He entered the director's office with a half eaten churro in his hand and a mouth full of dough.
He finished chewing and asked, "What happened to the stove?"
"Qué?" Frogo asked.
His face revealed he didn't understand Duncan's question.
"What happened to the stove that fell on Ms. Peña? Duncan repeated.
"Oh. We sent it back to the factory and they replaced it. The stove appeared to be in one piece still, but the insides were all a mess, completely broken. Close the door, will you?" he added.
Duncan felt sure the stove, with the cable still attached, had killed Ella. He needed to put to rest any thoughts that the body had been moved and the scene staged. He'd encountered that sort of thing before. The inside of the stove broken to bits, confirmed that the stove indeed dropped on Ella. He closed the office door and took his usual seat.
"I spoke with Mondo just now," Frogo began. "I told him I hired his next assistant and that she had not come from the agency. He knows they refuse to send anyone else. I told him she came highly recommended and that I had a connection with one of her relatives, so he must treat her well. He was not happy to hear he would be working with a woman, I must tell you. He still has a week to get used to the idea. In the meantime, he will shoulder all the responsibility for academy meals. I hope he'll be so relieved to get some help by then that he will behave."
"Let's trust he does," Duncan replied. "I'm going to head back to the casa for siesta today. My brother should arrive before lunch, so I plan to work at home the rest of the day," he added.
"Very well. We will miss you around here. You may want to stop by for tea, no? Mondo might be disappointed if you don't show," Frogo said, smiling.
Duncan wasn't sure if the director was jesting. But, just in case, he'd drop by the kitchen and let the chef know he wouldn't be there for tea time today.
The sun beat down on Duncan as he strolled to the casa. He kept an eye out in case he met his brother on the road, but there was no sign of Angus and no message on his mobile. Once inside, he checked his laptop for emails and the status of his fault tree analysis. The program had crashed again. Duncan set up shop at the kitchen table and reworked his input to the gates. The software had failed at the point where he'd included employee makes extra key to crane. From experience, he knew this failure could be the result of many things. At Lawful and General he had the computer power to run multiple analyses at once. He didn't have that luxury now, so he'd need to put careful thought into each fault tree he set up, to avoid wasting time on system crashes.
Duncan was deep in thought when Mary placed his lunch beside him on the table. Concentrating, he never even heard her moving about the kitchen. Nor did he see her scrutinizing his fault tree results. He looked at the large plate before him. It included grapes and something he could not recognize with an orange slice and parsley on the top. He glanced at Mary.
"Migas," she said, then explained, "bread crumbs with olive oil infused with garlic. It's a favorite at home, Señor Duncan."
"Thank you, Mary."
He never imagined bread crumbs could be a main dish. It looked appealing though, and he dug in. He found the simple fare delicious and it went well with the small red grapes the housekeeper provided. Once he'd polished off his lunch, Duncan went back to work and never noticed Mary clearing the table and straightening the kitchen. She shook her head in disbelief as she slipped from the room and made a telephone call. She'd never seen someone concentrate so, for such a long period.
Duncan was still tweaking his program when his computer pinged, announcing an email. He moved to his inbox where a message from his private investigator waited. It read,
Ella Peña born 1947 in Madrid, Spain. Her father was a school teacher and mother a homemaker. Humble upbringing, but appeared to have learned much at home from her father. Passed standard tests with high scores and left school at sixteen. She worked in a factory in 1967, but was enrolled at the University of Salamanca by 1968. Roomed with a Betty Gruber. She seems to have left school abruptly in 1969 and married a Roberto Dominguez. Roberto deceased by 1971 when Ella listed marital status as widow on employment application. Not much available on Ella from 1970 until mid 1980's when she began working as a cook in Madrid. Steady employment in various restaurants in and around Madrid and night classes at cooking schools throughout 1990's. Never remarried. No known living next of kin. - Ben Davis
Ella was not a young woman when she died. Her biography saddened Duncan as much as her photo had repelled him. Who would want to murder such a person? And he was certain it was murder. Not only did his intuition tell him this, but his initial fault tree analysis gave failure of the upper limit lever a negligible probability. That meant less than one percent. In his experience, that ruled out an accident. The crane's arm had not failed, the rigging had not snapped, either. The hook had fallen without warning, putting the load in a free-fall and crushing Ella Peña. Yet, history and his analysis ruled out equipment failure.
His computer pinged again, notifying Duncan another email had arrived. He opened his second message from Ben Davis and began reading,
Philip Torillo, owner, questionable character. Alcala's insurance cancelled several times over years due to lack of payment. Juan Mendez, crane operator, worked for Alcala for six years. His Operator's License expired six months prior to accident. Other crew members not licensed or listed by Alcala on required government forms. Mendez residing in Madrid. Location of Ernie Valdez and Joseph Avilar unknown.
His computer screen became more difficult to see and he realized he'd been squinting. The sun dropped low enough in the sky for one of its beams to reach Duncan in the west facing kitchen. He checked his watch. It was already eight! Where is Angus? He worried about his brother. He should have arrived six hours ago. He looked at his cellular, but there were no messages there. A quick glance at his inbox revealed nothing. He tried to think straight. His head hurt from concentrating and eye strain. Earlier, he had noticed the aroma of coffee, although he hadn't paused his work to have any. Now, he poured himself a cup, hoping the caffeine would help his headache. The café solo, or black coffee, hit the spot. After drinking half a cup, he called for Mary.
"Mary, my brother is six hours late from Madrid. He planned to take the train here. I'm worried something might have happened to him. I'd like to call the police, the guardia civil."
Mary shook her head, concerned.
"Oh, Señor Duncan, there is no train to Manchiego. He could take a bus from Madrid, or a train to Illescas and then a bus here. No matter, he should have arrived some time ago. He hasn't telephoned you?"
"No, I've not heard from him since yesterday. But, I know his flight arrived on time."
"I will dial the gendarmerie for you now," Mary said, hurrying towards the phone mounted on a kitchen wall.
The cord was long, but Duncan still moved close enough for there to be plenty of slack in the coiled wire.
Mary added, "Shall I speak for you, Señor Duncan? They may not understand English."
"Yes, please Mary, if there's no one there who speaks English."
"Hay un oficial allí que habla Inglés? Sí, sí," Mary said, handing the receiver to Duncan.
He explained the situation in as simple terms as possible to the police official. The man had a heavy accent and Duncan was unsure of his grasp of the Queen's English. The officer explained that his brother had not been missing long enough to worry, and for that matter might not even have been on the flight to Madrid. As a favor, the policeman took a description of Angus and said he would check if any Englishman had entered a local hospital or a casa cuartel, that resembled his brother. Duncan didn't bother explaining that his brother was Scottish. The official took his number and promised to keep him informed if he discovered anything. The police would take more action tomorrow if his brother did not surface by then.
Duncan debated calling his parents. They would know if Angus got on the plane. He didn't want to worry them, so
he decided to wait a while longer. Mary busied herself at the stove and soon produced a beautiful tortilla and glass of red wine for him. His worry for Angus suppressed his appetite, and he only nibbled on the omelette-like dish made with eggs, potatoes, ham, and red peppers, washing it down with the wine.
He could no longer concentrate on his work, so Duncan showed Mary the internet videos of crane accidents he'd watched earlier. They saw cranes teeter into construction pits, cranes tipping over and crashing through overpasses, and cranes crushing automobiles as they listed too far this way or that. Each example was shocking. Some of the films were put to upbeat techno-pop music, but the devastation kept the movies from being entertaining.
A sudden pounding on the door, accompanied by quite a ruckus, forced Duncan from his chair. He ran to the door, flinging it open. There stood Angus, his face smudged, clothes wrinkled and dirty, hair in all directions, grinning like a cat that swallowed a bird. His frame filled the doorway, blocking the view of the commotion beyond. After locking his brother in an embrace, Duncan moved to see what was causing the racket. In the dark, he could make out a group of revelers on motorbikes. There were about five or six of them, and after Angus waved and shouted "Grazie! Grazie!" several times, they departed, taking their clamor with them.
"Whatever happened to you?" he asked once they were both inside.
"It's a long story, Duncan. Someone steered me in the wrong direction and I ended up on something called the Strawberry Train out of Atocha. Ladies in long dresses served strawberry fruit, which really isn't strawberries. The train stopped somewhere outside Madrid, and from there I had to find a bus to get me here. But, as luck would have it, I got on the wrong kind of bus, the kind that stops every five minutes all over the countryside. I finally couldn't take it anymore, I mean my backside was getting sore. I swear that bus had no shock absorbers. Anyway, at some point we stopped in a village where there was a café. I was hungry by then. I took my chances and abandoned the bus. I met those Italians there."
He gestured towards the front door and Duncan understood him to mean the people on the motorbikes.
"Why didn't you just call me? I said I'd come get you," he asked, flummoxed.
"My phone is dead."
"As luck would have it," Duncan mimicked his brother's earlier statement. He continued, "How did you know those bikers were the right sort?"
"Come on Duncan, they were riding Vespas. And, they were nice enough to see I got here ship shape. It turned into quite the adventure. I'm going to hook up with them in a couple of days and do more sightseeing," he proclaimed, plunking himself in a chair and stretching his arms behind his head.
"Well, I'm relieved you're here. I was getting ready to call Mum and Dad. I'd already called the police."
"What?" Angus said.
"Yes, Angus. You're close to eight hours overdue. I was worried about you."
Angus took a deep breath.
"Well, I'm sorry I caused you anxiety, Duncan. I guess I should have charged my phone last night. But, I'm here now!"
How Angus could forget something like charging his cellular before a trip and still run a string of successful businesses Duncan couldn't fathom. But, he wasn't going to get his knickers in a ball now. He was thankful Angus was with him and that he was in one piece. Who knows what kind of accident one could get into on a Vespa.
- 8 -
Cannon Balls & Paella
Duncan slept late for the first time since coming to Spain. The brothers took their breakfast on the terrace next to the swimming pool. Mary provided steaming bowls of café con leche and the delicious lemon muffins she served his first morning at the casa.
"This is the life, Duncan," Angus commented, sipping his coffee on a rattan chaise lounge. He continued, "It was overcast and only two degrees when I boarded the plane yesterday morning, breezy too."
"Who saw you off?"
"Harold drove me in the Vauxhall. Mentioned something about how he'd like a vacation sometime. You don't suppose he's resentful that I left him to run the garages, do you?"
"Better give him a raise when you get back, Angus. Our kid brother works hard for you."
"Aye. I suppose he'll want time off as well," Angus lamented. "So, how's the case coming?"
"Well," Duncan paused to think before continuing, "it's a strange one. Cursory glance said accident, but closer look and I think it was deliberate. It should interest you, Angus. The murder weapon was a crane and equipment failure was to blame. Ha! That rhymes."
Duncan grinned at his brother.
"You're a mechanic. Everyone thought a lever failed, causing the load to fall on the victim. Would you like to look at the equipment schematics?"
"I used to be a mechanic, Duncan, and I never worked on heavy equipment like derricks."
"All right. The point is, the lever has never failed before, in any of these cranes. I think someone dropped the stove on the lady deliberately."
"That's atrocious," Angus remarked.
"All I need to do is figure out who had the motive and I'll have it solved. My analysis says it was human error, but a deliberate human error would mean murder. Anyway, let's check out the academy later. That's where it happened. All kinds of artists come to the academy on grants to live and work. You wouldn't believe the brilliant talent they've got over there. I've only seen the work of two artists so far, but everything was impressive. You'll like the director, Frogo. We've become friends and he wants to meet you. Things are different here in Spain, Angus. People sleep in late, drink cups and cups of coffee, take a break from work between noon and four and then return to their jobs until eight. After that, they go out all night. The streets are deserted in this town most of the day, but they come alive after ten. There's something you should know about my plan to get at the truth. Angus?" Duncan looked at his brother whose head had drooped to one side of the recliner. He had fallen asleep.
He crept back to the kitchen and flipped on his computer as Mary hovered about. He might as well try to get some work done while Angus napped. His fault tree still required quite a bit of effort, and he had not spoken with the remaining artists at the academy. Come on, what do you think happened? he asked himself.
Duncan typed his theories into a file. He believed someone had a serious vendetta against Ella Peña, or she had the goods on someone and they eliminated her. The culprit had a spare key to the crane. They knew enough about the equipment to know how to drop that load. They lured Ms. Peña to the correct spot at a time when no one was about, dropped the stove, locked the crane back up and fled. So they were familiar with the workings of the academy. He realized his fault tree had done just about all it could at this point. The analysis had performed its job. The program ruled out mechanical failure. Now, the case demanded feet on the ground investigating.
He always enjoyed fieldwork. Used to employing the experts at a large insurance company to analyze photos, collect evidence, and provide data to him, he could pick and chose which important cases would lure him from his office. Most of the conundrums he and his staff faced could be explained by his fault tree analysis. Personally investigating the life insurance claim for the death of Stuart Menzies had not gone so well for him. Stuart appeared crushed by a merlon that fell from his castle. That case cost Duncan his career, which to that point had been stellar. It was not without trepidation that he now planned the next steps in this investigation.
"Hey!"
His brother's voice made Duncan jump.
Angus, seeing his reaction, placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Come back out to the pool."
Duncan glanced from his computer to Angus. His brother was already browning nicely from the Spanish sun.
"I want to get organized before the weekend. That way, we can run around and have some fun. Do some sightseeing."
"Are you going to work all day?"
"No. In fact, I thought we'd dash over to the academy for lunch around two. I can introduce you to my new friend,
Frogo, the director, and maybe we could see some of the artists. Enjoy yourself by the pool for another hour and then get cleaned up and we'll go."
Angus beamed at Duncan.
"You don't have to tell me twice to hang out in the sun by a pool!"
He watched as his brother jogged outside and leapt into the large rectangular swimming pool, pulling his knees to his chest, creating a colossal splash that soaked the surrounding terrace. Angus emerged, grinning, giving Duncan the thumbs up sign.
* * * * * *
As they entered the academy, it struck Duncan how calm everything seemed. He was used to an entrance marked by Mondo yelling and chasing some poor fellow from the scene. Today, all was quiet, almost eerie. This ambience made the building resemble a monastery more than ever.
The brothers spoke in hushed tones as they approached Frogo's office. Somehow the atmosphere made normal speaking seem inappropriate.
"Frogo, I'd like you to meet my brother, Angus. Angus, this is Frogo Valentine, the director of the Tormes Academy for the Arts."
Frogo rose and walked from behind his desk to shake Angus's hand.
"I'm so glad to meet you, Angus. I've enjoyed working with your brother these past few days."
"Yes, I've enjoyed myself too," Duncan stated as the two others exchanged a hearty handshake.
"Please have a seat," the director said while gesturing to the chairs in his office, "and tell me what you've planned for today. How do you intend to entertain your brother, Duncan?"
"I thought I'd start by having him retrieve something from Mondo's Inner Sanctum," he replied, grinning.
Mystery: The Cook's Comeuppance: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder and Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 3) Page 8