An Enigmatic Disappearance

by Roderic Jeffries

  ‘Immediately after receiving this news of her death, he claimed under her life policy which, as I said, triggered inquiries. One of the first things to interest us was the fact that when Dorothy divorced him, he cancelled her policy immediately, yet when Belinda left him for another man, he did not cancel hers. We asked him why he had let Belinda’s run on when he found it so difficult to keep up premium payments and his answer was that he’d been hoping against hope she’d return to him. It really is true that there’s no fool like an old fool in love, but he was in deep financial trouble and his wife was insured for a large sum and that’s a classic recipe for fraud.

  ‘Eventually, he gave us the death certificate. Naturally, we asked the Spanish authorities to validate this and after a long while, and at considerable expense, they did. Which obviously brought to an end all suspicions and the half million was paid out. One cynic said that Ogden would never realize how lucky he was to be able to exchange an aging debt for a growing asset.

  ‘Time moved on. Then, a couple of days ago, I was phoned by a detective with whom we’d had some contact when investigating the claim on Belinda. He thought I’d be interested to know that Sabrina, third wife of Bevis Ogden, had disappeared from her home in Mallorca and he had been asked to try and find out if any of her old friends in England had news of her whereabouts. To have one wife disappear is a misfortune; to have a second one do likewise seems a coincidence too far. I immediately contacted all insurance companies and asked if any of them had written a life policy on Sabrina Ogden. The answer was that eighteen months previously, one of them had, through its Spanish branch, for half a million sterling … That news had me booking the first possible flight out here.’

  Alvarez said slowly: ‘The successful criminal so often makes the mistake of trying to repeat his success.’

  ‘Luckily for the law! Presumably, the Ogdens have been leading a very expensive life?’

  ‘I would imagine so, from the little I’ve seen.’

  ‘Even though half a million is a fortune to the average person, for a big spender it can soon need topping up … In Sabrina’s proposal form, she gave her age as twenty-five and four months which means she’s closing on twenty-seven now. Had she lived, Belinda Ogden would be almost twenty-seven. Did you meet Sabrina before she disappeared?’

  ‘No. But Señor Ogden gave me a recent snap of her to help me in my inquiries.’

  Maitland had hung his coat on the back of the chair and he turned and brought out of the inside pocket a leather wallet; from this, he produced a photograph which he handed across. ‘Mrs Belinda Ogden.’

  Alvarez studied the woman who stood poised as if about to break into a run. Sensuously attractive, few men would look at her without secret thoughts. In his mind, he compared her with the woman in the photograph – back at the post – which Ogden had given him. Belinda looked different, in slight, subtle ways. But a trained observer knew to concentrate on those features which could not be altered by mere style, and he had noted, with no specific reason for doing so at the time, the way in which Sabrina’s ears were set higher than normal and possessed what was called a Darwinian tubercle, a slight bump on the outside at the top. Belinda’s ears were similarly positioned and shaped. ‘I think the two women are the same.’

  ‘Then we can fill in some of the details. Belinda went to Paris and, to the prearranged plan, sent him the letter. Later, she moved to Spain and arranged for a false death certificate. Ogden claimed on her insurance policy and once the money was paid, left England, no doubt saying the country held too many bitter memories for him. They met up again and moved to this island. He’d carefully told none of his friends where they were living, but as there had to be the hundred to one chance that they’d eventually run into someone they knew, she changed her appearance as far as that was reasonably possible so that she could just shrug her shoulders and say that everyone has a lookalike somewhere.

  ‘Once settled here, she continued to demand a life of expensive luxury. Ogden realized that if things continued as they were going, it wouldn’t be all that long before money once more became a real problem, yet even then he couldn’t bring himself to try to curb her spending and sought another way of solving the problem.

  ‘He decided to work the insurance scam for a second time. He took out a policy on her life with a different company from the previous one, waited for as long as he reckoned was essential, then arranged her disappearance.

  ‘By analogy, the future’s predictable. He’ll receive a letter to say she’s with another man, which is a clever move because the new relationship means that he will have no apparent contact with her and no control over her actions. Then, after a month or two, there’ll be a note from Dick, Dave, or Ted, to say she’s died in an accident. A death certificate will still any doubts there might be … Does that sound feasible?’

  ‘Very much so.’

  ‘Of course, there is something which on the face of things makes nonsense of everything I’ve said. The Spanish authorities validated Belinda’s death certificate…’ He became silent.

  ‘You are wondering if there has been corruption?’

  ‘And as a visitor, that is a very insulting thing to do.’

  ‘To some extent, your job is like mine – it continually calls on us to insult by suspicion,’ Alvarez said sadly. ‘If Belinda and Sabrina are the same person, then of course the death certificate was obtained by corruption. It has to be the doctor and probably the undertaker as well, since they are directly involved; but probably not the bureaucrats since they merely accept the facts they’re given and then legalize them by recording them.’

  ‘Sadly, in every profession in every country there is always someone ready to let the side down,’ Maitland said, trying to lessen the sense of resentful shame Alvarez might be feeling. He drank most of what was left in his glass. ‘Ogden’s plan must be to leave the island once the money’s paid and to join her in another part of the world. Possibly, even now he’s thinking about the chance of a third fraud, convinced he’s hit on the perfect way to make a living.’

  ‘There is perhaps an ironic twist to events this time.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Before you told me all this, I judged he was scared she really had gone off with another man.’

  ‘That could be her undeclared price for taking part in the fraud and he’s had to accept the fact, even while trying to deny it to himself. Maybe there really was a Jim. Maybe there have been lots of Jims because Ogden can only provide her with money, not excitement.’

  ‘I might have been mistaken about his feelings. Perhaps he is a good actor and knew that if he could make me think she was betraying him, my sympathy would make me less likely to doubt all he told me … We must speak to him.’

  ‘As soon as we’ve finished lunch?’

  ‘I have to return to the office to do some work. Shall I pick you up at six at your hotel?’

  ‘Fine. That’ll give me the time for a good swim.’

  A swim in preference to a siesta?

  CHAPTER 12

  As they turned off the road on to the short dirt track down to Ca’n Nou, Maitland said: ‘It looks to be quite a house! Has he bought or does he rent?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Alvarez replied as he began to brake.

  ‘What would a place like this cost?’

  ‘Prices have become absurd! There is a house I know which has only three bedrooms and some land and the owner is asking a hundred million pesetas.’

  ‘That’s closing on half a million pounds!’

  Alvarez brought the car to a halt. ‘People have been blinded by pesetas. Prices at this end of the island have always been high because it is the most beautiful, but recently Germans have been paying whatever is asked and now owners demand so much that the mind is confused thinking about it. Even an unreformed finca with no more than a hectare of land and a poor well which dries in the summer is beyond a man’s dreams.’

  ‘What goes up, has to come down. The m
arket will crash and you’ll be able to go out and buy your dream property.’

  ‘Perhaps I will win El Gordo or the primitive lottery, but I do not think any of the possibilities are very likely.’

  As they climbed out of the car, Ogden opened the front door of the house. His face was in shadow, but Alvarez did not miss the sharp change of expression as he recognized Maitland.

  ‘Hullo, there,’ Maitland said cheerily as he approached the house, his right hand held out.

  Ogden, making no attempt to shake hands, said thickly: ‘Why are you here?’

  Maitland dropped his hand to his side. ‘I thought it would be a good idea to have a chat with you, and Inspector Alvarez kindly brought me along.’

  ‘I’ve nothing more to say.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll manage to find something.’

  ‘Clear off.’

  Alvarez came to a stop. ‘May we enter, señor?’

  Ogden hesitated, then, without a word, turned and went through the house to the patio where he sat, seemingly careless that his rudeness highlighted his fear.

  As Maitland settled on a chair, he said: ‘It’s interesting that you’ve not asked if we’ve news of your wife.’

  ‘The inspector would have told me if he’d finally found the energy to try to find her … What the hell d’you want?’

  ‘The answers to a few questions, like do you rent this place or is it yours?’

  ‘That’s none of your bloody business. It’s nothing to do with what’s happened to Sabrina.’

  ‘That is a matter of conjecture. After all, a rented house can be deserted overnight at the loss of only the unused rental period; a house that’s owned has to be sold which takes time and the transfer of the purchase price will leave a trail unless one’s very smart.’

  ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘That’s not obvious? I’m hoping to find out if there’s significance in the fact that your third wife has disappeared in similar circumstances to your second.’

  ‘All I know is, she didn’t return on the Sunday and I’ve been living in hell ever since.’

  ‘Because you spend your time wondering if she’s enjoying her freedom more fully than your script allows?’

  Ogden turned to Alvarez. ‘Why aren’t you stopping him insulting me?’ he shouted.

  ‘I have heard no insults.’

  ‘Then you must be bloody deaf. Or you don’t understand English.’

  ‘That is very likely,’ Alvarez answered equably. ‘Is the señora’s passport here, in the house.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Because she needed it to leave the island?’

  ‘Because she always carries it in her handbag along with all the other papers we have to have with us all the time.’

  ‘Would these include her birth and marriage certificates?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She obviously is very concerned to be able to prove who she is.’

  ‘Because of the ridiculous rules in this place.’

  Maitland said: ‘Where was she born?’

  ‘What business of yours is that.’

  ‘I’ll be very interested to know if she was born in Islington. You know why I’ll be so interested, don’t you?’

  Ogden didn’t answer.

  ‘Belinda was born in Islington. If we learn Sabrina was likewise, the coincidences really will be piling up. But then I suppose that realistically there’s small chance of that. You’ll have had the foresight to see she has false papers to avoid the excitement of too much astonishment. Still, who knows what such papers will reveal when they’re checked out?’

  ‘You don’t give a damn my wife is missing or what it’s like for me. All you can do is talk vicious nonsense.’

  ‘Earlier on, the inspector and I had drinks and a meal in delightful surroundings and I showed him a photograph of Belinda. Guess what he said?’

  ‘How the hell can I?’

  ‘It would require very little imagination. He says she looks just like Sabrina.’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘Just one more coincidence?’

  ‘Why d’you think I married Sabrina?’

  ‘Delicacy prohibits an answer.’

  ‘Because she looks so like Belinda.’

  ‘Funnily enough, I said to the inspector that I reckoned that’s what you’d probably claim.’

  ‘I suppose you think you’re being smart?’

  ‘My headmaster cured me of ever believing that … Let’s be serious. Sabrina and Belinda are one and the same, aren’t they?’

  ‘You’re crazy.’

  ‘It’s quite a clever move for an amateur. But perhaps I wrong you by describing you as an amateur since you used to be a commodity broker, which means you’re an expert at buying what you don’t wish to receive and selling what you don’t possess; a short-sighted pro might be more accurate. Short-sighted because you don’t seem to accept that the law usually shows a measure of leniency to someone who realizes he’s run his course and admits the truth, thereby saving time and money, rather than trying desperately to delay the inevitable.’

  ‘What truth?’

  ‘It becomes boring to have to spell out everything.’

  ‘Bore me.’

  ‘Back in England you ran so short of money that you and Belinda faked her death in order to claim successfully under her life insurance. You decided to live on this island, satisfied the deception would not come to light. But the money once more started to melt as fast as an icicle in hell and you realized you’d soon need to replenish the coffers. Easy. Your present wife would die in circumstances proven to be profitable. Unfortunately, no one has whispered to you the fact that in the world of crime, success breeds failure. A second wife disappearing with an unknown male, then dying in some foreign field leaving you to claim on a half-million policy? Very difficult to accept.’

  ‘You tried to say Belinda wasn’t really dead. So what happened? You had to eat your words!’ Ogden said sneeringly. ‘I’m not claiming anything because Sabrina’s not dead.’

  ‘You admit it?’

  ‘I don’t know where she is or what’s happened to her, she’s not dead.’

  ‘Señor…’ began Alvarez.

  ‘Get out,’ he shouted. ‘Clear off.’

  Alvarez stood; Maitland did the same. ‘After we’ve gone and you’ve had time to calm down,’ said Maitland, ‘think about this. Camouflage is only effective so long as it camouflages. Your stirring declaration of belief in Sabrina’s being alive only appears to negate the possibility that you could be attempting to repeat the scam until you make the claim.’

  They were halfway to the door of the sitting-room when Alvarez came to a stop. ‘Señor, do you and your wife have residencias?’

  ‘No.’

  As Alvarez closed the front door behind himself, he said: ‘If the señora had a residenctia, we would have her fingerprints. But it should not be difficult to find good prints about this house.’

  ‘What would one compare them with? Back home, people only have their prints taken and held if they’re convicted and we’ve no reason to think Belinda ever was. And the only other verifiable source would be the house she lived in with him, but that’s been occupied by other people for too long.’ Maitland led the way to the car and settled on the front passenger seat. He said, as he dipped home the seat belt: ‘He’s admitted nothing, said nothing that takes us an inch forward. We think we know the truth, but can’t be certain because improbable coincidences have a nasty habit of turning out to be fact, and reasonable assumptions to be wrong, because life likes to laugh.’

  ‘Which means I must determine whether the death certificate of Belinda is fraudulent. I will make inquiries.’

  ‘I hate to have to ask you to do that.’

  ‘If someone has acted criminally, he must be exposed,’ said Alvarez bitterly, knowing that if the death certificate was false, a foreigner, no matter how understanding, would have learnt that Spanish honour had been tarnished.

&n
bsp; * * *

  As Alvarez sat down at the dining-table and reached across for the bottle of brandy, Dolores looked through the bead curtain. ‘You are late and I’ve had to delay supper.’

  ‘I had to make inquiries down in the port.’

  ‘And they, of course, took much longer than you’d expected.’ Her tone was both ironic and angry.

  ‘If you’re thinking…’

  ‘My thoughts are my own.’ She withdrew.

  ‘She reckons I’ve been spending my time with a woman,’ Alvarez said to Jaime, as he poured himself a drink.

  ‘Haven’t you?’

  ‘No. It was all work.’

  ‘She’ll never believe that.’

  ‘Don’t I know it.’

  ‘She never believes anything.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Yet as God is my witness, I never lie to her unless it’s absolutely necessary.’

  ‘You’re a good husband!’

  CHAPTER 13

  As Alvarez waited to speak to Salas, receiver to his ear, he watched a gecko scurry a wavy path across the ceiling, then freeze when only a few centimetres out from the wall. When he’d been young, people had been so scared of geckos that on sighting one a woman would scream. Popular myth had said that if a gecko landed on one, the grip of its feet was so great that if one tried to remove it by force, it would rip away the skin. Yet it must have happened relatively frequently that a gecko landed on someone and then frantically scurried off, leaving no physical harm. So how had the myth survived in the face of the truth? How many more beliefs were equally fallacious?…

  ‘Yes?’ said Salas, his bad temper obvious even over the phone.

  ‘Señor, in connection with the disappearance of Señora Ogden…’

  ‘Have you found her?’

  ‘No. But I am convinced she is alive.’

  ‘Then I will assume she is dead.’

  ‘Señor Maitland, from England, who investigates suspected insurance frauds is on the island because…’ Alvarez briefly detailed the facts. ‘So it would seem that the death certificate was false,’ he concluded.