A Darker Night

by P J Brooke

  ‘Precisely. The demo could turn into a protest against these developments.’

  ‘These developments?’ queried Max.

  ‘I should also share with you that, in return for the cancellation of some unpaid taxes, Archbishop Doria has given the council some land behind the Abadía de Sacromonte which is needed for a road to the hotel. Obviously the hotel will need a decent access road …’

  ‘Of course,’ said López.

  ‘But as you know,’ continued Grandes, ‘there’s still all the fuss and bother over completing the ring road around Granada.’

  ‘We don’t need to go into detail,’ interrupted Bonila. ‘Our problem is that these radicals now have a concrete focus for their anger, and that could mean big trouble.’

  Inspector Jefe Davila opened his mouth again. ‘Why don’t we just arrest Francisco Gómez now?’

  The great and good at the table turned towards him, impressed.

  ‘I can tell you all that Gómez is in the frame for a suspicious death. And even if he’s not guilty, we’ve got enough to hang on to the bugger till this whole thing’s over.’

  ‘Great idea, Enrique,’ said General López. ‘Why didn’t you say so earlier?’

  ‘But sir,’ said Max, looking straight at Bonila, ‘arresting Señor Gómez would only inflame the situation.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Chávez.

  Davila flushed.

  ‘Okay. Let’s leave that for now,’ said Bonila. ‘Felipe, can you summarize our plans?’

  ‘I’ve asked Max and Sub-Inspector Belén to attend the conference to identify any potential troublemakers and any changes to the approved format for the demonstration or the march. Julia will be acting as liaison with their press office and has already had a preliminary meeting with them, and I’ll be briefing all relevant staff on our side between now and Monday. I have a separate meeting with General López’s people tomorrow, and we have a final meeting on Monday morning.’

  ‘Good,’ said Bonila. ‘Any questions? No. Vale. Thank you all for coming. Oh, Enrique, Max, could you both stay behind for a minute?’

  The others filed out of the room. Julia gave Max a big smile. ‘See you at the conference. Though of course, I won’t recognize you without your uniform.’

  Bonila closed the door. ‘Enrique, Max’s priority is the conference and demo. You’ll have to take over this Paco Maya case. Max can go back on to it once all these shenanigans are over.’

  ‘If you say so, sir.’

  ‘And I’m keeping in mind your option of arresting Francisco Gómez. That was a good suggestion.’

  Davila smiled.

  ‘Good. You can go.’

  Max walked up the stairs back to his office, dumped his papers, then went to one of his favourite bars in Plaza Trinidad. The pastries at the meeting had been awful. He ordered a caña to drink and a tasty bocadillo of chicken and anchovies while he waited for Roberto.

  The two Granada newspapers were on the counter. He took them both, and sat down at a table with his beer and sandwich. They were both running feature articles on the proposed development of Jesús del Valle, with pictures of the Alcalde and the Archbishop shaking hands, beaming at each other.

  ‘The Conclusion of a Satisfactory Deal,’ said Ideal.

  ‘A Friendly Handshake Seals a Deal,’ said Granada Hoy.

  There was very little critical comment.

  Funny, thought Max. Jorge hadn’t mentioned any of this. Maybe that was why he wanted a private conversation …

  Chapter 10

  Ten minutes later, Roberto arrived in the bar. ‘Good news, Max. The Espinosa brothers have been spotted in Nerja. I’ve got the mugshots here.’

  ‘Excelente. Let’s go before anybody changes their mind. I think this should be a plain-clothes job.’

  They left Granada on the motorway to Motril, past the brick and cement factories of Suspiro del Moro, the orchards of the Lecrin valley and then the construction works for the huge new dam below Diva.

  ‘I just don’t get it. The river’s pretty small so it’ll take years to fill up that dam,’ said Max.

  ‘They’re probably planning a whole new town just here, all the way to the coast. Or it’s another white elephant.’

  ‘Chances are it’s both, but someone’s making money. This valley used to be so pretty when I was a kid.’

  ‘You’re local?’

  ‘Sí y no. I grew up in Diva, then moved to Scotland when I was fifteen. I came back six or seven years ago.’

  ‘So you really notice the changes?’

  ‘Very much. So, what made you switch from the coast to Granada, Roberto?’

  ‘My wife’s a teacher. She’s from Granada, and always wanted to get back. She finally got a transfer to one of the Granada schools. But the only post I could get was with you guys.’

  ‘Some people have all the luck. What unit were you in before?’

  ‘Grupo de Delitos Económicos, the Anti-Corruption Unit.’

  ‘Interesante.’

  ‘It was. I did a bit of legwork for the guys in the money-laundering team.’

  ‘Ah sí. Serious stuff. That wouldn’t happen to be the Moby Dick operation, by any chance?’

  ‘Sí. It’s going to be huge when it breaks.’

  ‘Marbella’s going to hell. The council’s been a scandal ever since Gil and his pals took over the town hall. And the present lot are even worse,’ said Max.

  ‘Absolutamente. We’ve had wire taps on some of the crooks there, and the rot has spread all along the coast. Russian mafia, Latin American mafia, La Cosa Nostra … you name it, we’ve got it. Drug smuggling, money laundering … the works … on the back of the property boom. And we’re pretty sure it’s into Granada.’

  ‘That wouldn’t surprise me.’

  ‘Marbella’s impressive. Everyone’s bent. The Alcalde, local politicians, local government officials, businessmen, celebs, the banks, even the police.’

  ‘I’d hate to think it could get that bad in Granada.’

  ‘Max, do you think there could be seriously corrupt cops in Granada?’

  ‘You never know. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I’ve heard rumours.’

  They turned right towards the coast road. The old sugar cane plantations on the plain behind Motril were disappearing as the holiday homes advanced. But round another corner, the hills were still covered in avocado and chirrimoya orchards, and there was the sea, sparkling all the way to Africa.

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ said Roberto. ‘Enjoy it while you can. In ten years, every square inch of this coast will be covered with concrete.’

  They passed the great castle of Salobreña, standing proud on its hill, guarding the old trade routes to Africa. Holiday homes and hotels lined the coast road, and construction sites stretched into the lush green orchards.

  ‘I’ve got a meeting set up with a friend from the Anti-Drugs Unit from Málaga, a Teniente Luis Barril. He had a meeting with the Guardia Civil in Nerja, so we’ll see him as soon as he’s finished with the local guys.’

  The Guardia Civil was in a pretty nineteenth-century building in the old town of Nerja, in Calle San Miguel. They left the car in the courtyard and walked through an archway emblazoned with the old motto ‘Todo por la Patria’, ‘Everything for the Fatherland’.

  ‘Teniente Barril is expecting us,’ said Roberto to the desk officer.

  ‘I believe he is in office 34. May I suggest you telephone his mobile?’

  A tall, thin man greeted them at the top of the stairs.

  ‘Roberto … great to see you. How’s Rosa?’

  ‘She’s doing fine, and I’m going to be a dad.’

  ‘Roberto! Well done, man, well done. And Granada?’

  ‘Cold and wet just now. I’m missing the coast already. Sorry, Max. Luis, this is my colleague Max Romero.’

  Max smiled. ‘The desk officer downstairs didn’t seem too pleased to see us.’

  ‘There’s a problem. A couple of guys in the Gua
rdia got arrested in a drug raid. Madrid and ourselves did the arrest.’

  ‘Vale. I get the picture,’ said Roberto.

  ‘So we’re not exactly flavour of the month here. Best be careful what you tell them. Anyway, you are looking for a couple of guys who might be in Nerja?’

  Max handed over two photographs.

  ‘We’re looking for this pair, Gregorio and Mauricio Espinosa. They’re small-time dealers in Granada but we need to talk to them about a suspicious death, and we heard they may be here.’

  ‘They look vaguely familiar. I’ll check the photo archive.’

  Luis spent a few minutes running through a photo file on the computer.

  ‘Thought so … got a couple of shots of them going into the Hotel Reina del Sur. We’re pretty sure it’s a front for some drug baron. The hotel’s not far … I suggest you check it out.’

  ‘Gracias,’ said Max.

  ‘Come and see me again,’ Luis said to Roberto. ‘We’ll go for lunch, and I’ll give you all the gossip.’

  Max and Roberto drove along the sea front, and then inland. Reina del Sur was a gleaming palace, three kilometres out of town, in a prime spot on the coast. The huge lobby was splendid in marble and fine wood, and the reception desk was half hidden behind a grove of exotic plants. They showed the receptionist their badges, and asked if she recognized the two men in the photos.

  The receptionist paused. ‘I’ll have to call el director.’

  ‘I’m only asking if you’d seen them,’ Max said.

  ‘I have to call el director,’ she repeated.

  The manager came over. Max showed him the two photographs. He looked at them, and shook his immaculately coiffed head.

  ‘Can I see your register?’ asked Max.

  The manager hesitated.

  ‘It will be easier for you to agree now. Or maybe we’ll have to call in the drug squad,’ said Roberto. ‘And you know what they’re like.’

  ‘Okay,’ the manager agreed reluctantly.

  Max looked down the list of names. There they were, staying in room 64 on the second floor. Max noted down their DNI numbers and the car registration number. They’d been there since last Friday, the day Paco Maya died.

  Max pointed at the names. ‘Do you know where these two guests are now?’

  The receptionist nodded. ‘The key is here, so I presume they’re out. They are due to check out later today.’

  ‘We need to examine the room.’

  ‘Okay. But I have to come with you.’ The manager glanced up. ‘Ah. Don Rubén. I’ll be with you later.’

  Max turned round. Don Rubén was a short, powerfully built man, perhaps in his early fifties, with blue eyes and blond hair. His clothing was casual, but very expensive.

  ‘Right. Thank you, Javier.’ Don Rubén turned round sharply and walked out of the lobby.

  Room 64 was plush with a private terrace looking over the sea. There was a small bureau desk in the corner. Next to it was a Corte Inglés shopping bag from Granada, and a couple of sports bags had been left lying on a bed.

  ‘They’re still here,’ said Max. ‘Any idea when they might be back?’

  ‘No,’ the manager replied, with a shrug of the shoulders.

  ‘Do you have a car park?’ asked Roberto.

  ‘It’s round the back of the hotel.’

  ‘I’ll check the car,’ said Max to Roberto. ‘You wait in the lobby in case they turn up.’

  The number registered to the brothers was a black Nissan Pathfinder 4x4. Max carefully took pictures of the car and its tyres. Back in the lobby, Roberto was enjoying an excellent cup of coffee and a very fine sea view.

  ‘Their car’s in the car park. They can’t have gone far.’

  Roberto had another sip of his coffee. ‘What next?’

  ‘I’ll have a cup of coffee.’

  ‘The guy who spoke to the manager earlier – that’s Rubén Carrington, one of the coast’s wealthier residents. We’ve checked him out thoroughly. But we found nothing.’

  Max turned round to order just as Gregorio and Mauricio Espinosa strolled into the hotel lobby. They took one look at him and fled.

  ‘Policia,’ shouted Max. ‘Stop.’

  The two brothers ran across the beach. Roberto sprinted ahead, caught up with Gregorio and tackled him at the edge of the sea. Gregorio smacked Roberto hard on the cheek. Roberto winced, but hung on tightly. Max piled in, and snapped on the handcuffs. Mauricio turned up a track that ran down to the beach. Roberto phoned the Guardia Civil.

  ‘They’ll be along in a minute,’ he said. ‘They’ll pick him up. It’s a dead end.’

  They hauled Gregorio to his feet and marched him back to their car. Roberto was right. Fifteen minutes later, a police car arrived with Mauricio Espinosa inside.

  ‘We’ve got no grounds for detaining them here,’ said the officer.

  ‘No problem, they’re coming with us’ said Max. ‘We’ll be in touch.’

  The brothers sat impassively in the back of the car on the journey to Granada. They were both good-looking, but not in a pleasant way. Not a word passed between them on the journey. No request to phone wife, family – nothing.

  It was after eight when they reached the Granada police station. Once inside Gregorio Espinosa asked to phone his lawyer. ‘Mí abogado will be here tomorrow morning. He has to come up from the coast.’

  Max and Roberto looked at each other, amazed.

  ‘All right.’

  Navarro was just about to leave work.

  ‘We’ve got the bastards,’ Max told him. ‘Their lawyer will be here tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Well done. That should impress the judge. I’ll ring Inspector Jefe Davila. We’ll interview them tomorrow when their lawyer gets here. What happened to your jaw, Roberto?’

  ‘Gregorio Espinosa hit me while resisting arrest.’

  ‘That could be useful. Get it photographed and logged.’

  ‘Okay, Roberto,’ said Max. ‘I’m ravenous. Bonila’s pastries couldn’t feed a rabbit. That’s a thought. Barbecued rabbit with garlic. That would be nice.’

  Chapter 11

  At ten o’clock the next morning, Max and Roberto met the Espinosa brothers’ lawyer in the interview room. The lawyer was an older man, impeccably dressed in a dark green coat and a soft felt hat. The business card read ‘Pablo Guzmán de Sídonia’. De Sídonia smiled affably at Max.

  ‘I don’t think this should take too long. So perhaps we could begin now.’

  Max decided to start with Gregorio Espinosa and begin with the charge of assaulting police officers. Navarro and Davila joined them.

  Once the preliminaries had finished, the lawyer calmly declared that his clients had already agreed to accept the two minor charges of assaulting a police officer.

  Max was taken aback. He turned to Gregorio. ‘But if you’ve nothing to hide, why did you and your brother run away on both occasions?’

  ‘Well, in the Bar los Gitanos, you bloody scared us, pitching up all aggressive like. We’re gitanos … you know what you cops can be like. We’ve got witnesses.’

  ‘So what happened in Nerja, then?’

  ‘We were in Nerja to pick up a couple of barras of dope. We thought you’d come to get us on that.’

  ‘And who was the supplier you were planning to meet in Nerja?’

  ‘Never met the guy. Got this mobile number. Just about to phone when you pitched up. I thought it was a set-up.’

  ‘Do you still have the number?’ asked Roberto.

  ‘Sí.’ Gregorio put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Roberto phoned the number on his own mobile. There was no reply, no sound.

  ‘They’ll have taken the SIM card out by now,’ he commented. ‘So where did you get this famous number?’

  ‘Some guy in Almanjáyar.’

  ‘You’d never seen him before, of course.’

  ‘No, never.’

  ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen,’ said the lawyer. ‘My client als
o agrees that he was planning to purchase some hashish, but you, for your part, accept that the transaction had not taken place. And he will accept any reasonable charges you might wish to bring against him on this matter.’

  ‘Why didn’t you buy the stuff in Granada?’

  ‘We’ve had a previous conviction for dealing.’

  ‘So instead you drove all the way down to the coast, and stayed in an expensive hotel for five days, just to make a drug deal.’

  ‘That’s right. But we were also checking out some plumbing and tiling jobs, you know. We’re skilled tradesmen, and the money’s good on the coast.’

  The lawyer butted in. ‘Given that my client is willing to make a confession and sign it to that effect, I would have thought that would be sufficient. And he should now be released until his appearance before a judge.’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Max. ‘I have questions I want to ask him relating to a suspicious death.’

  ‘And my client is a suspect?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ interrupted Davila. ‘It’s just that we want to clear up a few loose ends.’

  The lawyer looked at Gregorio Espinosa. ‘My client would like a break in the interview to give us an opportunity to discuss this somewhat new development. We require half an hour.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Davila.

  Max and Roberto went for a cup of coffee.

  ‘Bugger. That’s a clever one,’ said Roberto. ‘The most we can get them for is two minor assaults and attempting to buy a bit of dope. That’s a fine.’

  ‘And Mauricio’s story will match up nicely. I can see why that bloody lawyer earns so much. But who is paying him?’ said Max.

  ‘Navarro’s not been much help,’ said Roberto.

  ‘Bugger all.’

  ‘I doubt if we’ll get anywhere on the Paco Maya case. They knew him of course, but hadn’t seen him since he got sent down. Tragic about his dodgy heart. What a shame.’

  They returned to the interview room. Navarro said to Max, ‘Can I have a word with you outside?’

  ‘Sure,’ replied Max.

  ‘The photo lab technicians have just sent me the enlarged photos of the tyre marks of the car in Nerja. They also found the missing photograph – the one you took on your friend’s camera. They match.’