The Domingo Armada Mysteries Box Set

by Jefferson Bonar

  For now, he would just focus on getting through another cold night. He’d found the rat-eaten blanket on the road the day before and it helped, although it was full of fleas, as a couple of stray dogs had been using it before him. Lucas planted his back against the wall and slid his way down to a sitting position, grunting as he went. Once he felt his bottom hit the ground, he let out a breath and tried to ignore the stabbing pains in his midsection, which were getting worse now. It was getting harder to sleep. His hunger mixed with his worsening injuries, which only spurred on his worried mind. Lucas felt like he was beginning to go mad.

  All was quiet on the road just across from the Benaudalla villa, as it always was. It had gone dark now, leaving Lucas to wonder once again why he stayed so close. Perhaps hoping Julian would come outside, giving him a reason to speak again? But he hadn’t seen Julian leave the house since they’d arrived. Was he hiding?

  The unusual sound of stumbling footsteps in the road wrestled Lucas away from his thoughts. It was directly across from Lucas, just in front of Julian’s villa. It was odd in that they were not the footsteps of someone walking normally. They were quieter, stepping lightly so as not to be heard. If Lucas hadn’t been sitting just across the road, he wouldn’t have heard them at all.

  They stopped just in front of Julian’s villa. Lucas leaned forward. He could just barely make out the outline of someone in dark clothing standing there. It was hard to tell if the person had his back to Lucas, or if they stared right at him. Lucas held his breath, trying not to make a sound.

  The intruder began to move, and Lucas could tell they had their back to him. They kept their focus on the house, looking over every corner of the wall and the gate, looking for a way in.

  Lucas watched as the murky outline of the intruder then began to slink their way down along the stone wall toward the back of the property, where a small gate had been installed just near the garden shed.

  Something was wrong with all of this. It was clear even from the street that there were candles burning inside. At times, Lucas could even hear the drunken cackling of Julian inside. It was clear there were people at home. And yet, this only seemed to spur the intruder on.

  Which meant they probably weren’t here looking for an easy break-in. They had a more sinister agenda.

  They must be here for Julian.

  With the intruder now lost in the darkness in the back of the house, Lucas planted his cane on the cobbles and struggled to his feet. The soreness returned and radiated throughout his entire body, but he was getting used to it now. He could move his body in a sort of awkward, sideways shuffle and it seemed to allow him to move without hurting as much.

  Dragging his cane over cobbles in the darkness was difficult, as the cane sometimes got wedged between them and nearly sent Lucas crashing to the ground. Lucas couldn’t help but pant for breath to overcome the pain and wished he didn’t have to drag his shoes quite so loudly over the gravelly stones, but he eventually made it to the wall and began to follow the intruder toward the back. If he did encounter them, Lucas wasn’t sure what he could do beyond shout and yell and frighten them off with the threat of attention. Assuming he didn’t get a dagger in the chest first.

  The darkness in the back of the stone wall was almost complete and Lucas now stumbled about in the dark. But he wasn’t alone. There was the sound of someone grunting, their shoes scratching as they struggled to find grip. And the sound was coming from above his head.

  The intruder had found somewhere to climb over the wall and was in the middle of throwing their body over.

  “Hey! Hey, stop there!” Lucas called out.

  The intruder swung their body over the wall and disappeared into the back garden of Julian’s villa.

  Lucas had little hope of following and instead did his awkward, sideways shuffle back toward the road and around to the front door.

  Lucas rapped on the door. “Julian! Julian! Open the door! Quick!”

  Lucas held his breath, listening for any signs of movement inside.

  Something was smashed on the floor from somewhere in the kitchen. Feet scuffled about and someone yelped.

  Lucas took his cane and tried to pry open the front door with it, but the thick oak planks would not give. Lucas then turned his attention to the front windows that overlooked the road. They twinkled by the light of the stars, which meant they were made of glass.

  Lucas’s cane made short work of them, sending most of one window to the ground in tiny shards. A few more blows took out the decorative metal grating that held it all up and soon Lucas had a way into the house.

  But it wouldn’t be easy, as the window was quite high off the ground. If he was uninjured, a bit of a run and a jump could have gotten him up there. But that wasn’t going to be possible. Instead, Lucas had to grip the bottom of the windowsill and plant his feet on the rough brick wall outside, then push in order to heave his body inside.

  After a few painful tries, Lucas managed to swing his body over the windowsill. He landed hard on the tile floor just inside the parlour. His body screamed in pain but he didn’t have time. He could hear the fight continuing in the back by the kitchen and he struggled to his feet.

  “Julian! Julian!” Lucas cried as he hobbled his way to his feet once more, decrying the fact that he hadn’t thought to throw his chair-leg cane into the window first. Lucas’s left ankle had begun to swell and was too painful to put any weight on, so he shifted his weight to his right leg and hopped across the parlour toward the kitchen.

  Suddenly someone in black shot out of the kitchen and smashed into Lucas’s body, not expecting anyone to be in the parlour. They both fell to the floor. Lucas could hear the intruder jumping to their feet and knew he couldn’t follow. But he could make their escape more difficult.

  Lucas reached out and grabbed their leg, holding it as firm as he could while the intruder attempted to kick him off. Lucas refused to let go and grabbed the other leg with his right hand, trying to drag them down to the floor.

  The intruder kicked violently. One of the kicks landed in Lucas’s midsection, causing him to cry out. The intruder realised this and continued to rain blows into his stomach until the pain of his broken ribs was too much and Lucas let go. The sound of the intruder disappeared down the corridor toward the back bedrooms. He heard them go out the window and soon everything was quiet.

  Lucas took a few minutes to recover and worried he might pass out. But the thought of what might be occurring in the kitchen spurred him back to his feet.

  “Julian!” he called, but got no reply.

  Lucas leaned heavily on walls and furniture as he went, hobbling his way along like an elderly man toward the back kitchen.

  In the doorway was Federigo, his lifeless body lying across the threshold of the doorway, blood pouring from the back of his head.

  Fear now numbed Lucas’s body. For there was no other sound in the room. Which meant only one thing.

  Lucas moved past Federigo and into the back part of the kitchen, where only hours before Julian had accused him of betraying him.

  By the light of one of the candles that had been knocked on the floor and now slowly spread hot wax everywhere, Lucas could see Julian sprawled out on the floor, a broken brandy bottle having been smashed and used as a weapon to pierce his gut. One hand was wrapped around it, suggesting he’d used his last few minutes of life trying to pull it out. But the amount of blood on the floor showed his efforts were futile.

  Julian de Benaudalla was dead. Murdered along with his butler, whose only crime had been getting in the way. Despite the horror of the scene, Lucas found his thoughts drifting toward the case.

  This was conclusive proof that Julian had known a lot more than he’d let on. There was a good chance that whomever did this horrific deed tonight also killed Gregorio Cordoba for the same reason. But what lay at the centre of it all?

  Lucas’s thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of an older couple at the doorway of the kitchen, with
looks of horror as their eyes gazed down at their dead son.

  For Lucas, his pain that night had only begun.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Armada was woken by a violent shake of the shoulder. His first thought was anger at being roused from such a rare deep sleep. He hadn’t even believed he would get any rest the night before, having stayed up long into the night drinking sherry, trying to temper his worrying. As soon as Rodriguez had left him, he had gone to Ambrosio’s pupilaje to learn that both Lucas and Julian had snuck away together into the night. Lucas was now out of Armada’s reach. He could no longer protect the boy.

  All the sherry in the world couldn’t quiet the guilt he’d felt. If Lucas were to end up dead as Gregorio did, he would never forgive himself for having put Lucas’s head into the lion’s mouth like that. If only he’d put it all together sooner! Now all he could think of was the sight of Gregorio Cordoba’s office, and the brutality it showed. It was so easy to see Julian being the holder of that savagery, and as the night wore on, it became ever more real in Armada’s head.

  Which was why it was such a surprise to be awakened to see the sunlight coming in through the window.

  The headache hit him first, and as Armada sat up, a sickness spread through his stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything last night and had drunk too much sherry. His mouth was as parched as a desert, his head throbbing. The thought of food only made it worse.

  Armada looked up to see who had so rudely woken him to find Rodriguez.

  “Yes, yes…,” Armada grumbled as he climbed to his feet. “At least give me the dignity of a bit of breakfast before you kick me out.”

  Armada found it unusual that Rodriguez said nothing. There was a bowl of water in the corner and Armada splashed a bit of it on his face to wake up, then dried himself with a rag before looking over at Rodriguez, who looked deeply worried.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes, sir…,” Rodriguez said. “It’s…it’s your page. That boy, Lucas.”

  “What about him?” Armada shouted, coming over to Rodriguez.

  “I bring news.”

  “Has something happened to him? What?”

  “Last night…he—”

  “Is he alive? Go on!”

  “…he killed someone…Julian de Benaudalla. Him and his butler…at the villa of the Duke of Frades. They took him into custody last night. He’s in the ayuntamiento right now.”

  “Killed them? Lucas?”

  All thoughts of his hangover left him as Armada hurried from the room and to the ayuntamiento as quickly as he could.

  “Lucas?”

  Armada’s voice echoed about in the dark jail cell, disturbing the peaceful stillness that had been there moments before. Armada found himself holding his breath, not moving his body, as if the noise of living here would be too much for Lucas, who was lying on a bench underneath the tiny window just above his head. He was laying on his side, his left leg awkwardly extended as it was too painful to curl up with his other. He wasn’t moving, but the painful wheezing coming from his nose made it clear he was alive.

  “Sir….”

  Armada wasn’t sure what tone to take. He knew he should be angry, if only to give Lucas what he’d been expecting. But he didn’t feel it. There were too many other thoughts bouncing around in his head at the moment. He couldn’t make sense of them.

  “How are you?” An inane question for someone who was injured and starving in a jail cell. But Armada didn’t know what else to say.

  “Are they going to hang me, sir?”

  Armada wanted to assure him they wouldn’t. He wanted to say that he would be out of this cell and recovering back in Granada within a few days.

  But it wasn’t true. And Lucas was the one person Armada couldn’t lie to. Especially after everything that had happened. It wasn’t fair to him.

  “No. Of course not.” It was like Armada had heard someone else say it. Where had that come from?

  “You don’t believe I did it, do you?”

  “Of course not, Lucas. I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not a killer. But I would like to know—”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry….”

  Armada realised Lucas was weeping. He hadn’t seen Lucas do that for a long time. He wondered why that was.

  “Yes…,” Armada said. “Don’t worry about that now.”

  “I never should have left, sir. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking….”

  “I think I do,” Armada said, leaning against the bars. “You were thinking your friends, these glorious friends of yours. They are the most important thing in your life now. And you would do anything for them. They are your future. They define you. You have a role in a group, even if it is just to be picked on. It makes you feel alive in a way you can never be with me. With me, all you ever seem to feel…is death.”

  Lucas looked up at Armada through his tears, having no response to such a brutal truth.

  “I know how that feels. Whether in university, or in the army, the actual work that is required of you is ignored whenever possible, there is far too much drink and violence, and you make friends that you feel you would die for. In the army’s case, this feeling is frequently tested.”

  “Are you angry, sir?”

  “For what?”

  “I told Julian you were going to arrest him. That’s why he went back to his home. He thought his father would protect him from arrest. And I went with him…I don’t know why…but I shouldn’t have….”

  “Yes, I suspected that,” Armada said. “I’m just glad you survived your encounter with the killer. Did you happen to get a look at him?”

  “No, sir. He was wearing a hood. I managed to grab his leg at one point, but he kicked me. I couldn’t hold on. It hurt too much.”

  “It’s all right, Lucas.”

  “So, are you angry, sir?”

  Armada was surprised Lucas asked that again. Was that what his mind had been on since they’d locked him up in here? The boy must have gone through quite an ordeal with nothing but thoughts like that to keep him occupied.

  “I don’t know,” Armada heard himself say. It was an honest answer, but he wasn’t sure he should have given it. What was the alternative? To lie to the boy? To let him believe there were no consequences? It was all too complicated for Armada to consider right now. He wasn’t even sure he should punish the boy, or how. He was tempted to let the matter go. It was simpler. But what if it happened again? How could he be sure Lucas would remain loyal to the case?

  I don’t know. It was the only answer he had right now.

  “I suppose this means Julian didn’t kill Gregorio Cordoba,” Lucas said. “I thought for a while it might be Federigo, the butler. But he was killed, too. It means it must be Aurelio, right?”

  Armada was impressed. After everything, the boy was still thinking about the case. His mind couldn’t let it go. The puzzle still had to be solved.

  “That would be an easy assumption to make, if it were not for Aurelio having been in a cell of his own, in this very jail,, all night.”

  “So, if it isn’t Aurelio, and it isn’t Julian, and it isn’t Federigo…?”

  Armada began to pace about outside Lucas’s cell. Despite the circumstances, it was good to be going over the case with Lucas again, like the old days.

  “We may not have a suspect, Lucas, but we have a timeline. Thus far, there have been four murders. Aurelio Martinez was the first, occurring months before we got here.”

  “Aurelio Martinez, sir?”

  “The real Aurelio Martinez, whose body was discovered by Gregorio Cordoba and Julian de Benaudalla, both of whom were killed in order to keep them quiet. The killer has gone to extraordinary lengths to hide this first murder. They are growing desperate, which means I am getting close. ‘Now the mast of patience is broken and fear blows the ship wildly from its course.’”

  “Calderon, sir?”

  Armada smiled. It wasn’t. It was Lope de Vega, one of
Armada’s favourite lines from his masterwork Fuenteovejuna. It didn’t seem the right time to correct Lucas’s citation, so he let him believe he’d gotten it right. Anything to cheer the boy up.

  “Did you see the spot where Aurelio’s body was found?” Lucas asked. “Did you know where it was?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe you should go back, sir. Look around at the site. Riselo says there can be impressions left behind in the dust that might suggest what kind of shoe—”

  “Oh Lucas, not that damned Italian book again.”

  “No, sir, it could help. Riselo says to catalogue all the footprints you find. One of them might be an impression of the killer, which could give you a foot size, or—”

  “You and your bits and pieces, Lucas. Enough!”

  “But sir—”

  “I said, enough!” Armada hadn’t realised how upset he was getting. He’d shouted loud enough for the murmurs of pedestrians outside the window to wonder what was going on. He was panting, and his palms were becoming sweaty.

  “Sir…?”

  “Yes, Lucas,” Armada said through gritted teeth.

  “Are you angry?”

  “You already asked me that. I don’t have time to—”

  “I know, but you didn’t really answer it. Are you angry?”

  “Of course, I am!”

  Lucas flinched from Armada’s forceful reply this time. The cast iron bars between them, that had once seemed so solid and immovable, now seemed to dissolve away.

  “You are the one person, Lucas. The one person in this world I could trust. And after last night…you’ve ruined it. I don’t know what to…say…about that. I understand you are growing up, becoming your own man. But I’m not sure that’s what this is.”