In Search of Murder--An Inspector Alvarez Mallorcan Mystery

by Roderic Jeffries

  ‘Before the post mortem? The results of that may make it unnecessary to question him and others you have named. If I do as you suggest—’

  ‘As I command.’

  ‘Since it must by now be generally known we are treating the case as one of murder, rumours will be rife and innocent persons to whom we speak may have their reputations wrongly damaged.’

  ‘Conduct a quick and efficient investigation and there will be no such risk.’

  ‘But if it turns out that the drowning was accidental, not murder, the cuerpo’s reputation for efficiency will be damaged.’

  ‘The man who argues against his orders is inefficient as well as insolent.’

  ‘I was expressing an opinion, señor, not arguing.’

  ‘From you, neither is welcome. Have I not told you that at the heart of every crime is a motive and money is the most likely motive?’

  ‘Frequently.’

  ‘But repetition for you does not precede comprehension. If there is someone with a strong motive for murdering Picare, is touched by the evidence, however lightly, then, lacking evidence to the contrary, it is reasonable to consider him a suspect.’

  ‘Is that not assuming a murder because there is someone who might have a motive for committing it, then naming that person with a motive to be the murderer?’

  Salas brought the conversation to an end by replacing his receiver.

  Alvarez picked up a pencil and a sheet of paper, wrote down the names of people he was ordered to question; added XX to signify friends, neighbours, odds and sods who had not yet come into the frame.

  The list represented hours and hours of work and frustration. One person would be out with friends on a yacht, another shopping in Palma, a third on holiday in Timbuktu …

  He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, brought out a bottle and glass.

  SEVEN

  Some said there was no such thing as an inexplicable coincidence. Alvarez had reason to refute that when, as he walked towards Dr Ferrer’s consulting room in the medical centre, he was accosted by the woman who had challenged him on the previous occasion.

  ‘We are still of no account?’ she said angrily. ‘We live in a democracy, but you think we are still in a dictatorship and authority has the right to push the ordinary citizen aside?’ She turned to face the other seated men and women who waited to see a doctor. ‘He is of the guardia. When we were young, he could order us around as if we were nobodies. He could assault us and if we complained, we were called liars; he could have us imprisoned because we had been denounced, but we could not denounce him. He believes he can still do as he wishes. I say he cannot.’

  Several agreed – in lower key.

  The post mortem was to be held on the next day and there was no pressing reason to consult with Dr Ferrer before then. Alvarez left.

  Properties in Carer Julian Gayarre sold for less than might normally be expected because halfway along the narrow road, behind what had been a typical village house, was an extension in which was the area mortuary. It’s identity dated to before the Civil War and as soon as that had concluded, there had been a public demand to have it removed from within the town. There had been plans to do so, but endless bureaucratic delays ensured that nothing had been done until the financial situation ensured further, indefinite delay.

  In the large air-conditioned room, Alvarez stood by the tiled wall as far away as possible from the tilting table, underneath a pod of lights, on which lay the naked body of Neil Picare. Others might have learned to regard the evidence of death unemotionally, he could not. A noted Spanish poet had written that no man stood alone because he was diminished by another’s death. Alvarez was not only diminished, he was also scared because he was forced to accept he was mortal and a pain in the stomach might not be due to a rich diet, but was the sighting shot of death.

  Degner Picó was cheerful despite his profession. He removed hair cover, mouth mask, paper gown, surgical gloves and dropped them into a disposal bin. Alvarez walked across the room to join him.

  ‘Dr Ferrer was correct. He did not die from drowning,’ Picó said. ‘The signs of bruising on the right ankle are no longer apparent and beneath the skin, tissues were not crushed with sufficient force to tear capillaries or small veins.’

  ‘Does that mean his ankle was not gripped tightly?’

  ‘That there is not the proof it was. The cut on the right leg was too minor to suggest with any certainty what might have caused it.’

  ‘It wasn’t a torn fingernail?’

  ‘The dead man’s nails were well trimmed and there was no foreign substance under them as possibly there would be had he struggled. For a man of his age, he was in good physical condition and not suffering from a complaint which might have caused a sudden loss of consciousness.’

  ‘Then if he didn’t drown, why did he die?’

  ‘Do you smoke?’

  Alvarez feared he was in for another lecture. ‘Only very occasionally.’

  ‘This seems a good occasion. We’ll go outside.’

  They went out to the small area beyond the extension which was all that remained of a garden. A solitary tree grew in a circle of earth and five oranges, still green, grew on it. Since Alvarez had Ducados cigarettes, he hesitated to offer them; was gratified when Picó produced a pack of Pall Mall.

  The hint of a breeze took time to disperse the smoke; from nearby came the sounds of two children arguing.

  ‘There are times,’ Picó said, as he held his cigarette between fingers, ‘one has to admit one cannot give an uncontroversial answer to a question. Facts can define the course of the path from effect back to cause, but not the reverse.’ He raised the cigarette, drew on it, exhaled. ‘However, circumstances, even negative ones, can enable one to surmise that path. A healthy man is in a swimming pool and dies, but not from drowning. Dr Ferrer examined him and noted minor bruising and a small cut, too insignificant to have been deliberately caused. The victim may not have drowned, but struggled wildly to avoid drowning; a torn nail on another’s hand – the victim’s were very well trimmed – could cause such a cut.’

  ‘Can you surmise the path? Could a struggle have resulted in some form of vagal inhibition?’

  ‘Vagal inhibition. What makes you suggest that?’

  ‘There was a case in England very many years ago when more than one woman was murdered in a bath tub by very sharply pulling her head under the water.’

  Degner dropped the butt of his cigarette on to the ground, dug it into the earth with the heel of a shoe. ‘I suspect there are few members of the cuerpo who can refer to that case. You must study the course of crime in other countries?’

  ‘When I have the time, señor.’

  ‘Death by drowning – I now use the word in its everyday sense – can be precipitated by the sudden and unexpected invasion of water on the naso-pharynx or glottis. Death is immediate. A person jumping into water will close his nostrils, usually by will, sometimes with fingers, which is why he survives to swim again.’

  ‘There was a second person in the pool who grabbed Señor Picare’s ankle and dragged him down, bringing his head underwater?’

  ‘That is possible.’

  ‘You’re not saying that’s what did happen?’

  ‘Lacking evidence of a second person in the pool at the time of Señor Picare’s death and, as you will know, of that second person’s intention to murder, it must remain no more than a possibility.’

  That bloody motive, Alvarez thought.

  He sat in his office, receiver against his ear, wondering if Salas had ever considered he might not be quite so smart and clever as he believed.

  ‘As I remarked at the beginning of this case, it becomes a question of motive. As the pathologist could unfortunately, perhaps from lack of sufficient experience, do no more than offer possibility, motive will provide probability.’

  ‘But not prove murder.’

  ‘As I was about to comment. When a man or woman is shown to possess motive,
he or she becomes a suspect and must be closely questioned.’

  ‘Señor, are we not putting the cart before the horse? We cannot be certain that Señor Picare was murderously dragged under the water by a second party. Yet now to investigate everyone who may in any way benefit from his death surely assumes he was murdered.’

  ‘I remember that, also in a confused manner, you have previously said something similar. Perhaps you wish to decide death was accidental and so avoid considerable work?’

  ‘Señor, that is an unfair suggestion. Such a thought would never occur to me.’

  ‘Except on the subject of work, your thoughts are unfathomable. You will question the señora again.’

  ‘I’m sure she won’t be able to tell me any more than she has.’

  ‘You will discover whether or not you are correct. You will question the staff again and I’d be grateful if you did not now assure me that you can learn nothing from them.’

  Alvarez switched off the engine, undid the seat belt, stepped out of the car. After prolonged visual enjoyment of the bay, mountains, land, he crossed to the front door of Vista Bonita, rang the bell.

  Carolina opened the door. ‘Back again?’

  ‘Both by necessity and with you here, pleasure. How is the señora?’

  ‘You have come to ask to speak to her again?’

  ‘To speak to her.’

  ‘Your previous visit upset her and the doctor was called. He says she is not to be troubled by anyone.’

  ‘All I want is just—’

  ‘You will not see her.’

  That was, he decided, sufficient authority to explain to Salas why he had not spoken to the señora. He stepped into the hall. ‘I’d like another word with you and Rosalía.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To find out if you can remember anything you have not previously mentioned or would like to change anything you have told me.’

  ‘I can tell you nothing more and have no need to change anything I have said.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I have to carry out my orders so I have to question you again.’

  They went into the staff sitting room.

  ‘Last time, you gave me the impression that the marriage was not all that happy,’ Alvarez said.

  ‘You imagine any woman could be happy if her husband dishonours their marriage time after time?’

  ‘She wasn’t willing to put up with that?’

  ‘Only a man such as you could ask.’

  ‘Tell me about their most serious row.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘You think he did not strike her?’

  ‘Is that what I said?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why ask again?’

  The questioning was proceeding as he had expected; were he in her position, understanding she might be under suspicion, he would be as un-cooperative as she was. Give it a couple more minutes, he decided, and he’d bring things to an end and speak to Rosalía.

  Rosalía sat. ‘I can’t spend any time here.’

  ‘I want—’ Alvarez began.

  ‘And needn’t expect to get.’

  ‘Tell me about the marriage.’

  ‘Whose?’

  ‘If you’re determined to be un-cooperative, we’ll have to go down to the station.’

  ‘I’ll be so frightened, I’ll do whatever you ask?’

  ‘How frequent were the rows between the señor and señora?’

  ‘How long is a piece of string?’

  ‘Carry on like this and I’ll have to arrest you for trying to pervert the course of justice.’

  ‘Perversion attracts you?’

  ‘How long had they slept in different beds?’

  ‘You’re fascinated by other people’s sex lives?’

  ‘It’s a simple question.’

  ‘Not made for a simple reason.’

  ‘Have you remembered the names of some of the women he entertained?’

  ‘Not having heard names, I can’t remember them.’

  ‘Some were married?’

  ‘As I’ve said previously.’

  ‘You can remember that much? How can you be certain they were?’

  ‘They didn’t take off their rings or had a circle of white around the third finger.’

  ‘And some of them were English?’

  ‘You can believe a married Spanish woman would behave so openly?’

  ‘Why do you think so many women came here?’

  ‘You need it explained?’

  ‘He doesn’t seem to have had a charming manner.’

  ‘He had the charm of wealth. He could have been ninety and the women would still have been along. I’ve a niece who works in a jeweller in Inca. She mentioned an Englishman who frequently came into the shop and chose a necklace, ring, or bracelet which looked more expensive than it was. It turned out he was Señor Picare.’

  ‘If they received jewellery, they were little more than putas.’

  ‘Are you trying to sound shocked? He wasn’t paying them, he was giving them gifts for the pleasure they had given him.’

  ‘You mentioned the señor was friendly to you.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘How friendly?’

  ‘He’d have a chat in his impossible Castilliano.’

  ‘You’ve said he often nipped your bum in the morning. Was that friendliness?’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Depends where else he nipped.’

  ‘You can’t lift your mind off the subject.’

  ‘He tried to get too friendly with Marta.’

  ‘You’re quite old so will know youth can become irresistible to you.’

  ‘I’m not old.’

  ‘It’s your looks and manner which makes you seem so? But perhaps that does not need to trouble you too much. The word “inspector” makes women uneasy, yet willing because they like to be slightly in awe of a man.’

  ‘I doubt you’ve ever been in awe of any man. How angry would the señora have been when she learned about the señor’s entertaining habits when she wasn’t at home?’

  ‘How often are you going to ask the same question?’

  ‘Until I get a straight answer.’

  ‘She’s not someone who’d make a spectacle of herself by anger.’

  ‘Carolina would disagree. Did he ever try to become too friendly with you?’

  ‘I haven’t made you understand that if he’d tried anything, I’d have told him what I thought and then quit the job. Why d’you go on and on asking?’

  ‘Because of the possibility his drowning wasn’t accidental.’

  ‘I still don’t believe that.’

  ‘Someone may have pulled him under the water.’

  ‘When the water wasn’t a metre sixty even at the deep end?’

  ‘Done suddenly and unexpectedly, he’d have lost his balance.’

  ‘He would have kicked himself free and stood up.’

  ‘He could have been dead within seconds of his head being dragged under the water because of an automatic bodily response.’

  ‘You believe he was murdered?’

  ‘Trying to find out if he was.’

  ‘The thought makes me … I need a drink.’

  ‘To prevent you drinking on your own, I’d welcome a coñac with ice.’

  She left the room, soon returned with two glasses, one of which she handed to him before she sat.

  ‘You’ve said the señor entertained widely.’

  ‘He was the last man to behave like a monk.’

  ‘You’ve told me you don’t know any of their names. By now, perhaps you have been able to recollect one or two?’

  ‘If I could, I wouldn’t tell you what those names are.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Let the husbands keep their self-respect.’

  ‘He’ll know nothing unless she admits the affair to him.’

  ‘And after you turn up and question her about the señor, he won’t be suspicious?’

  ‘I’ll make
him understand the reason is a totally different matter and then insist on speaking to her on our own.’

  ‘Your lips may lie, but your eyes don’t.’

  ‘Eyes can’t speak.’

  ‘When you look at me, what they say makes me blush.’

  ‘Very unlikely.’

  ‘Names?’

  ‘And if I refuse to answer, will you seize me and threaten me with dishonour if I remain dumb?’

  ‘I would never consider such a thing,’

  ‘It might be exciting for both of us.’

  ‘You can find your excitement some other way.’

  ‘Suggest one.’

  ‘The names?’

  ‘I’ll have to whisper them.’

  ‘Why? Who else is here but Marta?’

  ‘She’s at home.’

  ‘Then you can shout, not whisper.’

  ‘Despite that look in your eyes, I’ve been mistaken?’

  He said nothing.

  ‘Deborah Crane; Giselle Dunkling.’

  ‘Carry on.’

  ‘That’s all.’

  ‘I don’t believe that.’

  ‘You’re being cruel. I can’t think of any other names now, but I’ll try and try and the next time you come here, perhaps I’ll be able to tell you more.’

  ‘Where do those two live?’

  ‘I don’t know, but Giselle probably locally. The señor collected her and drove her back and was never away for long.’

  ‘And Deborah?’

  ‘He was away much longer.’

  ‘The señor wasn’t worried about your seeing them?’

  ‘He used to say the woman was a cousin, here on holiday. It seems the English would rather be thought fools than immoral.’

  ‘Over-developed consciences.’

  ‘You’ve heard there are such things?’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I’d whisper the answer, but you’re so determined to keep away from me.’ She stood. ‘I want another drink. Would you like another coñac or is there something else you’d prefer? Your eyes tell me there is, but I’m a good girl.’

  There was a knock on the door. ‘Yes?’ she said.

  Marta entered, spoke nervously. ‘I think I heard the señora call out.’

  ‘I’ll go and find out if she needs something. The inspector is thirsty, so show him where the drinks are.’ She left.