As Alvarez watched Jaume leave, he tried and failed to remember a girl named Magdalena. Probably he should check for fingerprints. He should question Julia and oversee the removal of the body before he considered leaving. But even if Julia had calmed down, it would be kinder not to bother her until tomorrow. Help would be needed to check the possibility of prints. The undertakers were very efficient and he could tell the policia to receive them.
Authority lay in the art of delegating.
Jaime was at the dining table, an empty glass and a half-filled bottle of Bach in front of him.
Alvarez sat, brought a glass out of the sideboard, reached across the table for the wine.
‘Go easy,’ Jaime said.
‘Why?’
‘That’s all there is. She hasn’t bought any more.’
‘Didn’t she check how little was left before she went shopping?’
‘Says the cost of living has gone up so much, we’re going to have to drink a lot less.’
‘She’ll have to cut back on something else.’
‘Would you like to explain on what?’ Dolores demanded as she stepped through the bead curtain.
Were women born with the ability to hear what it was intended they should not, or did they cultivate it? ‘Surely we can make some little economies?’ Alvarez asked.
‘Indeed. Which is why I have not bought more wine and coñac.’
‘I was thinking more of—’
‘My clothes? You would like me to continue wearing my old clothes until they are darned and stitched and I am mistaken for a beggar?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then you are thinking of food? I should spend all morning, however much my back and legs ache, visiting every shop to find where I can buy the cheapest meat, fruit and vegetables? You will be content to eat no better than the menu del dia at the meanest restaurant? Or maybe you are satisfied that there would be no difference from the meals I have been serving you?’
‘The Ritz in Madrid can’t produce food as good as you do.’
‘Because I have the vanity of a woman, I buy creams to tend my complexion, mistakenly believing the men of the house wish me to look fine. You would like me to forgo my one small luxury in order that you may walk amongst the clouds?’
‘You don’t understand—’
‘I understand that men are by nature selfish and will sacrifice anyone but themselves.’ She returned to the kitchen, head held high, shapely shoulders squared.
‘You would upset her before she’s finished the cooking, so maybe she doesn’t take proper care, wouldn’t you?’ Jaime said bitterly.
SEVEN
‘Señor,’ Alvarez said over the phone, ‘I am about to type out my report and fax it to you, but—’
‘You have found a novel reason why this should be impossible?’ Salas asked caustically.
‘I thought I should first explain verbally what I have learned.’
There was silence.
‘It seems you have learned very little,’ Salas remarked.
‘I was waiting for your comment, señor.’
‘You have just received it.’
‘I meant, whether you would like me to make an additional verbal report?’
‘“Like” suggests choice.’
‘Font – the forensic doctor – confirmed death was from two shots; neither was contact. He gave the estimated time of death, but added that this was even less reliable than usual because the air conditioning was on in the library and set very cold. If it had been working since Tyler died – which has to seem probable – the cold would have delayed the usual sequence of post-mortem effects.’
‘Was it on when he died?’
‘I haven’t yet been able to find out.’
‘It was optimistic of me to think you might have done.’
‘This definitely was not suicide because—’
‘In face of your certainty, I suggest one accepts it might well have been.’
‘The shots were fired some distance from the body and there is no gun in the library.’
‘The forensic doctor was of the firm conclusion that it was a case of murder?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then he agrees with you. Not a welcome situation for a man of learning. You have questioned the staff, relations, friends to discern the motive?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Perhaps you do not think that necessary?’
‘I haven’t had the time—’
‘Time travels at different speeds for different persons. For you, it seems always to be slow.’
‘There has been so much to do, señor.’
‘And so little done. Whom do you intend to question this evening?’
Alvarez looked at his watch. It was after seven, time for a pre-supper drink, but the superior chief was oblivious to such facts. ‘It seems to me it will be best to start talking to the staff.’
‘Then do so. You are viewing them as suspects?’
‘Not at the moment.’
‘Why not?’
‘I have not yet had a chance to speak to them. Yet from what I’ve learned, I very much doubt Julia was the gunman . . . is that right?’
‘Only if one is sufficiently incompetent to start a case with preconceived judgements.’
‘I wasn’t really meaning the question in that sense. What I was thinking was, if she had shot Tyler, she would not have been a gunman.’
‘Why not?’
‘Surely she’d be a gun-woman?’
‘There are times, Alvarez, when I am convinced that you were accepted into the Cuerpo due to a malign mistake. You will question everyone at the first opportunity.’ Salas rang off.
The first reasonable opportunity was the next morning. He would return home.
There was no answer to his knocking on the front door of Es Teneres. It was unlocked, so he opened it and stepped inside, called out. After a while, Julia came through a doorway into the hall.
‘Hullo. You’ll remember me. Enrique Alvarez. We met when I came here last.’
She looked blankly at him.
‘I’m Dolores’s cousin.’
She said a meaningless, ‘Yes.’
Her appearance marked her as still being upset. She had not combed her hair, probably had not washed her face, the apron she wore had been secured unevenly, her manner was disorientated. ‘I hope you’re up to telling me one or two things I need to know,’ he said quietly.
She looked briefly at him, then back at the floor.
‘Suppose we find somewhere to sit and have a chat?’
She might not have heard him.
He walked over to the door of the sitting room, said in an authoritative voice: ‘Come in here.’
She followed him inside, sat when he suggested she did so.
‘What I’d like is for you to tell me in as much detail as you can remember, what happened yesterday morning.’
‘No,’ she said shrilly.
‘I need your help to find out who shot the señor.’
‘I don’t know anything.’
‘But you knew the señor.’
She said nothing.
‘Not a very nice man from all accounts. And remember what he was like the first time I came here? Far too important to bother to be pleasant.’
‘It’s not right to talk when he’s dead.’
‘Death doesn’t turn an unpleasant man into a pleasant one. He spoke to both of us as if we were ignorant peasants. It can’t have been much fun working here.’
‘It wasn’t.’
He had finally gained her interest.
‘I told Rosalía I couldn’t stand any more. She said I was stupid. He wasn’t here much of the time and all we had to do was keep the place clean; I wouldn’t find another job as easy . . . Not that she wasn’t always saying what she thought of bringing all those women to the house.’
‘Is Rosalía the cook?’
‘Been ill for three days now. I had to cook for the señor and he kept saying it was awful
. . . It was his last meal.’ Her voice rose.
‘Did he bring a lot of women here?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that upset Rosalía? Is she very strait-laced?’
‘Always thinking nasty and you know why? Jealous, that’s what. No man’s ever wanted to dent a mattress with her. Goes on about Pablo and me all the time. Not that there’s any reason to do so.’
‘Of course not. Were the women English?’
‘Most of’em. Except for the French woman who dresses like . . . like she was on the catwalk. If I ever wore some of the dresses I’ve seen her in, Rosalía would shout “puta” at me for what I was showing.’
‘It’s fashionable to be generous.’
‘Her man can’t think much of her since he don’t care what she shows.’
‘She’s married?’
‘And the husband’s rich if all the jewellery on her is real. You’d have thought he’d take more care to know what she’s up to.’
‘Who is she?’
‘Her name’s Sophie.’
‘Sophie who?’
‘Never heard her called anything else. Rosalía knows, but all she ever says to me is, “What a slut!”’
‘You’ve not met the husband?’
‘Rosalía says he was with her the first time she came to a party, but I didn’t see him. And seeing the time she spent here, maybe he’s not around any more.’
‘Were any of the other girlfriends married?’
‘One or two were, but I can’t rightly say more. Every time one of the marrieds turned up, Rosalía went on and on about him being so wicked, he had one foot in hell already.’
The fate of anyone who enjoyed life? ‘Do you know the names of any of the marrieds?’
‘One of them was like Raquel.’
‘Rachel?’
‘Could be.’
‘What was her surname?’
‘Wouldn’t know. None of them had anything to do with the likes of us.’
Clearly there were several husbands who had good reason to dislike Tyler intently. ‘Tell me about yesterday.’
Her nervousness returned.
‘When did you start work?’
‘I suppose it was maybe seven thirty . . . I slept a bit late.’
‘That can happen, especially in the heat. Since Rosalía was ill at home, did you prepare the señor’s breakfast?’
‘When he phoned down to say he wanted it, I made the toast and coffee.’
‘Where did he eat?’
‘Had breakfast in bed and it didn’t matter if he had one of his women with him.’ She briefly sniggered. ‘Wasn’t half a laugh, seeing them trying to hide their faces.’
‘What did you do during the morning?’
‘Started cleaning the downstairs rooms. Didn’t have to worry about lunch since he said he was going out.’
‘Did anything unusual happen during the morning?’
‘No.’
He was about to ask her another question, when she said: ‘Hang on. I don’t seem to be able to remember anything now . . . Four people came early and said they wanted to speak to the señor.’
‘Male or female?’
‘Two of each.’
‘Did you know them?’
‘No.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Asked them their names and one of them told me, used the internal telephone to tell the señor.’
‘What was the name?’
‘Can’t remember.’
‘It’ll come back to you soon. When it does, tell me. Did the señor come down and speak to them?’
‘Said I was to tell them to go away or he’d have them thrown off his land.’
‘An odd way to behave.’
‘He was often like that.’
‘Perhaps he was afraid the two men were husbands with reason to see him.’
‘Can’t say.’
‘How did they react when you told them he wouldn’t see them?’
‘They talked excitedly and argued, then left.’
‘Talked in what language?’
‘English.’
‘Could you understand what they were saying?’
‘I did English at school, but they talked too fast.’
‘They argued, so perhaps they were very upset by his refusal?’
‘One of’em was. Acted like she was going to come in and see him whatever I said, but the man with her persuaded her to leave.’
‘They drove away?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you say what make of car they were in and what its registration number was?’
She shook her head.
Was this an event of some consequence, or of none? The most likely explanation had to be that they were two married couples who had known Tyler in England and were hoping to be entertained by him. He had refused to meet them, because he disliked them or was annoyed by the obvious attempt to milk his hospitality.
‘Have you ever seen a gun in the house?’
She shook her head, fiddled with the edge of her apron.
‘Did you hear the shots?’
She shook her head again; her lips were tight as she tried to control her emotions.
Es Teneres was built with thick walls of stone, so sound would not travel. If she had been in a room well away from the library, she would not be expected to hear them.
‘After the two couples left, you did not hear or see anyone enter the house?’
‘No.’
If the intruder had entered quietly, there was no reason to doubt she would not have heard him.
‘There’s nothing more to ask you, Julia. It’s been very brave of you to tell me what you have . . . By the way, is Rosalía still ill?’
‘She’s back at work and looks like nothing’s the matter, but if you listen to her, she ought to be in hospital.’
She hurried out of the room. He, more slowly, made his way to the kitchen. He introduced himself to Rosalía, asked her how she was, heard a list of symptoms from which she was suffering. Like so many of her generation, she would be flattered to be called merely ‘plump’. A youth of hardship and later an ever-increasing abundance of food had tested her self-control and found it wanting. Her face was lined. By the age of eight, she would have worked in the fields, digging, weeding, irrigating, helping her family earn a poor living from the smallholding of land.
She stood by the double-oven electric stove, on the ceramic hobs of which were a casserole, a frying pan and a saucepan of boiling water. Since cooks sought and responded to praise, he said: ‘Something smells delicious.’
There was no reaction.
‘Is it a special meal?’
‘With him dead?’ she asked sarcastically. ‘I suppose you think we don’t have to eat?’
‘Then you are all going to eat ambrosia.’
‘Never heard of it. Potaje de garbanzos y espinacas, that’s what it is.’
He was surprised, since the smell had suggested something far grander. Chickpeas remained chickpeas however they were cooked. Even Dolores had to work hard to make them palatable. ‘I’m having a chat with everyone to learn what happened.’
‘Then find someone else to talk to while I do the cooking.’ She dropped several leaves of spinach into the boiling water.
‘I’ve already had a word with Julia.’
‘That girl has only one thought in her head.’
‘She mentioned the señor quite often entertained ladies.’
‘She knows too much about entertaining.’
‘She thought some of the ladies were married.’
‘There were three who even lacked the shame to remove their rings.’
‘There was one lady who came here quite often.’
‘Many came far too often, to their eternal damnation.’ She dropped cut onions and carrots, three spoonfuls of chickpeas and stock into a blender.
‘She was French.’
‘Mujer de las persianas verde!’ She started the blender and for a wh
ile, speech was impossible.
If he was to gain her cooperation, it was clear he should express his abhorrence of all that had happened. When the noise ceased, he said: ‘I can’t begin to understand how any woman could act as I’m told she did.’
Rosalía poured tomato sauce and the contents of the blender into the casserole, crossed to the double-door refrigerator and brought out four eggs, which she put in the boiling water with the spinach.
‘The señor can have had no thought for her husband.’
‘What adulterer has? He believed he had the right to take whatever he wanted.’
‘The myth of money.’
‘You think she is a myth?’
‘Seems too obvious to be that.’
‘She dresses to expose.’
To what extent? Not a question to ask now. ‘Was it his money that attracted the women?’
‘Without it, he would have been lucky if a zorra would have looked at him.’
‘So I suppose he might have been killed by a husband seeking revenge.’
‘If any of them was man enough.’
‘Did you hear the shots?’
‘When I was lying in my bed at home, wracked with pain?’
He apologized for his stupid mistake. He was surprised when, after adjusting the temperature under the casserole, she said: ‘Would you like some coffee?’
‘That would be very kind of you.’ He had won her favour by his attitude towards extramarital relations.
Moments later, she poured out two mugs of coffee, crossed to a cupboard and brought out a silver sugar bowl, to the refrigerator for a plastic bottle of milk. ‘You look like a man who enjoys his food.’
He accepted that as a compliment. ‘I certainly do.’
‘Then try one of the señor’s biscuits.’
She put a round tin on the table, removed the lid.
The biscuit, coated on one side with dark chocolate, was delicious. ‘Where did you get these?’
‘The señor bought them.’
‘From a local supermarket or one in Palma?’
‘You think he did his own shopping? You do not know that a man like him would never carry a shopping bag because it makes him as ordinary as everyone else? It was always me being told what to get and me being cursed when it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.’
‘Then where did he get them?’
‘From England, by post.’
‘Must make’em expensive.’
Sun, Sea and Murder Page 6