Blood Wedding

by P J Brooke

  ‘Yes. I’m thinking of spending it up in el cortijo. I’ve also got tomorrow off.’

  ‘That must be nice. Max . . . I’m also free. Tomorrow’s free as well. Could I come over and see you this evening? I need to talk to you about it privately. It’s a tricky one.’

  ‘Sure. Stay over if you like.’

  ‘About six? See you later.’

  Max washed his hands, and returned to the kitchen. Paula was there alone. ‘Thanks for the tape,’ he said.

  ‘I should have given it to you earlier. But you must understand how I feel about Juan.’

  ‘Nothing can surprise me now, abuela. The reference to the land deals was very interesting. Maybe that’s how Gonzo got that plot by Felipe’s bar.’

  ‘Oh, that. It wouldn’t surprise me.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  ‘Max . . . you’re standing there with an empty glass. Another cerveza?’

  ‘I’ll get it.’

  ‘You know that the new government is giving permission to dig up suspected Civil War graves?’ I’ve applied for permission to dig in El Fugón.’

  ‘Wow! Well done!’

  Paula grinned . . . and hugged him. ‘If we do find Antonio, I want a proper funeral.’

  ‘Of course. He should have the best.’

  ‘Max, do you think Abbot Jorge would conduct the funeral Mass?’

  ‘It’s not his patch, but I’m sure he would love to do it.’

  ‘He’s been a good friend to you.’

  ‘Yes, he has.’

  ‘Max, I really want to speak at the funeral . . . to tell everyone what happened. We must never let it happen again.’

  ‘That could be a problem with the Archbishop – you know what he’s like, a real traditionalist. But I’m sure Jorge can swing something.’

  The children, encouraging David to meow for titbits, dominated the meal. In the middle of lunch, Jane turned to Max.

  ‘Did you ever find the walrus?’

  ‘The walrus?’

  ‘You know . . . the man I saw on the road in the rain.’

  ‘On the road?’

  ‘Yes. The day we left to go home to England.’

  Max paused. ‘No, we never did. But why walrus?’

  ‘Beause he reminded me of the walrus in my book. I’ve got it here. I’ll show you if you like.’

  ‘Yes. I’d like to see it.’

  She and Encarnita jumped from their chairs, and ran off to Encarnita’s room. They soon returned with the book, an illustrated copy of Lewis Carroll’s The Walrus and the Carpenter.

  Max opened it. ‘I still don’t see . . .’

  ‘Look, I’ll show you,’ said Jane. ‘The best picture is here – look.’ And Jane recited:

  ‘“The time has come,” the Walrus said,

  “To talk of many things:

  Of shoes – and ships – and sealing wax –

  Of cabbages – and kings.”’

  Max took the book. ‘I still—’

  ‘The man I saw looked a bit like the Walrus.’

  ‘The Walrus?’

  Jane and Encarnita both laughed, and skipped out of the room giggling. Max was left staring at the Walrus.

  At the end of the meal he made his apologies, and left as soon as he could. He had to get back and clean el cortijo. He hoped he had clean sheets in the cupboard. Also he needed to think. Had he missed something significant? What was it that Anita had found? Who was the walrus?

  Chapter 30

  Thank God. He did have clean sheets in the cupboard. Not matching, but clean. Max looked at his watch. He had an hour before Anita arrived. A quick wash of the floors, shove the dirty washing in the linen basket, tidy the books and newspapers, then stick the trash in the bin outside the side door. That should do. It only took thirty minutes to finish the tasks. Good. There were two bottles of white wine in the fridge but nothing decent to eat . . . they’d have to go out for a meal. Max looked around. The windows could do with a clean, but he hadn’t time now. A few flowers would brighten the place up. He took the secateurs from the drawer and walked up to the top terrace. There were still some yellow roses blooming. He cut a few sprays, and returned to el cortijo. No vase. He remembered he had thrown out an empty pickle jar. It should still be in the bin. Jar retrieved, washed, and the label removed, he had a vase. Bedroom or sitting room? Best just put the roses in the sitting room. He looked at his watch again. There was still time for a quick shower.

  At exactly six Anita knocked on the door. She was wearing jeans and a pink strappy T-shirt, and was carrying a shoulder bag. Max kissed her warmly on both cheeks. She responded equally warmly.

  ‘I’ve got a bottle of white Don Darías in the fridge. A glass?’ asked Max.

  ‘Love one. My sister is becoming a real pain. Next time I’ll just leave her to sort out her own problems.’

  ‘Let’s have the drink under the olive tree – it’s cool enough now.’

  Max took the bottle and two glasses. He gave Anita a bowl of olives to carry to the table under the olive tree. They sat quietly for a minute.

  ‘Cheers,’ said Max.

  ‘Cheers,’ echoed Anita.

  And they clinked their glasses, smiling at each other.

  ‘Okay,’ said Max. ‘What’s the mystery?’

  ‘It’s probably not significant . . . but it keeps on going round and round in my head. Remember we agreed to follow up Leila’s phone calls? I finally managed to get a copy of her old bills from her mobile phone company – it was a Spanish one, so it took ages for them to fax me copies. I started going through them. Well, there were two calls to a number I recognized from work. I checked my own address book . . . and it’s our Teniente González.’

  ‘González? Well?’

  ‘González never said he knew Leila.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘I played canny on this one. When we sitting around the station chewing the cud, I casually asked if he had ever met Leila. And he said he had never met her, spoken to her or even knew who she was. What do you make of that?’

  ‘That’s interesting. Another glass, Anita?’

  ‘Please. It’s lovely here, so peaceful.’

  ‘Yes. It’s my favourite spot. So what do you make of it?’

  ‘Don’t know. But why should he deny he knew her when I have evidence Leila phoned him twice?’

  ‘Hmm . . . we need to think this through. I’m going to get a biro.’

  Max was back in a minute with notebook, biro and a bowl of almonds.

  ‘Right. One, Leila had phoned González, but he says he’d never had any contact with her. You couldn’t have got this wrong, Anita?’

  ‘No way. Unless someone else had borrowed or stolen Gonzo’s mobile. Not likely. It’s the one he uses for work.’

  ‘Okay. So he must have a reason to hide his contact with Leila. It’s not something you’d forget. It’s a murder case.’

  ‘Yes. And remember, Max – when I phoned you the day we found the body, it was because we couldn’t get hold of González.’

  ‘That’s right. Gonzo turned up after we left to tell Ahmed.’

  ‘Can you remember what he said?’

  ‘Yes. He’d been working on his land, and he can’t get a mobile signal there . . .’

  ‘But Gonzo’s land is by Felipe’s bar, and I’ve never had a problem with my mobile there.’

  Max wrote this down in his notepad. ‘Okay. Anything else?’

  They looked at each other. Max poured another glass of wine.

  ‘Max . . .’ began Anita.

  ‘I don’t know, Anita. He’d been drinking that day. I remember that. He stank of booze. And he was crunching mints like a squirrel.’

  ‘To hide the smell of the booze?’

  ‘Probably. And . . .’ Max’s voice rose in excitement, ‘the mints were in silver paper.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I’m beginning to think that half of Diva were sucking mints in silver wrapping that day.’

  ‘Okay . . . we jumped
to conclusions with Juan, but it’s still evidence,’ said Anita.

  ‘What else have we got . . . He was on edge that night, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Very. But that’s pretty standard when he’s been drinking. So I didn’t think anything of it.’

  ‘What else . . . He really didn’t want me around,’ said Max.

  ‘But he doesn’t like you anyway.’

  ‘True. But when we were reviewing the case, he kept pushing us all to agree it was an accident.’

  ‘Even when it was obvious – even to León – it couldn’t have been a simple accident.’

  Max put some more points in the notebook.

  ‘Okay, Anita. Could it have been González?’

  ‘What have we got?’

  Max looked at his notebook. ‘He denies he had any contact with Leila when we can prove he did. We don’t know for sure where he was at the time of her death, and immediately after. He had silver-wrapped mints. He had been drinking . . . and we know he has a nasty temper. He pushed the accidental death hypothesis very hard, even though someone had tried to hide the body.’

  ‘And,’ added Anita, ‘he tried everything to pin it on Hassan.’

  ‘Yes, he did,’ said Max. ‘But . . . this wouldn’t stand up in a court of law. We wouldn’t even get an investigating judge to pursue it further. We don’t have a motive.’

  Max looked at his watch. ‘Nearly eight,’ he said. ‘Let’s finish the wine, and then wander down to Felipe’s. Hey. That could be useful. That’s where Gonzo left his car the night of Leila’s death.’

  They drank the last of the bottle.

  ‘Whoops, better not have much more. I’d get completely tiddled, and then who knows what might happen,’ laughed Anita.

  ‘Just as well you’re with a gentleman,’ smiled Max.

  They walked down the track to the river at the bottom of the valley, turned left and crossed over the bridge to Felipe’s bar.

  ‘Hola, Anita,’ Felipe said, kissing her on both cheeks as they entered, ‘Max, nice to see you. We got some really good choto in this morning. Cook’s got Choto al Ajillo a la Granadina nearly ready to serve. You two here on business?’ he asked, giving them both a sly look.

  ‘Sort of,’ said Max. ‘Can you give us a corner table, away from the smoke?’

  ‘Sure. Or you might prefer outside.’

  ‘Yes. Outside would be nice.’

  ‘Follow me.’

  He led them to the far corner of the outside terrace, close to a climbing yellow rose.

  ‘It will be all over town, won’t it?’ said Anita. ‘I mean you and me here together . . . and not in uniform.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Max. ‘But we’ll keep them guessing we’re on police business – which we are.’

  Felipe returned with the wine list.

  ‘One of your good Riojas,’ said Max without looking at the list.

  Felipe returned in a minute, uncorked the bottle and poured two generous portions in their glasses.

  ‘No more than one bottle,’ said Anita. ‘I have to walk back up the track.’

  ‘Don’t worry . . . I can always carry you,’ laughed Max.

  The young goat was a little bony, but the smooth spicy sauce, enriched with wine vinegar and the kid’s liver, was, as Felipe claimed, exquisite.

  Felipe came over at the end of the meal. ‘Everything okay?’ he asked.

  ‘Excellent,’ replied Max. ‘Felipe, do you remember the night the Muslim girl, Leila, was killed?’

  ‘Sure I do. She’d been here the night before when we had a band on. Beautiful girl, and a great dancer as well. It’s not often you see one of the Muslim girls dancing away and letting themselves go. You know what that bastard González has done? Ordered me to stop having late night gigs or else he’d shut me down. Claimed some neighbours had complained, but I don’t believe that. The miserable sod just doesn’t like young folk having a good time.’

  Max and Anita looked at each other.

  ‘González left his car here on the Saturday, didn’t he?’ asked Leila.

  ‘Yes. The fat bastard started drinking midday, and he was as pissed as a fart when I closed at four. I persuaded him not to drive. So he had to walk back to his bungalow. He was furious, but he couldn’t have got the key in his ignition. The rain came down after so he would have got soaked. Serves the bastard right.’

  ‘You said bungalow,’ said Max. ‘You mean his place on the Jola road?’

  ‘Yes. He’d been on his land round the back. Kept muttering it could be worth a fortune unless someone tries to screw him. But he was definitely going back to his place on the Jola road. Needed to sleep it off.’

  Max and Anita looked at each other again.

  ‘Do you remember what time he set off?’ asked Anita.

  ‘Yes. It was before the rain came down. About ten past four, I’d say . . . I had to give one of the girls a run to the bus stop.’

  ‘Thanks, Felipe,’ said Max.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ asked Felipe. ‘You got the bastard who killed the girl, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Max. ‘Just doing a bit of research on how country bars deal with customers who’ve come by car and had a bit to drink. Hoped I might have a bit of fun with González. But no chance.’

  Anita flushed slightly.

  ‘Felipe, I don’t want this getting back to Gonzo . . .’

  ‘Sin problema, Max.’

  ‘Gracias, Felipe . . . lovely meal.’

  Felipe left.

  ‘Gonzo’s bungalow is on the far side of the Jola bridge,’ mused Anita. ‘If he left here at ten past four . . . walking . . . he could easily have been on that bridge at five.’

  ‘“It was five, exactly five in the afternoon.”’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. Just a line from Lorca.’

  ‘Lorca?’

  ‘The key thing is . . . González could have been on the bridge at the time of Leila’s death.’

  ‘Could have been. But we don’t know he was.’

  ‘No, we don’t.’

  ‘He’d say he was on his land here – which was why he didn’t answer his mobile when we were trying to get hold of him.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Max. ‘The walrus.’

  ‘The what?’

  ´The walrus of course – “And why the sea is boiling hot.” Jane’s walrus. Look,’ said Max excitedly. He took out the notebook and the biro, and crudely sketched a walrus. ‘Encarnita’s friend, Jane, said she saw a man who looked like a walrus. Look – this is González with his bald head, droopy moustache and fat belly. See the resemblance?’

  ‘You’re right. But I still can’t see a judge giving us permission to proceed. All González has to do is stick to his original story. Told Felipe he was going back to his Jola place, then saw it was about to rain, so went to his little hut close by here. The walrus thing wouldn’t stand up for a second. I don’t expect Jane could pick him out in an ID parade’

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Max sadly.

  ‘And where’s the motive? There isn’t one.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Land,’ exclaimed Max. ‘Of course. Land.’

  ‘I don’t get it,’ said Anita.

  ‘Land. That’s the motive. González was hoping to get his land rezoned. It would be worth a fortune if he got permission to build houses on it. As it stands it’s purely agricultural land – he can’t even replace his hut with a decent house.’

  ‘Max, I bet this was El Gato’s land. Gonzo’s grandfather must have got his hands on it after he killed El Gato.’

  ‘It’s not worth much now. But with building permission . . .?’

  ‘And Leila must have found out that this land used to belong to El Gato. She went through the land registry for the period with a fine-tooth comb.’

  ‘So Leila would have phoned González to discuss it with him. That’s the connection.’

  ‘Right. If Gonzo was getting the land rezoned,
he would have been furious with anyone who might have threatened his deal.’

  ‘So maybe he gets a letter from someone on Saturday morning . . . He goes into Felipe’s to drown his sorrows. Felipe chucks him out of the bar, and he has to walk home. Runs into Leila on the bridge. They start arguing, and Leila ends up down the ravine. Whether he killed her deliberately or accidentally, we’ll never know. But that he killed her, I’m sure.’

  ‘Max . . . that’s it. But what do we do? We could end up in real trouble,’ said Anita.

  ‘I’ll keep you out of it, Anita,’ said Max. ‘Hell, it’s really late. Let’s sleep on it.’

  ‘Sleep?’

  Max paid. They set off back along the track while bats hunted overhead. Max had forgotten his torch. They missed the turning and had to follow a dry stream to get back to el cortijo.

  ‘I desperately need a strong coffee,’ said Anita.

  ‘So do I. I’ll put the kettle on.’

  After the coffee, Anita smiled shyly at Max. ‘Where’s the bathroom? I’ll go and get changed.’

  ‘Over there,’ said Max. ‘I’ll be in the bedroom.’

  Max went into his small bedroom, put the pillow up, and lay down on the bed. Anita appeared in the doorway, the light from the living room illuminating her black hair.

  ‘How do I look, Max? Do you like my nightdress?’

  ‘You look gorgeous,’ Max said. ‘And the nightdress is beautiful. But you’d look even more beautiful without it.’

  ‘Is that an order, sir?’ she said.

  The nightdress fell to the floor. Anita swayed towards Max.

  ‘Any more orders, sir?’

  They both awoke with the chirping of the sparrows.

  Max prepared breakfast. He made sure the coffee was strong. Anita was shy, hesitant, not sure what to say. Max kissed her, leaning over the breakfast table.

  She smiled, and kissed him back. ‘We could go back to bed,’ she said. ‘After all, it is our day off.’

  ‘You’re right. It is our day off. We’ll discuss the case further after lunch.’

  Lunch was a simple affair – tortilla with aspirins. Neither could face more alcohol, so Max opened a litre bottle of cold mineral water.