‘A good figure?’
‘Never seen one that gets you so . . . you know.’
‘Did you hear her name?’
‘When I was doing his garden and she was there, he was calling her something like “ma cherry” all the time.’
‘Chérie. An endearment, not a name.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘What do you call your wife?’
‘Ain’t none of your business.’
‘It was like saying cariño. You never heard him use an actual name?’
‘Could have done maybe.’
‘Can you remember what it was?’
Oller’s expression suggested this was a difficult task. Eventually, he said: ‘Could’ve been Susana.’
‘Or Sophie?’
‘Come to think about it, that’s more like what it was.’
‘Would you recognize her if you saw her again?’
‘You don’t see a prize dahlia and forget what it looks like.’
‘Can’t say I know what a dahlia is.’
‘Because you can’t accuse it of anything and lock it up.’
Alvarez smiled. ‘I’ll move on. You may have been of considerable help.’
‘Ain’t meaning to be.’
‘We all do things we don’t want to.’ Reporting to Salas was one of them, Alvarez thought, as he drove away.
FOURTEEN
‘Señor,’ Alvarez said over the phone, ‘I should like to report I have spoken again to Señor Howes.’
‘And?’ was Salas’s sole comment.
‘He admits he was a policeman before he retired.’
‘Which was obvious.’
‘Only if one—’
‘There is not the time to listen to an endless, meandering and unintelligible comment from you. I have to drive to Palma by mid afternoon.’
Alvarez looked at his watch; it was a little after twelve.
‘Has he confessed the alibi he gave Drew was falsified?’
‘He admits Blaise Newcome was his stepson, but insists despite that he was, and is, not lying. Señor and Señora Drew were with them on Thursday, from the morning to the evening.’
‘It seems you have carried out your interrogation with normal incompetence.’
‘Señor, it might well be the truth and they were together then.’
‘There are those, content to speak in meaningless clichés, who would answer, pigs might fly.’
‘They do, in aeroplanes.’
‘Then they are being flown, they are not flying.’
‘Surely one says one is flying to Barcelona, not that one is being flown there?’
‘There are many, of whom you are unfortunately one, who would.’
‘In normal conversation, one often speaks colloquially—’
‘Thereby showing either slackness or lack of education.’
‘These days, if one does speak with formal correctness, one is likely to be regarded with amusement.’
‘You regard me with amusement?’
‘Of course not.’
‘You have provided a prime example of the unthinking sloppiness of the speech of the common man.’
‘I once heard the Duc de Paguera say—’
‘Whenever you make a report, you confuse yourself and irritate the listener by discussing matters which have absolutely no connection with what the report is supposed to be about.’
‘I should just like to make the point that colloquial speech can say in a few words what would take many times that number in formal speech.’
‘Have you finished?’
‘And you disparaged as a meaningless cliché the expression you used.’
‘Purely as an example. You will ring off immediately, ring back in a quarter of an hour’s time, by when you might be able to deliver a report which will consist only of matters germane.’
Alvarez replaced the receiver. He opened the bottom right-hand desk drawer, poured himself a reviving brandy.
He dialled, said he wished to speak to the superior chief.
‘Señor, I have questioned Señor Howes and he insists Señor and Señora Drew were with them throughout the relevant time on Thursday. I asked him if he had been a policeman and he admitted this.’
‘Do you intend to repeat everything you have already said?’
‘I thought I would start at the beginning for the sake of clarity. Also, it sometimes helps both the speaker and the listener to go over something twice.’
‘In your case, it confuses. I will ask you the questions; you will answer them, as shortly and concisely as you have the capacity to do. Was anything said when you interviewed Howes to suggest he was lying about the alibi?’
‘No. The only thing was that he twice was having a row with his wife. Whether that carries any significance, I don’t know.’
‘A row about what?’
‘I couldn’t make out any of the words. But it was strange he should draw attention by arguing when I was there.’
‘Your presence guarantees disturbance. Howes now admits he is the stepfather of Blaise Newcome?’
‘Was.’
‘Was what?’
‘The stepfather. Blaise is unfortunately dead, so Howes isn’t the stepfather, he was. In your previous call, you stressed the necessity of being factually and linguistically correct.’
‘Which is why I now point out that it was not a call from me, it was you who phoned. Have you failed to make any significant progress in your investigations?’
‘I am not certain.’
‘The rest of us can be.’
‘When I left Guillet—’
‘Where?’
‘As you may remember, señor, that is the name of the villa Howes is renting.’
‘Anyone but you would have understood my question was intended to remind you to explain the relevance of what you were about to say.’
‘What happened was I was about to get into my car after talking to Howes, when a man, Ollers, called out and came across, wanted to know if I was . . . if I was conducting a surveillance of the house. When I asked him why he should think that possible, he explained that when Señora Howes was away in England, Señor Howes had entertained a lady.’
‘You are suggesting?’
‘It was the entertainment a man likes to offer when his wife is away.’
‘You are unable to accept it might be of the purest nature?’
Shades of what he had said to Ollers! ‘I suppose that’s just possible.’
‘Your mind lives in darkness, as it is averse to light.’
‘From her description, I doubt they had coffee and croissants.’
‘You have met her?’
‘No, señor.’
‘Then your attitude reflects the regrettable desire to believe the worst.’
‘Ollers said she possessed unusual qualities.’
‘You have yet to explain who that man is.’
‘He looks after several of the gardens of the villas and chalets that are rented out to tourists.’
‘You no doubt meant to mention his occupation at the end of the report?’
‘He saw her and describes her as a woman who would tempt a saint.’
‘An ignorant description. A saint is beyond temptation.’
‘She dresses very expensively.’
‘Many women dress very expensively,’ Salas said, calling his wife to mind. ‘There is, by chance, some reason for telling me all this?’
‘Do you remember the evidence of the staff at Es Teneres?’
‘Do not judge my memory by yours.’
‘They mentioned a French woman who for a time was so often in Tyler’s company. I wonder if she is the woman Tyler saw.’
‘Why should she be?’
‘I have the feeling she might be.’
‘Should that be classified as inspiration or hallucination?’
‘A hunch.’
‘You have provided not one simple fact to suggest the two ladies might
be the same person.’
‘The long, blonde, wavy hair.’
‘Of which there has been no previous mention.’
‘She is very attractive.’
‘A meaningless description since attraction is in the eye of the beholder.’
‘Señor, isn’t that another cliché?’
‘You mistakenly regard that remark as clever?’
‘Wouldn’t it have to be a great coincidence for two women of the same physical description to have contact, however slight, with persons connected with the case?’
‘The description you have provided could apply to very many women.’
‘But not when you add that she possesses qualities which instantly grip a man.’
‘Qualities, of whatever nature, are incapable of physically gripping a man.’
‘She wears unusual clothes.’
‘Women do little else in this day and age.’
‘They can be quite revealing.’
‘Regrettably, that also is not unusual with the lower classes and those females who think themselves to be celebrities. Have you questioned her to learn if there is the slightest truth in your . . . hunch, did you call it?’
‘I haven’t had time to identify her or find out if she still lives here or has returned to France.’
‘Why should she have done so?’
‘She is very probably French.’
‘I don’t remember your telling me that. So this woman, who should not mistakenly be called a lady, a wraith in your mind, is in some way involved in the murder of Tyler even before her name is known? You strain the meaning of possible.’
‘Señor, I have always understood that when conducting an investigation, one should consider everything and anything.’
‘Which will explain why your career has shown so few successes.’
‘I am convinced she is worth pursuing.’
‘I am uninterested in your convictions.’
‘If she did have fun with Señor Howes, she should at least surely be questioned.’
‘You are now comparing adultery with fun?’
‘For the adulterers.’
‘Your mind descends even from the depths which it has long occupied. You will follow leads which are relevant, not those which attract you because of their nature. Have you anything else to report?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘A confused mind is certain of nothing,’ were Salas’s last words.
The sun was kind to Es Teneres. Shadows softened the sharp lines of the house, made it appear less stark, more welcoming.
Higuero was leaning his hands on the haft of a mattock, lightly dug into the soil, as he regarded a flowerbed in which bind weed was beginning to wind around miniature roses of many colours.
‘Are you waiting for someone to come along and do your work for you?’ Alvarez asked.
‘Ain’t no use you offering. Needs someone who knows what work is.’
‘That bind weed is choking the roses.’
‘Do I tell you how to do your job? Leave me to do mine.’
‘Leaning on a mattock?’
‘Where’s the difference with you just standing there?’
‘Let’s move into the shade.’
‘Why?’
‘So I can ask some questions.’
‘You ain’t finished bothering people even after all this time?’
‘And won’t until I find out who shot Tyler.’
‘He’ll be forgotten long before you manage that.’
Alvarez crossed to one of the many oleander trees, stood in its shade. Higuero, to prove his independent spirit, did not join him for several minutes.
‘Remember telling me about the women who used to come here?’Alvarez asked.
‘No.’
‘There was one in particular got you excited. Long, wavy, blonde hair, perfect figure, clothes that showed some of what’s usually hidden.’
‘What about her?’
‘I need to talk to her.’
‘Not heard it called that before.’
‘You can help me find her.’
‘Do your own dirty work.’
‘I need to talk to her.’
‘Wasting your time.’
‘So you’ve suggested before. Do you know where she lives?’
‘With her husband for some of the time, maybe.’
‘Where do they both live?’
‘No idea.’
‘Tyler never mentioned her?’
‘Him? Never spoke except to say what I was doing wrong or why had I left work early. Seemed to think that if he couldn’t see me, I wasn’t working.’
‘Intelligent man. The car that nearly ran you down was a black estate, maybe an Astra, with the registration number 8533.’
‘What about it?’
‘Could it have been dark green?’
‘Then I’d have said dark green.’
‘You’ve never noted how sunlight can appear to alter colour?’
‘Ain’t never seen an orange grape.’
‘Suppose I say the car could have been a Peugeöt?’
Higuero shrugged his shoulders.
‘You’d swear on oath it was an Astra rather than a Peugeöt or Ford, even though it turned to go into the drive so quickly you didn’t have time to get clear, were knocked off your Mobylette, and were shocked?’
‘All I can say is, I reckoned it was an Astra.’
‘You didn’t read any of the letters in the registration number—’
‘Nor would you have done if you’d just escaped being killed by a millimetre.’
‘Consider things very carefully. Naturally, you tried to read the number to report the dangerous driving. What you won’t have realized was how shocked you were and how shock can alter one’s abilities.’
‘What’s all that supposed to be about?’
‘I’m asking you to consider whether it’s possible that the number you saw had only one three in it.’
‘I tell as I remember.’
Memory was often fickle; it could be altered by hope, despair, fear, an unacknowledged connection . . . Ignore Higuero’s stubborn refusal to admit he could be mistaken. There was reason, if small, to consider it might have been Howe’s car. Yet what was the possibility that cars with threes in their registration numbers were owned by two people who might be involved in the murder of Tyler? Yet had he not used a similar coincidence to propose that the two women with long blonde hair were one and the same? One could not run with the rabbit and hunt with the hawk.
‘Have you finished so as I can get on with me work?’ Higuero asked.
‘Did you hear the shots last Thursday?’
‘Working out here, I don’t hear nothing from inside.’
‘And you’ve no idea whether Tyler ever had a handgun.’
‘You’re asking?’
‘Did he?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell me how you know that.’
‘I was going home when I found I’d forgot something, so I came back. Heard shooting, had a look around and he was with one of his women, firing at a row of flowerpots. Missed the bloody lot. Every time the gun went off, she cried out like he was trying to put his hand up her skirt.’
‘Describe the gun. Was it an automatic or a revolver? Do you know the difference?’
‘Think I’m as ignorant as you lot? An automatic. Didn’t look big enough to do much harm, but likely it would ruin a man’s chances.’
‘Where was he shooting?’
‘Behind them oleanders.’
‘Show me.’
They walked along the line of oleanders and round to an area of untilled land, used for holding garden rubbish during the summer until it was permissible to have a bonfire in the autumn. At the end was a grass-covered mound, half a metre high, of earth dug out when the foundations of the garden shed had been laid. At the foot of the mound were several broken flowerpots.
‘Thought you said he didn’t hit any?’ Alvarez remarke
d.
‘Probably kicked’em when he finished missing’em.’
Alvarez searched the ground and found twelve empty cartridge cases. ‘I need a bag to put these into. Have you something?’
Higuero walked over to the shed, took a key out of his pocket, opened the door and went inside; he returned with a crumpled plastic shopping bag.
Alvarez dropped the cases into the bag. Tyler had possessed a small automatic, had been shot by a small calibre automatic. Even Salas would have to accept the probability that it was the same gun. So the projected picture of the murderer having planned the murder, was probably incorrect.
‘Where’s the telephone directory?’ Alvarez asked as he stepped into the dining room.
‘Where it always is,’ Jaime answered, as he put his glass down on the table.
‘I can’t see it.’
‘What d’you want it for?’
‘I need to find a French woman.’
Dolores appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, the parted strings of beads hanging down on either side of her. ‘You disgrace the house by such an admission.’
‘If you think—’ Alvarez began.
‘My thoughts are my own.’
‘Occasionally,’ Jaime muttered.
‘You said something?’
He raised his glass and drank.
Alvarez spoke carefully. ‘It is possible that a woman who is probably French can help me in my case. That is the only reason for wishing to get in touch with her.’
‘And you will say that it is chance she is young, attractive and sufficiently naive to believe you are younger than you look.’
‘I’ve no idea what her age is; she may be very attractive, or look like Matilde.’
‘As if the poor woman is responsible for what she looks like! Men have no sympathy except for themselves. Lunch will be in fifteen minutes and you’ – she looked directly at Jaime – ‘will not refill your glass.’
‘I’ve hardly drunk anything,’ he complained.
‘By your standards. By mine, there will already be many clouds in your mind.’ She turned, swept into the kitchen.
Jaime watched Alvarez pour wine into his own glass, pushed his glass across so that it could be refilled by someone else, thus obeying his wife’s command.
‘What’s the meal?’ Alvarez asked, as he replaced the bottle on the table.
‘Can’t say . . . This French woman – you’ve known her for a long time?’
‘I’ve never met her.’
Sun, Sea and Murder Page 13