The Little Spanish Girl

by Ales Matko

  ''Pilar. Pilar Fernandes. And to answer your question, on that particular evening I came to dinner with Beatrice and left with everyone else, when the maid came and told us Ana-Maria had vanished.''

  ''And did you notice anything else unusual around that time?''

  ''No, I don’t think so. Except ... Well, but this is hardly unusual, detective ...''

  Pilar looked away for a moment, as if she were unsure whether to continue.

  ''I mean, Beatrice,'' she said at length. ''She must have gone to the bathroom about half a dozen times that evening.''

  ''After the girl had already left the table?'' Beatra asked. ''We were told she wasn’t feeling well and went to bed early.''

  ''That's correct. Ana-Maria said she felt ill and had a stomach ache. That's when the old maid took her to bed.''

  ''Ignes, yes. And Beatrice visited the bathroom a number of times after that, you say?''

  ''Yes, inspector.''

  Beatra nodded to Klauder, and the detective proceeded with his questioning.

  ''Interesante. Well, I will also have to ask you about yesterday, ladies. Where were you from late in the afternoon till dinner?''

  ''I was alone,'' Pilar said, seizing the initiative and speaking first.

  ''Alone,'' Beatra repeated. ''And where was it that you were alone, señora, if we may inquire?''

  The pinkish hue of her dainty cheeks turned slightly more red.

  ''What are you talking about, Pilar?'' Antonia interjected, raising her eyebrows. ''We were together. Don’t you remember, dear? Gossiping about the estrada? Julia Lisconta and her new husband? The three-legged dog? The Samoan prince? Fifteen days in paradise?''

  These were apparently the trending topics from the world of movies, music and glamor.

  Pilar smiled. ''No, we ... wait. Are we talking about yesterday? No, yesterday we were together, Antonia and I. But on the night Ana-Maria disappeared, I'm afraid I honestly can't say where I was in the hours leading up to dinner. I'm so sorry, detective. I thought you were still asking about Friday. I'm so awfully scatter-brained lately.''

  Klauder smiled.

  ''That’s okay, an honest mistake. Listen, I know I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, señora,'' he said, turning to Antonia. ''But have you perhaps noticed anything unusual since your arrival?''

  ''You mean apart from all the craziness surrounding Ana-Maria? No, nothing worth mentioning.''

  ''But you know the girl well?''

  ''To tell you the truth, I haven’t seen her for ages. The last time I visited was about three years ago, and back then she was just a baby.''

  ''I see. And you, señora Pilar? What is your relationship with her?''

  ''Well, I quite like her. She's a very pleasant little girl, and quite well-mannered. I honestly don’t know why anyone would want to harm such an innocent thing.''

  As she spoke, Klauder became absorbed in thought. He went silent and remained motionless for so long that it seemed as if he had fallen asleep with his eyes open.

  ''Is it true what you said earlier?'' Pilar cautiously asked, unsure what to make of this odd behavior. ''About that message written in blood?''

  Klauder was apparently still lost in thought, so Beatra answered for him.

  ''Indeed.''

  ''What did it say again?''

  ''It was something sinister, something demonic, señora. I don’t wish to go into detail.''

  Antonia trembled. ''Who could do something so horrible?''

  Beatra was beginning to worry that his companion had suffered a stroke when Klauder finally came back to reality.

  ''I'm sorry,'' he said. ''My thoughts sometimes take me away.'' He thanked the ladies for their time and cooperation, then he and Beatra left, the latter smirking slightly as the door closed behind them.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ''So Beatrice went to the bathroom a lot that night and only after Ana-Maria had already left the table. That’s mighty suspicious, if you ask me, detective.''

  ''Maybe. But then again,'' replied Klauder, ''she does drink a lot. What goes in, has to come out. Ah,'' he sighed, ''it's terrible though, what happened to her second baby ...''

  ''You can say that again.''

  Next on their list was the old woman, Elsa's mother. But they could not find her in her quarters and were told by one of the maids whom they had not previously met that Constanza had gone outside to the greenhouse, where she apparently spent most of her time.

  They put on their warm winter coats and headed out into the snow.

  ''When we get back, I have to get a hold of some food. My stomach is already threatening mutiny,'' Klauder said, and began whistling a lively tune.

  He was something else all right. According to the papers he was a modern Sherlock Holmes, but he was known almost as much for his eccentricities as for his investigative prowess. In an interview, for instance, he had casually revealed that his two greatest fears in life were not being able to solve a problem he was working on, and holding kittens. He never elaborated on the reasons for the latter, and Beatra, for whom discretion was always the better part of valor, thought better of asking him about it.

  Soon the investigators found themselves ankle-deep in snow, heading in the direction the guards had pointed them in. The weather was slightly better than it had been the day before, but though some of the fog had lifted, the snow continued to fall from the grey sky onto the ever-thickening white layer spread across the land.

  All of a sudden Klauder stopped whistling. ''She's hiding something,'' he said.

  ''Pilar? You think so, detective?''

  ''Absolutely. Come to think of it, everyone we've met up until now has either been dishonest in some way or pretended to be something they're not.''

  ''What gives you that idea? They all seemed genuine and cooperative enough to me. Apart, of course, from señor Elsa, who we managed to piss off quite spectacularly. And maybe Beatrice.''

  ''Ah, you have to be wary of the little things, inspector. A gesture, a word, a smile – or perhaps the lack of one. Everyone is hiding something, and I mean everyone. The only question is whether it's something relevant.''

  ''If it's irrelevant, why cover it up?''

  Klauder did not respond with words but only shot Beatra a glance, as if he did not believe the question was serious.

  ''Well,'' the inspector continued, looking for a rug to sweep the awkwardness of the moment under, ''be that as it may, maybe at least Constanza will be more truthful with us. Old folks are usually quicker to talk.''

  ''That old hag?'' Klauder said, grimacing. ''She'll probably refuse to talk to us altogether!''

  He wasn’t far off. It took them nearly twenty minutes to reach the greenhouse. It was a large, round building covered in steamed glass, its roof collecting large amounts of snow. As they opened the glass door, hot air rushed out and a voice came from somewhere deep within the dense folliage.

  ''Close the door, goddamn it! You'll let all the heat out!''

  Klauder and Beatra entered quickly, pulling the door closed behind them and heading in the direction of the voice. They found Constanza standing in an area overgrown with exotic vegetation. She was dressed in a distasteful mantle made of jaguar skin that made her look like some bizarre jungle creature, and her mood seemed to match her outfit.

  ''What a nice place you have here,'' Beatra said with all the sincerity of Charles Ponzi at an investor symposium. ''Funny I've never set foot in here before, despite my numerous visits.''

  ''What do you want?'' Constanza barked.

  ''Nice to see you as well, señora,'' Klauder bristled. ''We won’t bother you for long as you are clearly busy. Just a question or two, if we could.''

  ''I have nothing to tell you!'' she snapped.

  ''I don't doubt that for a moment, señora. Still, Ana-Maria is missing, and surely you'll agree we must leave no stone unturned in locating her. Were you by any chance present at the table the night of her disappearance?''

  Constanza swung the
small wattering can she was holding, lightly splattering Beatra’s head and beard.

  ''Well where else would I have been? I eat at the table like any civilized person, detective!'' she hissed, turning her back on her unwelcome guests and walking deeper into the hot and humid miniature jungle that was making Klauder sweat profusely. The investigators followed her, watching as she watered some plants and pruned others, all the while mumbling something to herself. Beatra wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

  ''And did you notice anything suspicious on Friday evening?''

  ''No.''

  ''Are you sure?''

  ''Yes.''

  ''Do you have any idea who could have kidnapped her?''

  ''No!''

  ''What about yesterday afternoon? Where were you then?''

  Constanza said nothing, continuing her work with increased vigor.

  Klauder sighed. ''Señora, I understand that we're not here by invitation, but it would really go a long way if you could help us a little. I mean, don’t you want your granddaughter to be found?''

  ''My granddaughter? Ah yes, I can see that Gustav hasn't been particularly forthcoming with you gentlemen. There is no blood relation between me and the little girl, nor is there one between her and my son.''

  Beatra and Klauder looked at each other.

  ''Come again?''

  ''Gustav may very well consider her his own, but the child is not his. And so you will understand why I am not exactly all hot and bothered about her disappearance and those bloody inscriptions on the wall. Frankly I couldn't give less of a damn about any of it. And if you'll pardon me for saying so, I don’t give a rat’s ass about that little boy either!''

  As she spoke she cut off a large branch covered in fragrant yellow buds that scattered when they hit the floor. She was apparently fully informed about what had happened to the boy, Benjamine.

  Klauder pulled himself together as best he could.

  ''Well, that's certainly ...'' He was looking at the old lady in disbelief, deciding what to do with this unexpected piece of information.

  Constanza stopped. She drew a deep breath and looked back and forth hesitantly between the two men.

  ''Look,'' she growled. ''If I were you, I would just pack up and leave. There is nothing you can find here except an early grave. If you ask me the girl was probably just kidnapped by one of the guards, those fucking animals! Or by Jago, that disgusting little dwarf! He's always fawning around children. And the maids have a lot on their conscience too, I bet. Oh, they all smile and act polite around me, but I see though their charades! In any case, as I was saying, you two should leave and forget about all this. The boy was found dead and pretty soon Ana-Maria will probably turn up in a similar condition. And that’s probably for the best!''

  Klauder paused and looked the old woman in the eyes. ''Señora, if you don’t mind my asking, how can you be so callous? Don’t you feel any sympathy at all for those around you and their suffering?''

  ''No, I don’t,'' she responded curtly. ''I hate people! They are disgusting and terrible! That's why I spend most of my time here, where there are no annoying visitors, only plants. They are truly man’s best friend! Plants are not capable of the obnoxious actions that humans are! They don't shit, they don't do stupid things, they don't argue or plot. They can't kill you or stab you in the back.''

  ''Unless they're poisonous,'' Beatra observed.

  Constanza twisted her shrivelled face into something resembling a smile.

  ''Yes,'' she nodded in satisfaction, slowly. ''But that's just their defense mechanism, and a wonderful one, at that. They won’t harm you if you don't cross them. A lot of the fauna in here is poisonous, as far as that goes. Toxic species are my bread and butter.''

  The now famished Klauder, who had been on the verge of surreptitiously picking one of the meaty purple fruits growing on a nearby tree, quietly lowered his arm.

  ''Why on earth would you grow poisonous plants?'' he asked, annoyed at having to deny himself a tasty-looking snack.

  ''They are usually the prettiest ones,'' she replied, gesturing toward the back where there was a giant climbing plant with gorgeous lilla blossoms just now blooming. ''But every now and then they can also serve a purpose. To make poison for rats, for instance. Or for something bigger.''

  She returned Klauder's icy stare for a moment before refusing to answer any further questions.

  The investigators thanked her with what little politeness they could muster and headed back towards the exit, jostling the plants as they walked. They felt a shock as the intense heat of the greenhouse suddenly shifted back to the inhospitable climate outside, but even the frozen tundra seemed warmer than the reception they had just received.

  ''Did you hear her, detective? She literally hopes Ana-Maria will turn up dead! ¡Esa vieja bruja amarga!''

  ''Maybe she is doing a little bit more than just hoping,'' Klauder opined. ''But it is certainly more than a little interesting that the girl is not really Gustav’s, is it not? Her remarks about the staff were also rather enlightening, especially the one in regards to the butler. We will certainly look into that one. Constanza also didn't forget to badmouth the guards – or animals, as she called them.''

  ''Well, we hardly needed her to help us form an opinion about them, did we? One look is more than sufficient.''

  ''Yes, they are indeed a misanthropic bunch. Yet señor Elsa said that the shank town had been searched thoroughly and nothing alarming had been found.''

  They fell silent for a while, then Beatra finally said out loud what he must have been thinking for some time.

  ''I don’t want to be insensitive, but reallisticaly speaking, what do you think the chances of Ana-Maria still being alive are? I mean, you saw what happened to the boy. Are we not, at this point, at least acknowledging the possibility that someone has already, to put it delicately, disposed of her?''

  ''As horrendous as that prospect is, yes, the thought had crossed my mind. But still, it would ...''

  Klauder was interrupted mid-sentence by a loud bang somewhere in the distance. He and Bearta froze in their tracks.

  ''What in God's name was that?'' Beatra said, trying to determine the direction the sound had come from.

  ''It sounded like a gunshot.''

  ''Gunshot? To me it sounded more like an explosion!''

  CHAPTER TEN

  Guards were rushing out of the giant mansion in waves. As the investigators cautiously approached and inquired as to what was going on, one of the servants present at the scene told them that something must have happened down at the factory.

  Some of the guards headed off on foot while others climbed into all-terrain vehicles and whirred off down the road leading away from the mansion.

  As the sounds of car engines, boots and shouting faded from the courtyard, bursts of gunfire could be heard from off in the snowy distance. This did not last long, however, and soon there was a deep silence.

  ''Whatever that was,'' Klauder mumbled through the lump in his throat, ''I don’t think it's safe to go check it out, not right now anyway. Mind if we step back inside, inspector?''

  ''Fine by me,'' Beatra replied, reflexively grabbing at his belt where he was used to having one of his two trusty handguns, the other being tucked away in an ankle holster, which was currently also empty.

  Just as they were entering the mansion, Gustav Elsa rushed by them, accompanied by his long-haired lackey. The investigators did not even recognize them at first, however, as they were both dressed from head to toe in orange hazmat suits with airtight helmets, similar to scafanders. Elsa harshly instructed Klauder and Beatra to get inside and stay put, and then rushed off.

  ''I have a bad feeling about this,'' the detective said.

  ''You and me both. What's with those outfits?''

  Inside, everyone seemed on edge, and as the two could not get a definitive answer as to what exactly had happened, the only thing left to do was to return to the investigation, their profound unease and gloomy
premonitions notwithstanding.

  They were not able to track down the butler, but this was not all that odd given all the commotion. Elizabeth, Elsa’s sister, was also not in, or at least did not respond to their knocking on the locked door of her apartment.

  ''Maybe third time's the charm,'' Beatra said. ''We'll come back in a little while. It’s not as if she or Jago are going anywhere anytime soon. Elsa has ordered a lockdown of the perimeter.''

  ''Again, such a climb for nothing, goddammit!'' Klauder muttered angrily, catching his breath as they were heading back down the stairs from the fifth storey.

  ''Constanza somehow managed to slander pretty much all of the help, detective. If I'm not mistaken, she said that they talk behind her back and scheme. Maybe there's something more to this than just the paranoia of a sociopathic old woman. I suggest we interrogate some of the other staff while we wait for Elsa to return and explain what's going on around here.''

  Painfully aware that he still hadn't eaten, Klauder suggested they interview the kitchen staff first, but to his growing consternation it was discovered that the kitchen was open only for breakfast and dinner.

  ''No lunch?'' the crestfallen detective whined. ''¡Un hombre tiene que comer!''

  In the end he was forced to settle for a loaf of whole grain bread and some dates he found in one of the cupboards. ''The brain requires a constant flow of nutrients!'' he lamented. ''How am I to think with no food?''

  He was beginning to lose his composure, and only when the entire loaf of bread and all the dried fruit were gone did his frustration dissipate to the point that his mental functioning resumed.

  One shot of insulin later they managed to track down one of the maids who normally worked in the kitchen. Talking to her revealed nothing of interest, and though she seemed on edge, this was hardly suspicious under the circumstances. The one useful thing she did tell them was where they could find the chef, and it was not long before they were knocking on the door to his apartment. To their surprise, however, it was not the chef who answered, but rather one of the maids, who opened the door, gave them an awkward smile, and rushed past them without saying a word, as if she had just remembered an urgent appointment across town. It was the same maid who had brought Ana-Maria the hot water bottle on the night she disappeared.