They stopped smiling as they recognized authority, even if not in uniform and uncertain what was the authority.
He switched to Mallorquin. ‘Who’s in charge?’
One of the young women indicated the man.
‘I want some information.’
‘It’s all set out in our brochure—’
‘Who rented this car?’ He put a sheet of paper down on the counter.
‘I’m not certain—’
‘Then find someone who is.’
‘Who . . . who are you?’
‘Cuerpo General de Policia.’
‘I didn’t realize . . . You want to know who rented the car with the number you have there?’
Power might tend to corrupt, but there were times when corruption could be welcomed if it was to one’s benefit. ‘I’ve other work to do, so I’ll return later for the name and address.’
‘Hang on . . . I mean, could you wait a moment?’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve just read what you’ve written. You’ve only given us the numbers, not the letters.’
‘Which is because I do not know what those are. But if you have a black Astra, or any other estate whose registration number ends in those figures, I want to know.’
Back in his car, he debated whether to drive to Los Dos Pescadors or to walk since it was only two roads down. In the present heat, caution was necessary. He drove.
The bar had not been modernized, enlarged or altered to attract tourists; indeed, tourists were hardly welcomed since they tended to disturb the locals, although if they entered in search of local colour, they were served at front bar prices. Pensioned fishing gear hung on the walls, as did many old photographs of fishing boats and the men who had worked them. Three men had been circled in red. They had died at sea.
Thirty minutes later, he returned to the rental company, where his reception was markedly different and he was welcomed with smiles.
‘I’m afraid we don’t have a black estate, Inspector,’ the blond man said, ‘but we do have a dark green Astra which has the four figures you gave us in its registration.’
Alvarez scratched his chin, which reminded him he had not shaved that morning. ‘Perhaps we were given the wrong ones.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘A dark green can appear black when the sun’s shining directly on it and at an angle.’
‘Of course.’ If he had ever known that, he had forgotten.
‘I’ve had the name and address written out for you.’
The redhead – he regretted he had never had the chance of learning whether the reputation of redheads was justified – handed him a sheet of paper. ‘I’ve printed out the date when Señor Drew first hired the car, which he still has, Inspector.’
He thanked her, left, returned to his car for which he should have bought a parking ticket – since it was summer – but had not. No notification of a fine was pinned between windscreen and wiper blade.
Once seated behind the wheel, he reread the name and address. Timothy Drew, Aparthotel Vora La Mer, Port Llueso. Car first rented several days before.
To save making a U-turn in the face of considerable traffic, he went down to the small roundabout on the front, then back up the road to Llueso. He was almost up to the turning off to Cala Roig when he swore, using one of the more colourful Mallorquin phrases, braked to a sudden stop, causing a van behind him to pull out sharply. The driver shouted through his open window as he passed with horn blowing continuously. How, Alvarez wondered, could his mind not have immediately fastened on the significance of the name Drew?
TEN
‘What’s brought you here?’ the cabo on the duty desk called out. ‘Hasn’t anyone told you it’s a Sunday?’
Alvarez walked up the stairs a shade too quickly and had to pause for breath before entering his room. He sat. Above all, he must make it clear to Salas he had understood the significance of the name immediately. He had a little brandy to help his memory, phoned.
‘Yes?’ said a man.
‘Is that the superior chief’s office?’
‘Did you dial his number?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then quite likely this is his office.’
‘I was expecting to speak to the superior chief’s secretary who is a woman—’
‘That is a matter for discussion.’
‘Presumably, she is away?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the superior chief is away as well?’
‘No. You want to speak to him?’
‘Not really.’
‘Putting you through.’
‘Yes?’ said Salas, with his usual belligerence.
‘Señor, I have—’
‘Forgotten to name yourself yet again.’
‘I thought you would have been told who was calling.’
‘I was not.’
‘I am Inspector Alvarez.’
‘You imagine that is not obvious from your inability to follow orders?’
‘Then . . . why ask who I am?’
‘I have already made that clear. Why are you phoning?’
‘I may have traced the car, which was hired.’
‘What car?’
‘Which drove out of Es Teneres on Thursday afternoon soon after two. That is within the window of time in which one can be fairly certain Tyler was shot. I have been in touch with Dr Font and given him the news about the air-conditioning unit—’
‘How does that affect the car?’
‘It doesn’t. What I mean—’
‘Memory tells me this conversation bears a strong resemblance to a previous one.’
‘I don’t quite follow that.’
‘Do you follow anything? I then explained that when making a report, an officer must initially identify those about whom he is reporting and the reason for his doing so. Since my words have failed to trigger any response from you, it is probable I failed to put things sufficiently simply for you to understand.’
‘I presumed—’
‘It is presumptuous as well as irresponsible of you to presume.’
‘Things can be difficult—’
‘For you to do anything efficiently, impossible. Are you aware it is Sunday?’
‘It has been mentioned, señor.’
‘You see no reason for not wasting my time?’
Rest for whom?
‘You will write your report instead of irritating me with mindless mutterings.’
‘Señor, I think you should know right away there has to be doubt about the car even though its registration number does end in three-three-three.’
‘As far as I am concerned, the car is in complete doubt since I have no idea as to what is your reference.’
‘I have spoken to one of the firms in the port which hire cars and they have an Astra estate whose registration ends in three-three-three.’
‘I am grateful to you for troubling to inform me of the fact.’
‘There is a problem.’
‘You surprise me.’
‘The car in question is dark green, not black.’
‘Then either the reported colour was wrong or one of the figures was.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘You are introducing a new form of logic?’
‘Did you know that in sharp sunlight, dark green can appear black if seen only briefly?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then why—’
‘Well?’
‘Nothing, señor.’
‘I asked you only minutes ago to cease irritating me. Name the man who was driving the car.’
‘Timothy Drew.’
There was a silence.
‘You are unable to understand I might wish to know what his evidence is?’
‘When I write my report—’
‘I want to hear it now.’
‘I haven’t yet spoken to him.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he is Timot
hy Drew.’
‘You delight in non sequiturs?’
‘I . . . I’m not certain.’
‘Do you always hesitate to question someone because he is who he is?’
‘But in this case I think he is.’
‘Is what?’
‘Timothy Drew.’
‘Have you been drinking heavily?’
‘It’s odds on, señor, that he is the father.’
‘Into what fields of incomprehensibility are you now about to stray?’
‘Perhaps if I mention England?’
‘Why not Easter Island?’
‘England is the beginning.’
‘You will reach the end as quickly as possible.’
‘If you remember—’
‘Your repeated inferences that I do not have an excellent memory have become insolent.’
‘But I’m trying to be helpful.’
‘You disguise that fact with skill.’
‘One of the two people knocked down and killed by the car driven by Tyler in England was Irene Drew. It surely has to be more than a coincidence that there now is some reason to suspect a Timothy Drew of having shot Tyler.’
‘To point out the obvious is only wasting still more time.’
‘You didn’t seem to follow what I was saying, señor.’
‘You cannot understand why I might appear to see no connection between the names?’
‘It seemed you didn’t. Naturally, you would very soon have done so.’
‘Your effrontery is obnoxious, your servile assurance, contemptible. Incredibly, I need yet again to explain, even if to do so will be as productive as filling with water a bucket which has a large hole in the bottom. I delayed commenting on the obvious in the hope that for once you would make an efficient report. I am an illogical optimist . . . I have as yet had no explanation as to why you have not questioned Drew.’
‘I thought you should first be informed, since you would wish to consider our next move.’
‘A man who drives wildly out of the grounds of a house in which a murder has just been committed does not immediately become a suspect? When it is learned he is the father of the girl who was mown down by a car driven by the murdered man, he becomes the prime suspect. Such a suspect is not to be questioned rigorously?’
‘I am not so certain of all that.’
‘Then I suggest you find a job in which your level of intelligence is acceptable.’
‘How could Drew know who was the driver of the Bentley? The English police had sharp suspicions which, of course, is why they asked for our help, but they would never have named Tyler to Drew before Tyler was arrested.’
‘Your mistake is to judge the English police as exhibiting the same professionalism as the Cuerpo. You will question Drew.’
‘Yes, señor.’
‘Immediately.’ Salas rang off.
On a Sunday, ‘immediately’ had to mean after a siesta and tea. He had hoped to have the pleasure of proving Salas had missed the significance of the name, but the superior chief had somehow managed to scorn the possibility and blame him for his inefficiency. He should have remembered that a mouse did not challenge a wolf.
Aparthotel Vora La Mer, on the corner of the road, was within two hundred metres of the beach. A pleasant, if artistically uninspired building, it was U-shaped with the two wings enclosing a large swimming pool. The noise from the swimmers reached into the office, to the right of the entrance doors.
‘Drew?’ said the manager, whose features bore the strain of coping with tourists.
‘Timothy Drew.’
The manager ran a stubby forefinger down a column of names. ‘Mr and Mrs Drew, suite G.’
‘He has a wife here?’
‘As you suggest, unnecessary. Many young ladies stay during the summer.’
‘Where’s suite G?’
‘The last on the right as you go to the pool.’
He passed the restaurant and went into the open, walked down the right-hand side of the pool, in which were many children who, were one to judge from their cries, were killing or being killed. As he knocked on the door marked G, a heavy splash of water just missed him. He turned to see a young boy duck under the corner of the pool’s edge. Children were a blessing, but not all were blessed.
The door was opened by a woman probably on the edge of middle age. Linen shirt and shorts made it obvious she maintained physical fitness. Her hair was brown, short, razor cut, her face round, her features pleasant but marked by a large mole on her left cheek. In the mysterious way in which judgements were made, he became certain she was a woman of warmth and compassion, possessed of an inner steel not easily broken by the bitter episodes of life. ‘Mrs Drew?’ he asked in English.
‘That’s me.’
‘I am Inspector Alvarez of the Cuerpo General de Policia. I should like to speak to your husband if that is convenient?’ His words startled and shocked her.
‘Why, what do you want . . .?’ Her tone was shrill.
He didn’t answer.
She began to overcome her panic. ‘He’s gone out. I’ll see if he’s in the café.’
Sadly, he thought that if his investigation proceeded as seemed likely, she was going to suffer further tragedy. No judge could accept Drew had justification for Tyler’s murder. ‘I need to ask him a question or two,’ he answered. It was kindness, and perhaps a touch of cowardice, that had prompted the meaningless answer.
‘Please sit.’ She left.
Through the window, which could be covered by a closed Venetian blind, but had not been, he watched her walk along the poolside. How much courage did it take to live after the death of one’s child? She knew the answer.
As he waited, he looked around himself. He was surprised by the quality of the accommodation. The sitting room was reasonably well furnished; through the open doorways he could see, or infer, two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. Unsurprisingly, aparthotels were becoming ever more popular with tourists, ever more disliked by hoteliers. They offered a family a financial saving compared to the cost of a hotel, provided they did not eat out often. A wife might complain about having to cook when on holiday, but that was her job.
Drew, wearing bathing trunks, closely followed by Sandra, who was holding his hand, entered.
‘My husband, Inspector,’ she said.
Observing the strange custom of foreigners, Alvarez rose to his feet.
‘Sandra says you want to know something? Before we find out what, may I offer you coffee or a drink?’
Reasonably handsome, brown curly hair not yet receding, high forehead, broad shoulders, no hint of a beer belly. ‘Thank you, but no, senor.’ In the past, he had had reason to wonder what the English used to make coffee.
‘My wife was about to go out . . .’ Drew began.
‘No, I wasn’t,’ she said quickly.
‘You’re forgetting you had to buy something at the chemist.’
She looked at him, released her hand, unwillingly picked up a shopping bag and purse, left. Drew said he’d change quickly, went into a bedroom. He returned, sat, fidgeted.
‘Would you mind if I have a drink?’
‘Why should I, senor?’
‘You’ve refused, so I’ll be drinking on my own.’
Another illogical British taboo? ‘If that distresses you, may I change my mind?’
‘What would you like? If I haven’t got it, I can nip into the bar and get it.’
‘A coñac with just ice, please.’
‘Nothing easier.’ Drew stood, went through to the kitchen. When he returned, he handed across one of two filled glasses.
‘You . . .’ Drew stopped.
‘Yes, señor?’
‘You haven’t said why you are here.’
‘I apologize for being so remiss. As you may have heard, an Englishman, who lived not far from here, was shot dead on Thursday.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘Perhaps it was not in the local English paper.’
‘I wasn’t aware there was one.’
‘And it may not have been mentioned on the television.’
‘There’s English telly in the lounge, but we haven’t bothered to watch. We came here to relax.’
‘You have been stressed?’
‘Work becomes ever more difficult, thanks to a government whose aim is to eradicate profit. Why . . . why do you think I might have heard about the shooting?’
‘I have come to ask if you knew the victim.’
‘You haven’t said who he was.’
‘Cyril Leo Tyler.’
Drew shrugged his shoulders. ‘The name doesn’t ring any bells.’
‘You have never met him?’
‘No.’
‘And you have not visited Es Teneres?’
‘What’s that?’
‘The home of Cyril Tyler.’
‘I would not have been to his home if I had never met him.’
‘He might not have been at home which meant you did not meet him.’
‘Why would I go to somewhere I’d never heard of to meet someone I didn’t know?’
‘It is a question which I hope you may be able to answer.’
‘I don’t understand what this is all about.’
‘You cannot guess?’
‘I’m English, he was English, so I must know him? Is that it? God knows how many English live here, but to the best of my knowledge, I haven’t met a single one of them.’
‘Have you rented a car whilst here?’
‘Yes.’
‘What make, type and colour is it?’
‘A green estate. I think it’s an Astra.’
‘Were you out in it on Thursday?’
‘We’ve been out in it every day. You said this man was killed on Thursday. Are you suggesting there’s any significance in our having been in the car that day?’
‘That is what I hope to find out.’
Drew drained his glass, stood. ‘D’you want another?’ His tone had become far less easy.
‘Thank you, señor. As we say, August is a thirsty month.’
Drew left, soon returned, handed a glass to Alvarez, sat, drank.
‘Where did you drive on Thursday?’
‘As far as I can remember, into the mountains.’
‘You took the Laraix road?’
‘I can’t say what road it was.’
‘You did not visit the monastery?’
Sun, Sea and Murder Page 9