Relatively Dangerous

by Roderic Jeffries

  ‘Señora, I am investigating the death of Señor Steven Taylor.’

  ‘So you mentioned earlier, but I’m certain I’ve never met anyone with that name so I don’t really see how I can help.’

  ‘About three years ago he changed his name to Steven Thompson.’

  ‘D’you mean the man who was killed in a car crash on the island? Good heavens! I was so sorry to read about that. So often the nicest people die before their time . . . He whom the gods favour dies young. So true and so sad . . . Now, what about Mr Thompson; or Mr Taylor, as you say his name really was?’

  ‘Three years ago he was about to be arrested for fraud by the English police and so he faked his own death to escape —which was why he changed his name.’

  ‘This island really does attract the most extraordinary people! David always said that the interesting foreigners who came to live here all had something to hide; being rather outspoken to me, he added that the uninteresting ones were far too boring ever to have done anything. I’d certainly never have guessed that Mr Taylor could have been like that because he was so friendly and amusing. Living on one’s own, humour is one of the things one misses most. It’s almost impossible to be funny with oneself.’

  ‘Where did you meet him?’

  ‘At a cocktail-party.’ She chuckled as she looked down at the faded and patched print dress she was wearing. I know I hardly look like cocktail-party material at the moment, but I promise you that I can smarten up!’

  ‘Did he sell you some shares?’

  ‘How on earth did you know that 0 ‘ She laughed again. ‘Perhaps one ought to say that I persuaded him to sell them to me. You see. he’d stayed on after the party because he had a sudden attack of migraine and was hoping it would go before he needed to drive back and I’d staved on because the Galbraiths had invited me to supper. He started talking to them about some shares which were absolutely bound to increase in value. He was very enthusiastic and obviously hoping the Galbraiths would buy some, but they’re very rich and so they’ll never do anything that isn’t their idea in the first place. Anyway, I was thrilled because of the chance to make a little money and towards the end of the evening I buttonholed him and told him he must sell me some of the shares.’

  ‘Forty thousand, I think 0 ’

  ‘Now tell me, how in the wide world did you discover that as well?’

  ‘I had to search through his private papers and I found a note of the number of shares two or three people had bought.’

  ‘And here was I beginning to think you must be clairvoyant!’ She refilled her glass, passed the bottle across to him. ‘You shouldn’t have explained. Wasn’t it Sherlock Holmes who said something to the effect that the brilliance of a deduction could never survive an explanation?’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know; I have never read any of the stories, only seen them on the television.’

  ‘Not the same thing at all. The subtlety is lost. Especially. I imagine, in translation.’

  ‘Señora, about two months later, you sold the shares back to him, didn’t you?’

  ‘That’s correct. He turned up here and asked me if I’d like to sell them. He explained how the shares had risen in value and he wanted me to enjoy the profit. It was so kind of him.’

  ‘And he bought them back at ten cents?’

  ‘Indeed, and didn’t charge any commission so that it was all profit. In two months, I more than doubled my money. It made me feel very guilty that originally, after I’d given him my cheque, I began to worry in case he wasn’t quite honest. You see, I’d never met him before that night and if I’d lost all the money . . . It would have been quite terrible.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘Señora, I’m sorry, but I think you have to understand that when he sold you those shares they were probably really only worth two cents each.’

  ‘He had to make a little money for all his trouble, didn’t he? And he knew they were going to increase in value.’

  ‘At the time he sold them to you, he did not expect them ever to increase in value.’

  ‘Isn’t that rather a nasty thing to say?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s the truth. He was a swindler who was intent on swindling you.’

  ‘How can you possibly say that when he more than doubled my money for me?’

  ‘That only happened because unexpectedly the shares shot right up in value. And when he bought them back from you, he should have paid you five dollars a share, not ten cents.’

  She was silent for a while, then she said quite firmly: ‘I don’t care, I shall remember him as someone who made me laugh and who helped me make some money.’

  The contrast between her attitude towards events and those of Muriel Taylor, Wheeldon, and Reading-Smith, could hardly have been greater. He knew a sense of warm thankfulness that not everyone put money before all else. ‘Señora, I wish there were more people who think like you,’ he said impulsively.

  ‘That’s very kind of you. You really are the nicest possible detective!’

  He felt slightly embarrassed and said hurriedly: ‘I am afraid I have to ask you one more thing.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Talking with you is a real pleasure.’

  ‘Did Señor Taylor come here about three weeks ago?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, yes, he did.’

  ‘That was to persuade you to buy some more shares?’

  ‘It’s funny you should say that because I told him I wanted to, but he wouldn’t let me. No, he came to give me another thousand pounds.’

  ‘He gave you money?’

  ‘You sound surprised? I tell you, whatever his past is, he was a nice man. He said that when he’d sold the shares they’d done even better than he’d expected and he felt he owed me the extra.’

  He now understood why she had repeatedly said that her money had been more than doubled. He thought he also understood the sequence of events. Taylor had originally met her at a cocktail-party given by very wealthy people and so he had imagined her to be, at the very least, reasonably well off; that she had not been expensively dressed would not have counted for much because a certain kind of rich woman was often eccentric in some matters. But when he had first visited her in her house he had immediately realized that far from being wealthy, she was poor. So he had later given her the money he had just swindled out of Wheeldon and Reading-Smith (the third act of swindling, by which he had proved to himself that he really was the best), enjoying to the full the role of Robin Hood . . .

  A quarter of an hour and another glass of wine later, he said he must leave. She hoped he’d come again and he replied that he certainly would if he could think of an excuse that would fool his superior chief.

  He was outside, about to go down the stone steps to his car, when she said: ‘I wish you had come here a few years ago.’

  ‘Why, señora?’

  ‘Because then we were both alive and well and the whole of the garden was a mass of colour. David used to say that one of the few things created by man that was truly beautiful was the garden. He wrote a lovely poem about that.’

  ‘There is still a lot of colour.’

  She looked up, shading her eyes from the sun with her hand. ‘But it’s not like it used to be. And my gardener’s finally left so now the weeds will grow unchecked and the only flowers which will survive will be those which don’t need watering and don’t mind being crowded . . . But I shouldn’t really talk like that. David loved a cultivated garden, but he believed that a natural one, even with all its weeds, was still beautiful.’ She tilted her head back as she looked even higher. ‘Do you know why I shall remember Mr Taylor for the nice things he did, not the nasty?’

  It was clearly a rhetorical question.

  ‘Because the money he made me helped to make certain I can live here just a little longer.’

  He finally said goodbye and left. As he drove away, he felt both uplifted and saddened; uplifted because she had proved that there were still those who were untouched by avarice, saddene
d because she had shown that old age was a time when one had to search too hard to find compensation for living.

  CHAPTER 18

  As Alvarez left his parked car and walked towards the nearer back door of Las Cinco Palmeras, something began to bother him. Only as he knocked on the door of the kitchen did he identify what that something was—the silence.

  ‘Who is it?’ Helen called out.

  ‘Enrique Alvarez, señora.’

  ‘Come on in.’

  She was wearing damp, stained overalls over a T-shirt. ‘You don’t by any chance know anything about plumbing, do you?’

  ‘I regret not.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to make a tap work and can’t. Soon, I shall assault it with the biggest hammer I can find.’

  ‘But why are the builders not here? I saw Javier and he promised to start work just as soon as he could. I will go now and see him and tell him that if he doesn’t come immediately . . .’

  She brushed some hair away from her forehead. ‘Don’t waste your time.’ Her tone was suddenly bitter.

  ‘I can promise you . . .’

  ‘He turned up and said he’d start the moment his bill was paid.’

  ‘But I thought . . .’

  ‘So did I. But Mike, the silly fool, never told me the truth because he was trying to protect me from the worry. Practically all the money Mike’s father gave him for the repairs .as paid out for the funeral.’

  ‘Oh!’ There was really nothing more he could find to say immediately. Then he struggled to reintroduce a note of optimism. ‘Perhaps if he spoke to one of the other and smaller builders, he could persuade them to do the work now, but wait to be paid until you are open and making money?’

  ‘Mike thought of that right away. He’s seen every local firm and not one of them will do it. The trouble seems to be, quite a few foreigners haven’t been paying their bills once their houses are finished because they’ve learned how slow the law moves and how difficult it is to recover a debt. One or two are even boasting about how clever they are in not paying—God, what I could do to them! . . . When you arrived, I was trying to see if I could do some of the work. I’ve discovered I can’t . . . Anyway, that’s enough of that.

  What’s brought you here this time—not more trouble, please.’

  ‘I hope it won’t be that,’ he answered uncomfortably, ‘but I have to speak to the señor.’

  ‘He went off to see someone who might lend us the money in return for a stake in the restaurant. The trouble is, this person wants such a large stake. I suppose you can’t really blame him because it’s good business. But I’m always so stupid I hope people will help in the same way that I’d try to help them.’

  He wished he had the money to offer and so drive away from her blue eyes the worry that filled them.

  They heard the whine of the approaching Citroen van.

  ‘Go and sit out in the front,’ she said, making a determined attempt to lighten her mood, ‘and I’ll send Mike out with a drink.’

  ‘There’s no need for that.’

  ‘We’ve plenty of alcohol, if nothing else.’

  He went through the restaurant and sat at the nearest table, in the shade of a palm tree. A couple of minutes later Taylor, a glass in each hand, came out. ‘What the hell is it this time?’ His manner suggested that the meeting with the possible backer had not been successful.

  ‘I have just returned from Corleon—did you know that that is where your father lived?’

  ‘I told you last time, I’d no idea where he was.’

  ‘With him lived a friend; a very beautiful young lady.’

  ‘He always did have good taste.’

  ‘The house and large yacht were bought in her name and so now are hers.’

  ‘That ought to help dry a few of her tears.’

  ‘But did you know that under his will, you are his sole beneficiary?’

  ‘How the hell could I?’

  ‘He must have discussed the matter with you.’

  ‘Maybe he must, but he bloody didn’t.’

  ‘Nevertheless, as his only child, you must have expected this?’

  ‘I expected nothing.’

  ‘Where are his assets?’

  ‘How would I know?’

  ‘You father must have told someone so that they could be distributed according to his will after his death.’

  ‘Like as not, he didn’t have any to worry about.’

  ‘Why do you say that? A man doesn’t usually spend all his money and so leave himself without any reserves.’

  ‘My old man didn’t know about “usually”. He subscribed to Barnum’s philosophy—there’s a sucker born every minute. So when he needed money, he went out and found a sucker.’

  ‘He gave you the money to buy this restaurant and to meet the cost of the original repairs?’

  ‘Where’s the problem? Obviously, he’d just found a sucker.’

  ‘In fact, he’d found at least three. He sold them Australian mining shares at five cents when they were probably only worth two.’

  ‘That’s my father.’

  ‘He bought them back at ten cents because by then they stood at around five dollars. He made about three million dollars.’

  Taylor stared at Alvarez for several seconds, then laughed. ‘So the old bastard really did find El Dorado!’

  ‘Where do you think all that money is?’

  ‘The answer remains, I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Are you certain of that?’

  ‘What are you trying to get at?’ Taylor’s expression sharpened. ‘Last time you were here, you were talking about the possibility my father was poisoned.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘Was he?’

  ‘The results of the post mortem aren’t yet through.’

  ‘But you’re behaving as if they were. You’re bloody wondering if I murdered him for the three million dollars, aren’t you?’

  ‘I have to investigate that possibility/

  ‘It hasn’t occurred to your sweeping intelligence that if I had, I wouldn’t now be tearing out my hair trying to find the money to pay the builders?’

  ‘Perhaps the safest way of concealing new wealth would be to give the appearance of remaining hard up.’

  ‘You’ve a mind like a bloody sewer. He was my father.’

  ‘Sadly, sons murder fathers. And as you have told me, the relationship between the two of you was less than close.’

  They heard the sounds of Helen’s coming out of the restaurant and turned to watch her approach. ‘I wondered if you were ready for another drink?’

  Taylor said bitterly: ‘Remember telling me what a wonderful man the Inspector was: so kind and thoughtful and not at all like a policeman?’

  ‘What on earth’s the matter?’

  ‘Your wonderfully kind and thoughtful inspector has just accused me of murdering my own father.’

  ‘No, señor, I did not say that,’ objected Alvarez quietly. ‘I said that I have to investigate the possibility that you did; if indeed he was murdered. That means establishing whether you had a motive—and you had. But in this, you are not alone. There are four other people who also had one.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The three whom he tricked out of a great deal of money and Señorita Benbury, who may well know where the fortune is held and is determined to get hold of it for herself.’

  CHAPTER 19

  Alvarez was pouring himself a second brandy when the telephone rang. Juan said he’d answer it and ran out of the dining-room into the front room. Dolores said from the kitchen doorway: ‘When you’ve finished drinking, the meal’s ready.’

  ‘Give it a quarter of an hour,’ replied Jaime.

  ‘You are not going to eat?’

  ‘Of course I am. What . . .’

  ‘Then your drinking’s finished.’ She returned into the kitchen.

  ‘Women!’ he muttered, as he looked at his empty glass and the bottle. ‘I’ve a good mind to . . .’
He did not specify what. It wasn’t that he was afraid of incurring Dolores’s wrath—no Mallorquin husband could ever be so weak— but experience had taught him that her standards of cooking varied according to her humour and he greatly enjoyed his food.

  Juan returned. ‘The call’s for you, Uncle.’

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Alvarez.

  ‘Someone who talks very fast.’

  Off-hand, he couldn’t think of anyone who spoke particularly quickly.

  He carried his glass through to the front room, drank just before he said: ‘Yes?’

  ‘This is Borne speaking.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘I said, this is Comisario Borne.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Comisario. It’s just that my nephew—who isn’t really my nephew—said that the caller spoke very fast, not that it was you, and I was wondering who it could be and then you said Borne and I have a friend who’s name is rather like that, but he doesn’t live in Palma and you don’t sound like him and I was a bit confused.’

  ‘Clearly. I am ringing to inform you that a telex has just arrived from England. It reads: Re Steven Taylor stop Private investigator identified as Raymond Barton stop Retained on eighteenth April to investigate Steven Thompson who was described as fraudulently selling shares in Mallorca stop Through unidentified police contacts Barton finally identified Thompson as Steven Taylor stop Transmitted to client full details of Taylor’s criminal record and supposed death stop Client’s name Reading-Smith address Casa Resta Cala del Dia stop Hope it’s stair-rodding with you stop Ian Wallace . . . Do you understand the meaning of that last sentence?’

  ‘I think, señor, that Detective-Sergeant Wallace is hoping that it’s raining here because the weather in England is so bad.’