to trace whether Cyril Tyler is at present in the area and if he is, to examine his car for signs of a fatal impact.’

  ‘We finally have a base from which to proceed. Have you succeeded in ascertaining whether the Englishman is on the island?’

  ‘Yes. Both of him.’

  ‘You see no numerical illogicality in your answer?’

  ‘Unfortunately, England only provided one Christian name.’

  ‘Why is that unfortunate?’

  ‘Two would have saved time. I could have separated the one from the other at the beginning. That is, unless the second names were also the same. But the odds against that must be very high, you’ll agree?’
/>
  ‘Right now, I should be grateful if I had any idea what I am being asked to agree about. Are you capable of speaking in a fathomable manner?’

  ‘It seemed likely Tyler would have had a telephone.’

  ‘It is unusual to find you accepting the obvious.’

  ‘I consulted the directory and there were two C. Tylers listed. It meant I had to question both to find out which one was the one to whom I wished to speak. Cyril Thomas Tyler clearly was not the Tyler England is interested in. I questioned Cyril Leo Tyler at some length as it seemed there was good reason to do so. He owns an estate in England and a possessío here, so is very wealthy. He drives a Bentley, which is a magical car. To ride in it must be a supreme luxury; along the Croisette, it would attract the admiring attention of everyone.’

  ‘Imaginative folly. Is it too much to hope that in between absurdities, you discovered information which has at least some bearing on the fatal collision?’

  ‘Señor Tyler – that is Cyril Leo Tyler—’

  ‘You will ignore the alternative.’

  ‘Lives on his estate in Kent in England. He admits having visited friends for luncheon, but says it was on a different day. At the luncheon he claims to have drunk far less and to have left far later than according to the evidence we have. His car is being repaired after a collision—’

  ‘Is there evidence of contact? Dried blood, threads of material, impact damage?’

  ‘He claims to have driven very recently into a concrete bollard at a friend’s house and the car suffered some damage to the front end.’

  ‘It will not have occurred to you this second contact was to hide the first.’

  ‘That was the obvious possibility.’

  ‘Which does not mean you considered it.’

  ‘Having spoken to Nieto—’

  ‘Identify him.’

  ‘He is the owner of Garaje Verde.’

  ‘In Palma?’

  ‘In the port.’

  ‘You are saying that Tyler took his luxury car – described in ridiculous terms – to be repaired by some local, incompetent mechanic?’

  ‘In fact, he is really good at his job. Like the old-time mechanics, short of learning, but long on ability. However, in my opinion, Señor Tyler did not choose him for his skill.’

  ‘Too logical a reason for you to consider?’

  ‘It was Nieto’s ability to forget.’

  ‘Forget what?’

  ‘The state of the car when it was brought to him at the garage.’

  ‘You are trying to say, in your normal, incomprehensible style, that this man will not give evidence on the original state of the car?’

  ‘He denies there was any damage not directly attributable to the collision with the bollard. However, I later learned the truth was that the nearside wing mirror was missing and there was a slight dent on the bonnet. Tyler demanded a new mirror be fitted immediately, whatever it cost to get hold of one, even though it would be some time before the car would be fit to drive.’

  ‘How did you gain this information?’

  ‘Emilio told me.’

  ‘And Emilio is who?’

  ‘Nieto’s assistant.’

  ‘Why was he prepared to say what he did?’

  ‘Nieto was probably reluctant to forgo any part of what he had received from Señor Tyler for his silence.’

  ‘How typical of this island!’

  ‘I am told, señor, that in Madrid, brown parcels are needed rather than brown envelopes.’

  ‘To suggest bribery in Madrid is a shadow of what it so clearly is here, is ridiculous and insulting. Have you found sufficient initiative to examine the bonnet closely enough to ascertain the size and nature of the dent on it?’

  ‘It has been removed and sent for repair and painting. Yet Emilio described the dent as so minor as to be almost undetectable and the work seemed unnecessary.’

  ‘You have spoken to the planchista?’

  ‘I thought it more important to report to you first.’

  ‘Have you inspected the bollard into which Tyler claims to have driven the car?’

  ‘Not yet, because—’

  ‘There is no need to repeat your inane excuse. You will inspect it immediately and report to me by early afternoon.’ The line went dead.

  The order might be impossible to fulfil in the given time. There was a good chance Nieto had sent the bonnet to a local known to be very skilled. But if he hadn’t, he was going to have to be persuaded to say where it had gone. If neither bribery nor threats succeeded, there was the chance Emilio could find out the answer. Yet that might mean buying him more drinks at a front café and the cost involved still shocked. The English were to blame for his woes, Alvarez thought gloomily. Why could they not live and holiday anywhere but in his area?

  As Alvarez came down the stairs, Dolores, who had been watching the television, looked up. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he answered.

  ‘Then why are you down from your siesta so early?’

  He stepped on to the floor. ‘The superior chief demanded I make enquiries and report back to him by early afternoon.’

  She looked at her watch. ‘Then you have already dis­appointed him.’

  ‘My enquiries will prove to be long and difficult. Is there any coca to have with coffee?’

  ‘Would it not be better to forgo eating and drinking so you can return to work now?’

  ‘Better for whom?’

  She sighed. ‘As my mother used to say, a man cannot look beyond his stomach.’

  ‘There is a joke about that . . .’

  ‘I do not wish to hear it.’ She stood, went through to the kitchen.

  Stress, he reminded himself, could kill. He sat.

  ‘It’s in the kitchen,’ she said, as she returned to her chair.

  She should have brought it to him. Where would the nonsense fostered by the ridiculous concept of equality of the sexes end?

  Twenty-two minutes later, he left the house and drove around the village. By the torrente – now dry and with a bed of pebbles and occasional rocks but after a prolonged rain, dangerous – was a large wooden shed which had the sign ‘Taller Monroig y Hijo’ above the open doors. A non­descript building which failed to suggest the high quality of the work that was carried out inside.

  He entered; no one was visible. ‘Benito!’ he called out.

  A man, lying on a trolley, propelled himself from under an Audi with a battered offside. He came to his feet, partially cleaned his hands on a rag, shook hands, asked how the family was.?Eventually, Alvarez explained the reason for his visit.

  ‘That’s right. Emilio brought it along. I told him it wasn’t worth the doing, but the señor who owned the car had said it had to be repaired. If a man wants to waste money, why stop him?’

  ‘Have you still got the bonnet here?’

  ‘Sent it off to the paint shop this morning with the other panels.’

  ‘Will they have done the job by now?’

  ‘Like as not.’

  ‘Would you phone and find out and if they haven’t, tell them not to start work until I’ve spoken to them?’

  ‘Is there something wrong with you phoning them?’

  People no longer enjoyed the pleasure to be gained from helping others. Alvarez switched on his mobile and spoke to the jefe at the paint shop. The bonnet had already had several coats of paint, especially brought out from Palma, but was to get two more. Had anyone ever been asked to do so much unnecessary work?

  Alvarez terminated the call. ‘You examined the panels and bonnet carefully?’

  ‘Just got hold of a sledgehammer and straightened’em,’ Benito Monriog said sarcastically.

  ‘Any signs of damage that was not caused by concrete?’

  ‘No.’

  Alvarez returned to his car, sat behind the wheel, did not immediately start the engine. Heat sapped all the energy out of a man.

  He arrived at Es Teneres forty minutes later.

>   ‘What is it now?’ Tyler demanded.

  ‘Señor, I should like you to tell me the address of your friend who owns the house at the entrance to which is the concrete bollard you unfortunately ran into.’

  ‘Are you suggesting I lied about that?’

  ‘I doubt you did, since it will be so easy to check. I should be grateful if you will tell me the address.’

  ‘Ca’n Mahon.’

  ‘Which is where?’

  ‘Parelona.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Alvarez returned to his car, sat, stared through the windscreen. Parelona. A small bay within the large bay of Llueso. Crystal clear water, sandy beach, a view through the headlands; luxury hotel, set in sculptured gardens, built when access had to be by mule track or water because there was no road, no luxury homes so expensive that only millionaires or drug dealers could afford them; paradise when there were few trippers. But paradise was only reached through hell. The drive from Port Llueso was over mountains and on roads which were bordered by sheer rock faces, occasionally used to commit suicide. A normal man found the drive tricky. For Alvarez, an altophobe, the drive was a continuous disaster about to happen.

  He reached the level beach road and continued along that to the summer café where he drank a nerve-restoring brandy, then another to help him forget he would have to repeat the nightmare drive back to Llueso.

  Ca’n Mahon, a large house with arched patios on the eastern side of the small bay, was six metres above the sea to which access was by a flight of stone steps. The house lay below the level of the road. There was an open drainage ditch, a metre deep, alongside the road, and two concrete bollards marked the edges of the bridge over this. The right-hand one bore signs of contact and a careful examination showed smudges of grey paint.

  The office was hot and the fan did little to cool it. He studied the calendar and to his surprised pleasure found it was Friday. Pleasure and pain were seldom parted. The calendar was turned to the wrong month and it was Thursday. Two full working days before the weekend.

  He phoned Palma, informed the secretary who he was, waited.

  ‘It is a seldom enjoyed pleasure to hear from you,’ Salas said.

  Alvarez silently sighed. It was a bad sign when the super­ior chief resorted to juvenile sarcasm. ‘I would have phoned earlier but—’