Juan Foot in the Grave

by Roger Keevil

  “And we mustn’t take up any more of your time. We have other people we need to talk to – perhaps we’ll start with your Mr. Connor. We may want to have another chat later, but for now, we’ll get out of your way and do our job and let you get on with yours.” Constable shook her hand in farewell. “No rest for the wicked, eh?”

  As Constable and Copper made their way across the street, Liza Lott stood for a moment in thought. Then she turned, made her way to her desk, and picked up the phone.

  Chapter 5

  “So who next, sir?”

  “We might as well start at the top of the list and work down. Who have you got?”

  “The first one is the builder Liza Lott was talking about – Mr. X.P. Connor, according to Alfredo’s computer.”

  “X? Who the hell has a name starting with X?”

  “Don’t know, sir,” replied Copper. “I just got the initials. Maybe it’s a clue,” he added facetiously. “Mr. X, the man of mystery, criminal mastermind! X marks the spot – dig here!”

  “Hmmm. Enough digging references, I think, sergeant.”

  “Sorry, guv. It just happens, I’m afraid. I just open my mouth and put my foot in it.”

  “Copper!”

  “I’ll just shut up, then, shall I, sir?”

  “No. Make yourself useful and tell me where we find this Mr. Connor.”

  “I’ve got the address here, sir, And,” triumphantly producing a map from the pocket of his shorts, “I picked another one of these up from Liza’s office, so we can see how to get there. In fact,” Copper juggled with the several pieces of paper in his hands, “as far as I can see, it’s only a couple of hundred yards down this road here on the left – number 42. And, even better, the address for the next person is the same – Philippa – that’s the one Alfredo said was his girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend, eh? Good thinking, sergeant. Well done.”

  “Well, at least I’ve done one thing right,” smiled Copper ruefully. “With a bit of luck they’ll both be home. Then we can kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Copper,” sighed Constable, “I don’t know how you do it.”

  *

  On the drive of the villa in question, a large and ferocious-looking Italian sports car was being polished by a burly man in his forties, with crinkled greying hair and surprisingly bright blue eyes. He straightened as the two detectives entered the property.

  “Looks as if the building lark pays well, guv,” murmured Copper in an aside to his superior. “We’re obviously in the wrong business.”

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” said the man, stepping forward to meet the visitors. “I’m assuming you’re the two policemen I’ve been warned to expect.”

  “We are, sir,” confirmed Constable. “I’m Detective Inspector Constable, this is my sergeant D.S. Copper. And I assume you’re Mr. Connor?”

  “X-Pat. Call me X-Pat. Everyone does.”

  “That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it, sir?” said Dave Copper, producing his notebook. “Is that actually your name?”

  “If you want the whole thing, it’s Xavier Patrick Connor.”

  “Thank you, sir. I was wondering what the X stood for.”

  X-Pat smiled. “That’s what you get for being born into a religious family in Armagh, son.”

  “Hence the Irish accent, sir. Sorry, forgive the surprise, but Captain Alfredo told us that all the people who were involved were English.”

  “Ah, well that’s the Spanish for you. Some of them couldn’t tell English from a hole in the ground.”

  “Sorry to sound nosey, sir, but how come the name?”

  “Put that down to the school. Half the boys in my class were called either Michael or Patrick, so you can imagine the chaos if the teacher called on Pat or Mike. So it was Mike G or Pat F, just to avoid the confusion.”

  “So why not just Xavier?”

  “Come off it. I was a seven-year-old boy. What boy wants to be called Xavier in school? I wasn’t having that!”

  “Pat C? No, on second thoughts, I see your problem with that.”

  “So then, X-Pat. Easy. Now, any other family history you’d like? Grandmother’s maiden name? Shoe size?”

  Inspector Constable swiftly took control as Sergeant Copper looked faintly abashed. “Forgive my sergeant, Mr. Connor. He does get side-tracked sometimes, and I’m sure you’d much rather get on with the matter in hand. I gather you know why we’re here.”

  “Yes,” replied X-Pat easily. “I had a call from Liza Lott a little while ago. She told me about Juan – that’s a shock, I must say. And she said there’d be two British policemen coming to see me, although I have to say I’m still not sure why. You said ‘involved’ just now – I can’t say I like the sound of that.”

  “That’s all down to Captain Alfredo, sir – I imagine you know him?” X-Pat nodded assent. “Of course, I don’t have any official jurisdiction, which is why my colleague and I haven’t been showing you our warrant cards, but as we were on his patch for… well, shall we say, unconnected reasons… the Captain asked for our help in looking into the case. I’m sure if you wish to contact him, he’ll be pleased to confirm that we’re acting on his behalf. Of course, you’re under no compulsion to answer any questions, but I’m sure the local authorities would be very appreciative of any co-operation you could give us.” The implication as to how any lack of co-operation might be viewed was skilfully left un-voiced.

  “Ask away, then, gentlemen,” beamed X-Pat. “I’m always only too happy to assist the law in any way I can. Poor old Juan didn’t deserve to be killed, whatever he’d done. You’d better come and sit down.” He led the way to a shaded front terrace where a group of wicker chairs waited, and waved a hand the size of a shovel towards a sofa. “So, what can I tell you?”

  “Well, Miss Lott has given us a certain amount of background,” said Constable, sitting with a thump on the deceptively under-stuffed cushions. “I understand that you and she work very closely together?”

  “Oh, yes, Liza and I go back a long way,” smiled X-Pat. “We’ve been together for years – there’s not a thing we don’t know about each other.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” put in Dave Copper, preparing to make notes. “When you say together…?”

  “Ah, no, not that kind of together,” said X-Pat. “I mean in business. She rustles up the punters – I get to do the donkey work. Well, I say donkey-work, because that’s how it was in the early days when we were just starting, and I was just an ambitious brickie.”

  “I couldn’t help noticing the car, sir,” said Copper. “It looks as if you’ve moved on a bit from just brickieing these days.”

  “You’re right at that,” responded X-Pat with a smile of satisfaction. “Well, it’s my own firm, so I think I deserve some of the rewards.”

  “And the work involves…?” Andy Constable resumed control of the conversation.

  “It’s pretty much all one-off builds all up and down the Costa,” answered X-Pat. “I suppose you’ve seen Percy Vere’s place? Well, villas like that. There’s quite a number of people like Mr. Vere who’ve got a bit of money to spend, and they’d rather have something individual rather than one of these places you see so many of, like in the song – you know, ‘little boxes on the hillside’. No, they want something architect-designed, so that’s where Liza and I come in.”

  “You manage to cope with the bureaucracy, then?” asked Constable. “I remember somebody told us that the officialdom here is a nightmare, what with forms and permits and so on.”

  “Easy as you like,” said X-Pat. “I don’t say you don’t have to be careful, what with all the zoning laws and the different building regulations depending on which local authority you’re dealing with, but we’ve never had any trouble in that line. It’s all a question of knowing the right people to contact. You know what it’s like in some offices – some people are right jobsworths, and others are only too pleased to help you out along th
e way. Juan was a genius at sorting stuff like that out.”

  “So had he been working for you for long?”

  “Pretty much since I started up. He kicked off just as a foreman, recruiting the lads for me, but over time he turned into my main interpreter and Mr. Fixit. So I’ve got a bit of a problem now that he’s got himself killed.” X-Pat stopped short. “I suppose you’re sure that he has been murdered? I mean, there’s no possibility of an accident? There’s a lot of people who die on Spanish building sites without anybody crying foul play. Not with us, of course,” he explained hastily. “Our record’s fine. But I don’t think they pay too much attention to health and safety at work in this country.”

  “I think you can take it as read that Mr. Laborero didn’t die as the result of an accident,” replied Constable heavily. “If he did, it’s not like any accident I’ve ever seen.”

  “So how did he die?”

  “Collision with a rather large piece of wood, sir, we think,” said Copper before Constable could stop him.

  “But I’d be grateful if you could keep that just between ourselves,” said the inspector hastily, with a sideways glare at his colleague that promised trouble later.

  X-Pat shook his head. “Poor devil.”

  “So I’m assuming you must have known him pretty well. Any ideas as to who might have wanted to do him any harm?”

  “Sorry, inspector, but I can’t think of a soul.” X-Pat’s expression was as open and guileless as anyone could wish. “Juan was just everyone’s friend. And it’s going to be a real pain getting by without him, but I guess we’ll have to manage somehow. I wish I could help you more.”

  “Perhaps you can, Mr. Connor. It might be a help to know something about Mr. Laborero’s movements at the party last night. That’s mainly why we’re here – everything else is just background really. Now I understand that you were at the party, so if you can tell us anything about who you saw with the dead man, and when you saw him last, it should enable us to put the jigsaw together.”

  “Right.” X-Pat thought for a moment. “D’you know, inspector, I think I’m going to be no use to you at all. I reckon Phil and I got there somewhere between eight and nine… that’s Philippa, the girlfriend,” he added in clarification. “We walked down – it’s not so far, and I wanted to have a few drinks to start off the weekend, so I didn’t want to drive in case any of Alfredo’s boys took it into their heads to start clamping down on drink-driving. He’s a good lad, but some of his new guys don’t know yet who’s a friend of the boss and who isn’t, and you can imagine I’d not be best pleased if they took away my licence to drive that little baby.” He gestured to his car. “Anyway, we got there while it was still light, so that must have been before nine. And Juan Manuel and a bunch of the lads from the firm were still there at that time.” He laughed in recollection. “Actually, it was quite funny. When Phil and I strolled in, the boys all looked like startled rabbits, and before you knew it, they were off like a shot from a gun, so it was a case of ‘Hola and adios’. Juan stayed, of course. I had a little chat with him, but as to what happened after that and when, I couldn’t honestly say. I didn’t see him around when Phil and I left, but I have no idea where he went or when.”

  “That would be because he didn’t leave, sir,” said Dave Copper. “He is very much still there.”

  “Ah now, but are you sure of that?” said X-Pat. “How do you know he didn’t leave and then come back later? Maybe that’s something you ought to check with Percy Vere.”

  “We will, sir, don’t worry,” said Copper, slightly thrown by the unexpected suggestion. “We’ll be doing quite a bit of checking with everyone. Which reminds me, you mentioned your lady friend. I understand she lives here too – would it be possible to have a word with her as well? As we’re here.” He turned to the inspector. “If that’s all right with you, guv?”

  “Carry on, sergeant, if Mr. Connor doesn’t mind.”

  “She’s round the back by the pool, I think,” said X-Pat, rising to his feet. “Do you want me to get her?”

  The two policemen stood. “That’s fine,” said Constable. “We’ll go to her, if you can show us the way. I wouldn’t want to disturb her more than we have to on a Saturday morning. And I dare say you’ll be wanting to get back to finishing off that very nice car of yours before the sun gets too hot. I’m sure you wouldn’t want it ending up covered in streaks.” The intention of conducting the interview without Mr. Connor’s presence was plain if unspoken.

  “No problem.” X-Pat’s smile was broad and untroubled. “Through the front door there, left at the end, and that’ll bring you out to the back terrace.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Constable smiled no less genially. “We’ll find our way. We’ll let you get on with it.” He turned and led the way into the house.

  *

  The rear terrace extended across the full width of the property, wrapped around a large swimming pool whose sinuous curves terminated at one end in a flight of steps which led down into the gently rippling water. To one side, shaded by a group of palm trees, stood a pool house which incorporated a well-stocked bar, an outdoor kitchen which gleamed with stainless steel, and louvred saloon doors which Constable surmised led to changing rooms within. At the other, next to an enormous jacuzzi beneath a rustic canopy, in the only patch of sun which, at that early hour, fell upon the patio, a young woman in a bikini was stretched out on a sun lounger. In response to Constable’s discreet clearing of the throat, she looked up in surprise, sat up, and hastily pulled around her the loose silk wrap which she wore.

  “What are you doing here? Who let you in?”

  Inspector Constable was at his most emollient. “I do apologise if we startled you, Miss, but Mr. Connor said it would be all right.”

  “Oh. You’ve seen X-Pat, have you? Well, what is it you want?” The tension in her voice was obvious.

  “I’m so sorry, Miss, if we’re disturbing you, but I’m afraid we’re here on a police matter.” The young woman looked the two officers up and down, her disbelief plain. “Yes, I know we may not look the part at the moment, but I’m Detective Inspector Constable, this is my colleague Sergeant Copper, and we’ve been asked to assist the local force in an investigation. And I understand that you are Miss Philippa…?” The query hung in the air.

  “Philippa Glass.”

  “And you are Mr. Connor’s… friend?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you also live here, miss?”

  “That’s right.”

  Copper slid his notebook out of his pocket and made an unobtrusive note. “Thank you, miss.”

  “This is about Juan, isn’t it?” said Philippa. And in response to Constable’s nod of affirmation, “But I don’t understand. You’re English. Why are you coming asking questions about something that’s happened here in Spain? What’s it got to do with you?”

  By now, Andy Constable was becoming well-rehearsed in his explanation. “The Captain of the local force has asked for our help because of… another matter we had been involved in, so we are working in conjunction with him. Why, would that be a problem for you?”

  “No, not at all. I suppose if Alfredo has sent you… ” The unease in her tone belied her words. “So what do you want to ask me?”

  Constable chose his words with care. “I take it you know that Mr. Laborero has been found dead this morning at Mr. Vere’s villa, in circumstances which mean that the local authorities have started a murder investigation.”

  “Yes. X-Pat told me. Liza phoned him earlier. But that’s got nothing to do with me.”

  “Of course not, Miss Glass. Nobody has suggested that it has.” Copper could clearly hear the unvoiced ‘yet’ in the seemingly soothing words of the inspector’s response. “But the thing is, the last time Mr. Laborero was seen with any certainty was last night at Mr. Vere’s party, so we are having to ask everyone who was there at the same time what they can tell us, in the hope that we can garne
r some helpful information.”

  “I see.” Philippa appeared to grow more relaxed. She sat up, tied back her long dark-blonde hair in a bandeau, wrapped her robe more closely around herself, and gestured to the two detectives to seat themselves at a table alongside her. “So, what is it you want to know?”

  “Background, miss, as much as anything,” replied Copper. “We’ve met one or two of the people concerned, but I have to say that Inspector Constable and I are still struggling slightly to work out who is who and who fits in where. Yourself, for example.”

  “All right. So, I’m X-Pat’s girlfriend, but you say you know that.”

  “And you’ve known him for…?”

  “It must be nearly five years now.” She smiled tentatively. “Lord, is it really that long? Anyway, I first met him when I was working as a temp when I originally came over here to live, and he wanted someone to do some secretarial work. And then we just went on from there. I still do some of his paperwork for him sometimes, because he doesn’t always get the chance to clear everything out of the way at the office, what with being out and about and on site so much of the time. Not that I need to work now, of course, because there’s some really good money in this building business, but you can’t lie around all day topping up the tan, can you?”

  “I suppose you can’t, miss.”

  “Well, not every day, anyway.” All Philippa’s reserved manner seemed to have fallen away from her. “That’s why I do a couple of nights a week down at the bar.”

  “Bar, miss?”

  “Yes. The Runcorn. Alfredo’s place. I work with Eve.”

  “Of course, Miss Glass. Yes, we’ve met Miss Stropper.” Andy Constable took over with a sideways glance and a slight smile in the direction of his junior colleague. “So, you two work together, then? So, how do you find that? A bit different from secretarial work, I should imagine.”