A Maze of Murders

by Roderic Jeffries

  He was something of a hidalgo. Pleasant, but kind of distant; smartly dressed; often smiling, but usually with his mouth and not his eyes.

  ‘Did he have a neat moustache?’

  She looked at him with some surprise. ‘How did you know that?’

  * * *

  He drove back to Playa de Samallera and eventually found a parking space, but much further from the letting agency’s offices than he would have wished. The walk left him sweating profusely.

  ‘Are you all right?’ said the young woman behind the counter.

  He mopped his face with a handkerchief. ‘I hope so,’ he answered breathlessly. ‘Cuerpo General de Policia. Will you give me the names of the tourists who hired Casa Escarpa in the Pellapuig urbanización in May and June.’

  ‘Sure … Why don’t you sit down while I look through the files.’

  He sat, still breathing heavily. He wondered if all his promises to diet, stop smoking, and drink less, were about to levy their price for his having repeatedly broken them; was his heart about to tear itself apart …

  ‘Here we are,’ she said, as she studied the VDU. ‘Shall I print them out for you?’

  All the bookings had been made in the UK and with one exception in the names of couples; that exception was for a booking from 25 May to 8 June, by Mrs F. Dewar.

  CHAPTER 18

  Television had introduced the outside world to the inhabitants of Llueso, but not necessarily eradicated the belief that it was an alien, dangerous place. Dolores hugged Alvarez as if he were indeed lucky to have returned home. When she finally released him, she said: ‘Jaime took me to the fishmonger in Playa Neuva early this morning so I could make you Oblades amb bolets for lunch. You like that, don’t you?’

  ‘Cooked by you, it is a slice of heaven.’ That was true. No one could prepare turbot as she could.

  ‘And I’ve bought two bottles of Gran Coronas to enjoy with it.’

  Had any man ever enjoyed so rich a homecoming?

  * * *

  In the conventional sense, Son Preda was not a beautiful house, but for him, especially seen in the early evening sunshine, it possessed an attraction no palace could because it had so obviously been built to serve the land, not impress people.

  The elder maid opened the front door and showed him into the room with the flintlock rifles on the walls. Within the minute, Clough entered. ‘Good evening.’

  ‘I am sorry to trouble you again, señor, but I have one or two more questions to ask.’

  ‘Without questions, a detective would be like a car with no petrol … I’m glad you’ve called because I want to say that when I spoke to you over the phone the other day I’m sure I sounded very discourteous. The fact is, my wife was upset by your visit and that made me unsettled; always does. I’m sure you’ll understand.’

  ‘But of course, señor.’

  ‘Good. Then before we come to the “one or two questions”, let me get you a drink. What would you like?’

  ‘A coñac with just ice, if I may.’

  ‘Grab a seat while I go and get it.’

  Once seated, Alvarez let his mind wander. The gods had showered their gifts; he was the owner of Son Preda. He would call back the older men who had lost faith in themselves because they had been made redundant either by rising costs or mechanization and he would restore that faith by employing them on the estate. They would harvest the almonds, algarrobos, and olives with long bamboos, their wrists and forearms once more picking up the rhythm of the work …

  The door opened and a woman entered the room in a rush, came to a sudden halt. ‘I thought Larry was here.’

  He always had difficulty in judging a woman’s age, but was reasonably certain she was in her middle twenties. Reasonably attractive, was his immediate assessment, but only in a very un-Spanish manner – she lacked any sense of groomed, smooth sophistication. Her bouncy golden hair, deep blue eyes, freckled face, pert nose, and generous mouth provided the gamin appearance that seemed so popular in more northerly and less critical climes. He said: ‘Señor Clough left a moment ago. I am sure he will be returning very soon.’

  ‘Then I’ll wait. By the way, I’m Phoebe Owen.’

  ‘My name is Enrique Alvarez, señorita.’

  ‘Isn’t Enrique the Spanish for Henry?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  Clough entered, two glasses on a silver salver. ‘Hullo, Phoebe. Not roasting yourself?’

  ‘I decided I’d better come out of the sun for a while.’

  ‘Signs of common sense?’

  ‘Signs, but no certainty.’

  He smiled. ‘I see you’ve met the inspector.’

  ‘He didn’t say he was an inspector. Of police?’

  Clough put one glass down on the occasional table by Alvarez’s side. ‘Of the Cuerpo General de Policia, if I remember correctly … I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to suggest you wander, Phe. The inspector’s here on business.’

  ‘He’s going to arrest you?’

  ‘I hope not; not with the golf tournament fast approaching and a thousand peseta bet on myself … If you see Vera, tell her that if she’d like a drink, I’ve put three or four bottles of champagne in the fridge.’

  ‘Will do.’ She left.

  Clough sat. ‘She’s a distant cousin, but I can never remember how many times removed. Over here for sun and solace. When one yearns to be young again, one forgets that that would mean suffering endless emotional upsets once more … Now, how can I help you?’

  ‘Do you know Señora Fenella Dewar?’

  He drank, held the glass in his hand and stared down at it for several seconds, then looked up at Alvarez. ‘My sister-in-law. Now tell me, why should you be the slightest bit interested in whether or not we know each other?’

  ‘I have been making inquiries and learned that the señora rented Casa Escarpa in the Pellapuig urbanizacíon which is near Playa de Samallera, south of Barcelona.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I understand your wife stayed with Señora Dewar at Casa Escarpa.’

  ‘Indeed. And had a pleasant few days, despite their being sisters.’

  ‘They are not as companionable as one might hope?’

  ‘Sibling rivalries are far more common than idealists would have us believe. Unfortunately, my sister-in-law is of a very jealous nature.’

  ‘Did you visit Casa Escarpa?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘At a time when your wife was not there?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Does your wife know about your visit?’

  Clough smiled. ‘Professional experience forces you to suspect the worst? In this case, without justification. Business problems had been dragging on and I decided on a direct approach to the people concerned and flew out to Würzburg. It was a hard slog, but I got most of what I wanted. I went from Frankfurt to Barcelona and hired a car to drive down to Pellapuig, expecting to find my wife at the house. Instead, I learned she’d cancelled her flight from England. Naturally worried, I phoned to find out what was wrong and she told me she’d suffered a nasty bout of migraine and simply wasn’t up to travelling yet. I told her I’d get back as soon as I could find a flight, but she insisted I stay for a few days because she reckoned I needed the break, even if short. In the event, I had to leave before she arrived.’

  ‘I spoke to Susana and she…’

  ‘Who’s Susana?’

  ‘The maid who worked in the house.’

  ‘D’you know, this is the first time I’ve learned her name! I tried to communicate with her, but with conspicuous and often amusing lack of success.’

  ‘She suggested to me that Señora Dewar and you shared the same bed.’

  Clough laughed.

  ‘It is not true?’

  ‘I’d have to think very hard to suggest something less likely.’

  ‘She told me that each morning your bed was so little disturbed you could not have slept in it all night, whereas the señora’s bed was in a state of
considerable disturbance.’

  ‘I am a peaceful sleeper; obviously, Fenella is a very restless one.’

  ‘I suggested this to Susana. She said that the señora’s bed was very much less disturbed after you’d left.’

  ‘She sounds to me like a frustrated woman eager to read all sorts of things into a creased sheet. Is she married?’

  ‘She is a widow.’

  ‘There’s the explanation. But maybe it’ll be best if you have a word with my wife; she can confirm the impossibility of my having an affair with Fenella.’

  ‘For the moment, there is no need to disturb her.’

  ‘She’ll be amused, not disturbed. In any case, sooner or later you’re going to demand to talk to her, so why not now?’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘You’ll want to know why she’s been lying as well as I.’

  Alvarez hoped he didn’t look as surprised as he felt. The next question showed he had.

  ‘You went to Pellapuig because you learned that Neil had been there. Isn’t that so?’

  ‘In a way.’

  ‘Surely, in every way?… I’ll find Vera.’ He left.

  Alvarez drained his glass. His ace had been well and truly trumped.

  Clough returned with Vera. She greeted Alvarez briefly, sat on one of the armchairs, said: ‘Larry, can I have a drink?’

  ‘I told Phe to offer you champagne, but obviously she didn’t find you. I’ll do the honours and at the same time recharge our glasses.’ He picked up Alvarez’s glass and his own, left the room again.

  She nervously faced Alvarez. ‘Larry says you seem to believe it possible that my sister and he were having an affair?’

  ‘Señora, perhaps you would prefer to wait until your husband returns before we discuss the matter?’

  ‘No, I would not.’

  He was surprised by the sudden firmness with which she spoke.

  ‘You have to understand how ridiculous the suggestion is and I’ll find it a little easier to explain if he’s not here. When we were young, my sister was always belle of the ball. Do you understand that?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Because of her looks and vivacity, the handsome men always made a beeline for her at parties. She married Tancred and her life was what she’d always demanded, big house, big parties, endless trips abroad. But after a few years, he disappeared with another woman and it turned out that his wealth was largely illusory. My sister wasn’t left penniless, but compared to how things had been, she was not well off. A little later, my husband, whom she’d always considered very dull, died and left me a fortune. I’m afraid that that made her very jealous. So when I married Larry, who was so successful, her feelings reached the stage where she said things that were really unforgivable. But she is my sister so I tried to stay friendly and for my sake Larry never told her what he thought of her behaviour; thankfully, over the last couple of years she’s almost learned to come to terms with the way things are and we’ve grown closer together. But although Larry has been wonderful in hiding his true feelings, he’s never forgotten or forgiven. So you see, she really is the very last person in the world with whom he’d have an affair.’

  ‘Thank you for telling me, señora.’

  Clough returned. He filled a flute with champagne, handed this to his wife, then a glass to Alvarez. He sat.

  ‘I’ve explained how things are with Fenella,’ she said.

  Clough faced Alvarez. ‘Then you’re satisfied I stayed firmly in my own bed and the maid has rather too energetic an imagination?’

  ‘Yes, señor.’

  ‘So you’re left with the question, why did we lie about Neil?… Will everything we say now be in confidence?’

  ‘Unless that should become necessary, it will not be repeated.’

  ‘Fair enough … Before Tancred married Fenella, he’d fathered a child. The mother was from a wealthy county family who were sufficiently reactionary not to be in favour of one-parent families and as soon as the baby was born, he was adopted. As you’ll have guessed, the adopting parents’ name was Lewis.

  ‘We don’t know anything about life at home, but obviously something, somewhere was wrong. Neil started mixing with the wrong crowd and ended up in trouble. He claimed his conviction so shocked him…’

  Vera cut in. ‘Why are you so grudging?’

  ‘Because I look at things far more realistically than you do, my sweet. Still, whichever way you look at them, he decided to trace his true parents – a task that now is, I believe, easier than it used to be. He managed to identify both his father and mother. She flatly denied he was her child and refused to have anything to do with him. No one knew where his father was, but through the marriage he traced Fenella. By lucky chance – from his point of view – he arrived at her house on a day when my wife was there. Neil – arrogant and blaming everyone but himself for his problems – immediately put Fenella’s back up, but my wife…’

  She interrupted him a second time. ‘He was gritty, but it was obvious that he’d had a rough life and one had to feel sorry for him.’

  ‘You’d summon up sympathy for Jack the Ripper.’

  ‘That’s stupid … I felt certain that a little help might save him, so I offered him some money.’

  ‘Having been warned by Fenella not to.’

  ‘It can’t be wrong to try and help someone.’

  ‘Sadly, a recipe for disaster.’ He spoke to Alvarez once more. ‘Events were predictable. In May, he turned up again with a further hard-luck story and a plea for more money. My wife had recovered and was just about to fly out to Barcelona, so she told him to get in touch when she returned and she’d talk to me and see what best to do.

  ‘Neil could be certain what my advice would be so he decided to try and circumvent my objections. He turned up in Pellapuig, unfortunately after I’d left, pleading that if he wasn’t helped financially, he’d be forced to return to crime. Fenella told him that that was his problem; my wife gave him more money. Naturally, Fenella went on and on telling my wife how silly she’d been; probably becoming so heated because she reckoned she should have had first grab and had her holiday for free.’

  ‘Which just shows how wrong you are when you’re so quick to think the worst of people,’ Vera said. ‘Her holiday didn’t cost her anything.’

  ‘Because you paid for it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I should have guessed. Your generosity is only exceeded by your vulnerability.’

  ‘You know how I hate it when you say things like that.’

  ‘When I see you being taken for a ride because of your good nature … Enough of the family bickering, which is almost as boring for third parties as family jokes … The next time Neil surfaced was when he arrived here one morning. Lacking imagination, his story hadn’t changed – bad luck had robbed him, he was once more penniless and desperately trying to escape the clutches of crime, give him some money and he’d find a job and become a decent citizen.’

  ‘Why did you believe him this time?’

  ‘I haven’t said I did.’

  ‘Surely the story about giving your wife’s dressmaker the million pesetas was a lie?’

  ‘Of course. But I’d never expected to be challenged on that point and had to think up an explanation on the spot. No, I didn’t believe him any more than I had previously.’

  ‘Then why give him the money?’

  For the first time, Clough showed some hesitation. ‘The gods call on us to know ourselves. It’s easy for them since, being gods, whatever they find in themselves must be virtuous. It’s different for us mortals. Knowing ourselves can make us … A rambling way of trying to avoid the humiliating admission that I place far more value on social standing than is reasonable. In mitigation, I can only plead that when I was young, there was never enough money in the house. Poverty – even when relative – leaves a lasting mark. But since most things are double-sided, it can also breed a fierce determination to succeed. It’s boasting, but I�
��ve succeeded in life.

  ‘Arriving on this island, it didn’t take long to understand that although the expatriate community doesn’t have many social levels, it is very far from a classless society. I gather that some years ago, the traditional birth and breeding were the entrée into the top rank, but, as in most other places, standards have declined and money has become the prime requisite. Live in a large house, drive an expensive car, preferably of German manufacture, and one is virtually received anywhere, however boorish one’s character. We were received without question – though I hope not despite a tendency to boorishness.

  ‘When a society measures social values by perceived wealth, its members are never at ease because money, unlike breeding, has no inbuilt permanency; in the old days, the aristocrat could shrug off any number of scandals; the modern parvenu – unless in the entertainment world – dreads even the whiff of one. I was convinced that if people learned that our nephew – which, of course, Neil was not, but gossip prefers fiction to fact – was a convicted criminal, they would tend to ostracize us, at the same time rejoicing in the fact that they did not have criminal nephews. To avoid this, I gave Neil the money on condition he moved out of our lives.’

  ‘But you have said that each time he made a promise, you disbelieved him.’

  ‘Because my judgement was not clouded by personal considerations. When it was, I denied all logic and somehow found it possible to hope.’

  ‘Did you see Señor Lewis again after you gave him the money?’

  ‘No. I hoped he’d left the island right up to the time you told us he was missing.’

  ‘That was, perhaps, not unwelcome news?’

  Clough smiled bitterly. ‘A barbed question! Do I accept your assessment and incur your even sharper regard, or deny it and risk being branded a hypocrite?’

  Alvarez was silent for a moment, then said: ‘Thank you for being so frank.’ He stood.

  ‘I hope you can now appreciate why we both lied to you?’

  Vera said: ‘The fact is, Inspector, you never did believe me, did you?’