by P J Brooke
Margarita smiled. ‘Me too, Max. So, what book did you bring me?’
‘Oh no – with all this bloody demo stuff, I forgot all about it. Sorry. I’ll bring something next time.’
‘Any chance of a hug? Not too hard.’
He leaned over and kissed her gently. She kissed him back. The fragrance of her perfume almost disguised the smell of hospital.
‘Max, you have to go. Get some sleep before you fall over. Ring me tomorrow.’
Max took a cab back to his flat. He was tired, really tired. But he needed to eat. He had a bowl of breakfast cereal, crawled into his warm and cosy bed, and tried to sleep. But he was restless: images of blood on the cathedral steps, an upturned child’s pushchair at the bottom of the steps, tear gas and water cannon filling the plaza, Margarita lying pale and still under the palio, a youth beaten in front of the statue of the Virgin. And Margarita, naked apart from the Virgin’s robe. In a jumbled fashion these images ran in and out of his mind as he tossed and turned.
Then sleep, a deep sleep, finally came.
Chapter 21
Max woke up quite abruptly next morning. He switched on the local radio. There was a report on the riot – the Alcalde was promising a fair and through investigation.
He phoned Margarita. She was worried about Carlos and Francisco, but otherwise fine. The pain from the bruising was less, and her temperature had gone down slightly, so with luck she’d be out soon.
Max hurried to his office and checked his emails. Chávez wanted to see him as soon as he got in.
‘You’ve read the papers today?’
‘I haven’t had a chance, sir.’
‘It could be worse. The media are saying the police had no choice but to defend themselves. But the opposition parties insist that the Alcalde appoint a Committee of Investigation into the riot. Bonila can pull a few strings, so the committee should be reasonably sympathetic.’
‘I’m sure it will be.’
‘Okay, but this is not to go outside these four walls.’
‘It won’t.’
‘What do you think really happened yesterday?’
‘Well, some of the demonstrators clearly wanted a punch-up.’
‘And?’
‘In my opinion, sir, it was a bit too much of a coincidence that the guys who started chucking stones at the cops had worked their way round to be just behind Gómez.’
‘I get the picture.’
‘And then General López ordered the police to charge as soon as the first rock landed.’
‘I see. Anything else?’
‘Well, arresting Gómez in the middle of a demo just inflamed things even further.’
‘Not my idea, Max. Davila’s sticking to his guns on that one, and he won’t lose any friends over it.’
‘I see, sir. Any word on a Carlos Ramos?’
‘So you know him?’
‘He’s in my walking group. A really good guy.’
‘I’m sorry about him. The last I heard is that he’s still in intensive care. Bashed his head when he fell. And what makes matters worse for us, he’s a bloody architect. Thorn in the Alcalde’s side, you know, but very widely respected.’
‘Can you keep me informed if you hear any more on him?’
‘Will do. We’ll be in trouble over him. Francisco Gómez less so.’
‘If I may say so, sir, I think the case against Gómez is quite weak.’
‘Let’s wait and see. There’s also this awkward matter with Navarro. The tourist who took those photos is a German woman, a professor of Spanish Literature in Berlin. She speaks fluent Spanish, so we can’t claim there was a misunderstanding. Navarro admits he overreacted, but claims the kid had thrown a stone at him. Is that true?’
‘I didn’t personally see him throw a stone.’
‘Hmm. I’m inclined to let Navarro dangle from the rope on this one. But Bonila won’t hear of it. All for one and one for all. Still too much of that shit in the force.’
‘Sí, sir.’
‘Keep this conversation just between us, Max. If you can find out anything on the guys who threw the first rocks, let me know. Right. I’m off to another meeting.’ Chávez scooped up the papers from his desk and put them in a folder. ‘See you later. Keep me posted.’
By the time Max got back to his own office, the telephone was ringing. It was Davila. The great man needed to see him.
‘Ah, Max. Come in. Bad business, that demo. What a bunch of thugs. But at least we managed to sort them out.’
‘If you say so, sir.’
‘Come on, we had no choice but to defend ourselves. I’m sorry about the injuries, especially to our guys. But look on the bright side. We’ve got that bugger Gómez in the cells for a bit.’
‘Can I speak to him?’
‘No. From my reading of the situation, you’re already too close to the suspect. I’m leaving that to Navarro and Belén.’
‘But –’
‘Max, I’ve made up my mind on this. It’s for your own good. Trust me.’
‘Very well, sir. Has he said anything?’
‘No. Swears blind he can account for his movements for all but the last ten minutes. But give us time and we’ll get him to talk. You know Gómez and Maya’s sister were once married?’
‘But that doesn’t make him guilty of murder.’
‘Not yet. But he lied about this. He knew Paco Maya. And he lied.’
‘To protect Catalina Maya?’
‘But why would he do that? When I interviewed her, she proved she was in hospital on the day of Paco Maya’s death. She has a perfect alibi. No, that makes no sense. And if he lied about that, who knows what else he’s lying about.’
‘But he has no motive.’
‘Yes. That’s still a problem. But once we have a motive, we can keep him in longer. He’ll break eventually. They always do. Navarro and Belén are with him right now. Gómez was after something in that cave. And he killed for it.’
Max went back to his office with a heavy heart. Davila had made his up mind already. Max sat quietly for a few moments, gazing out of the window and thinking. He was just about to go down to the canteen to get some toast and a glass of orange juice when the phone rang.
‘Sub-Inspector Max Romero? It’s Catalina. Catalina Maya. We talked at the conference, remember?’
‘Catalina. Of course I remember. What can I do for you?’
‘It’s about Francisco and my brother Paco. I have to talk to you privately.’
‘Certainly. Where?’
‘I’m at the Hotel Santa Paula on Gran Vía. There are some seats in the old cloister, and there’s no one else around at the moment. We could talk here.’
‘I’ll be over straight away.’
Max hurried out of the office, walked up to Gran Vía and into the Santa Paula. He went down the stairs to the cloister, now comfortable with polished wood and leather sofas. Catalina was sitting in a corner overlooking the courtyard where the nuns of the convent had been buried. Now a fountain sparkled there, and a palm tree cast a pleasant shade. Max went over to join her. She looked tired and worried.
‘Thanks for coming so quickly.’
‘How’s your leg?’
‘Oh, a lot better. Gracias.’
‘What can I do for you?’
‘It’s Francisco. He phoned me from the police station to say he’s been arrested on suspicion of murder.’
‘Sí, he’s being held for questioning.’
‘But he didn’t do it.’ She paused and wiped her eyes. ‘I suppose I have to tell you the full story. Unfortunately, the truth’s rather complicated.’
‘But it would be a good place to start. Have you already spoken to anyone in the police?’
‘Sí. An Inspector Jefe Davila came round yesterday.’
‘What exactly did you say?’
‘Just that Francisco and I were married, briefly. Francisco was very kind when I had to get away from Mauricio Espinosa, you know.’
‘And?�
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‘That when Paco died, I was in hospital … which I was.’
‘So did Francisco know Paco?’
‘Not really. Paco was in jail when we got married. Things were very difficult with Lucía’s family.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘Anyway, Francisco and I split up a couple of years later. But we’re still close friends. He’s that sort of guy.’
‘And?’
‘Paco phoned me the evening he got let out. Mauricio and Gregorio had been round. He was really scared.’
‘What had happened?’
‘Two things. One was that the brothers were pressuring him to sell his property.’
‘Do you know to whom?’
‘No.’
‘And the other thing?’
Catalina paused, embarrassed. ‘A missing packet of cocaine. It wasn’t much, but Paco thought of it as a savings account.’
Max raised an eyebrow.
‘Well, Paco managed to stall them. He said that he’d hidden it somewhere near Jaén, and the owner of the cortijo didn’t know about the package, so he’d need some time to sort it. They said they’d be back. And he’d better have got it sorted. So Paco phoned me in a panic. And I went to see him as soon as I finished work.’
‘You never told me this.’
‘No. The cocaine thing is bad news for Francisco.’
‘It is.’
‘Anyway, Paco swore blind that the cocaine had been his legitimate share the last time he did business with them, so he didn’t want to give it back. He didn’t want to flush it down the toilet, and didn’t want to hand it over to the cops either. You know, apart from his land, it was the only asset he had. So I said I would look after it for him for a bit, which was probably a silly thing to do …’
‘Not a good idea at all.’
‘Yes, but it calmed him down and gave us chance to start thinking things through.’
‘So where is it now?’
‘In a safe place. And I’m going to get rid of it as soon as I can now.’
‘That’s good. But didn’t you think that the Espinosa brothers would come straight after you?’
‘Not likely. They didn’t know my brother and I were still in contact. And if they had, I would have just handed it over nice as you like, and then shopped them to the cops.’
‘I see.’
‘There’s another thing. Paco wanted to stay on his land for as long as he could. And he knew he probably hadn’t long to live.’
‘Go on.’
‘So Francisco and I came up with a plan. Paco would transfer his land to me, to be held in trust for Angelita until she was eighteen.’
‘Clever.’
‘Sí. That would put the brakes on any development of the land for at least the next ten years. Then we could sell to a buyer who was interested in conservation, and the money would go straight to Angelita without the Espinosas getting their nasty hands on it.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘The three of us went to a lawyer the day after Paco was released, got the will sorted out, and drafted the Deed of Gift.’
‘And Paco died before the Deed of Gift could be concluded?’
‘Sí.’
‘So what happened to Paco?’
‘Paco didn’t quite get the details of the land deal. Francisco and I were going round on Friday lunchtime to reassure him about it. Then some idiot knocked me off my moped. Francisco got there on his own and found Paco on the floor of his cave. Francisco tried first aid, then realized he was already dead. And then you and your friend turned up, and he panicked.’
‘And you were?’
‘I was on my way there when I came off my moped, like I said, and ended up in hospital. Even when I came round, there’s no phone reception in the valley, so there was no way could I reach him.’
‘That’s unfortunate. Can you tell me anything about the red purse which was in Francisco’s pocket?’
‘Red purse? It’s mine. I left it behind when I saw Paco the first time. I was glad to get it back. It’s the only photo of Angelita I have, and it’s one Lucía took.’
‘But Francisco said it was his.’
‘Yes, he knew it was mine. He thought I’d been to see Paco earlier that day, and might have quarrelled. So he tried to protect me, pretending that the purse was his and that he didn’t know Paco.’
‘Not very sensible.’
‘Yes, but he doesn’t trust the cops. He gets harassed a lot.’
‘Do you have any idea why Francisco would look in Paco’s wooden box when he knew the title deeds were with the lawyer?’
‘I don’t know. He might have been looking to see if Paco had left a note cancelling the property transfer. It was only a draft at that stage.’
‘Catalina, can I ask you something? Why, given all that’s happened between you and your brother, were you prepared to trust each other?’
‘You’d understand if you’d known Paco. He did a terrible thing, but it was la droga, la cocaína. It makes you paranoid … impulsive … estúpido. Nothing’s going to bring Lucía back, but he’s my brother, and he has a daughter, and he wanted to do the right thing for Angelita, and protect the valley if he could.’
‘You do realize that we have a serious problem.’
‘Of course.’
‘Everything you’ve said could make things worse for Francisco.’
‘I understand. But Francisco definitely didn’t kill Paco. I’d stake my life on that.’
‘Look, Catalina, I’m prepared to believe you, but I’m not sure my colleagues will.’
‘So what can we do?’
‘First thing, get rid of that cocaine. Flush it down the toilet. It won’t do Francisco any good if anyone thinks there’s a drug link. Beyond that I’m not sure. The will really complicates things, you know.’
A mobile rang in Catalina’s bag. She took it out.
‘Vale. I’m on my way. Okay. Thanks, Inspector. I have to go. I should have been at work an hour ago.’
As she limped towards the door, Max wandered into the courtyard. There were gravestones of nuns from the former convent set into the ancient patio. ‘Here lies the body of Sister María Elisa de los Dolores González. She entered this convent at the age of 4 years. She suffered a serious illness with great patience and resignation, passing to a better life at the age of 24 years, on the first of September 1887 R.I.P.’
And now this convent was a luxury hotel. So very typical of Granada.
Chapter 22
Max walked out of the Hotel Santa Paula and turned right, and right again into the maze of quiet back streets which still traced the lanes and alleys of the ancient Moorish city. Back in his office he turned on his computer, hoping for inspiration. None came. He glanced at the Dali picture on his calendar: The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory. In art, as in life, nothing is ever as it seems. Max turned his notepad to a fresh sheet of paper.
Gómez, the Mayas and the Espinosas were all connected. Were they connected to anyone else? Max wrote a list of names.
Francisco Gómez – prime suspect?
Paco Maya – the deceased.
Catalina Maya – Paco’s sister, once married to Francisco.
The Espinosa brothers, Gregorio and Mauricio. Want their cocaine back?
David Costa, Black Angel Anarchist.
Faustino Azul? Rich builder. Seen talking to the anarchist Costa and Bien.
Mateo Bien – Opus Dei?
Salvador Lozano and Diego Elvira – the guys under Margarita’s palio.
Andrés Mendoza – very rich. Donated the new cloak to the Virgin of Sacromonte.
He connected those who knew one another with arrows. Five minutes later, he had a list of questions.
The Espinosa brothers had a posh lawyer from the coast. How and why?
Why did David Costa, the anarchist, turn up in a suit at the Brotherhood of the Bell, talking to Faustino Azul and Mateo Bien?
Are Salvador Lozano an
d Diego Elvira connected to anyone else?
Max paused, tore off the page, and slipped it into his pocket. He also had a major problem with the things Catalina Maya had told him. How long could he hold back on that conversation? He decided to leave it till tomorrow. Maybe something else would turn up before then.
Max phoned Maite to ask for information on David Costa and the two guys on the polio. She promised to contact her cousin Alejandro, and get back to him.
Just as Max was going for lunch, the phone rang.
‘Dígame.’
‘My name is Miguel Montero. I’m a lawyer. My office is on Gran Vía opposite the cathedral.’
‘How can I help you, señor?’
‘I was put through to you as the officer investigating the death of Paco Maya.’
‘That’s right. I am.’
‘I’ve been out of the country for a few days and have only just got back.’
‘Ah.’
‘Well, I was reading Granada Hoy today. And I found a small obituary for Paco Maya. You know he won the Prisoners’ Flamenco Song Contest?’
‘I understand he was very good.’
‘Well, I thought I’d better let you know …’
The lawyer paused, waiting for a response.
‘Sí?’
‘I have Señor Maya’s will, a draft Deed of Gift and the title deeds to his property in my office.’
‘Really? That’s very interesting. Would you mind telling me when these documents were drawn up?’
‘Almost two weeks ago, just before the start of Holy Week.’
‘And the gist of the documents?’
‘This would be covered by client confidentiality, but given the circumstances …’
The lawyer paused, as if reading from a document.
‘It’s very simple really. In the event of Francisco Javier Maya’s death, Doña Catalina Maya is to become the legal guardian of his daughter, Angelita. And his property is to go to Catalina Maya, to be held in trust for Señor Maya’s daughter, Angelita, until she reaches the age of eighteen. The Deed of Gift would have transferred the property to Doña Catalina as soon as a final version was signed.’
‘You couldn’t tell me who the witnesses are?’