A Maze of Murders (12 page)

‘It has not occurred to you that a drunken man tends to fall about?'

‘All the evidence suggests he wasn't drunk.'

‘Evidence provided by equally sottish companions.'

‘I'm sure Señorita Glass wasn't tight. She has a rather delicate stomach and if she drinks very much, she suffers…'

‘How is it that when you are asked to explain your total disregard of orders, you start talking about some woman's digestive problems?'

‘I was trying to explain why I'm certain Lewis wasn't drunk.'

‘If he was sober when he fell, he'd have swum back and pulled himself aboard; if for some reason he couldn't do that, he would have called for help.'

‘He didn't fall overboard, señor.'

‘Have you taken complete leave of your senses? Haven't you been trying to tell me that the bruises on his back were caused when he fell overboard?'

‘When he fell against the rails. He was dragged out of the saloon and thrown over the stern. But it's very difficult to manage an unconscious body and as he was heaved over, his body jackknifed and his back hit the rails with considerable force.'

‘You are now suggesting that one of the others on the boat, who according to you only a moment ago were all unconscious, threw him over the side?'

‘The murderer swam out from the shore or, more likely, another boat…'

‘Why content yourself with but one aquatic homicidal maniac? Why not take the chance to compound confusion by suggesting two, three, four?… You should not be surprised to learn I consider that this conversation has confirmed the proposition that you are not fit to hold the position you do. It is therefore my intention…'

‘Señor.'

‘Don't interrupt.'

‘Have you spoken to the Institute of Forensic Anatomy?'

‘How else did I learn that you had flatly disobeyed my orders; that when informed there was every reason to suppose the drowning was accidental, your immediate reaction was to ask for full and very costly analyses to be made of specimens from the dead man?'

‘But they didn't give you the results?'

‘Hardly necessary.'

‘They phoned me just before you did. Lewis had been drugged with modified chloral hydrate, which explains why he didn't cry out or swim.'

There was a long pause. ‘What is chloral hydrate?'

‘We know it as a Mickey Finn. Apparently it used to be so foul-tasting it was difficult to disguise even in a strong drink, but a chemist in America has managed to make it much less obnoxious so that now it's all too easy to use successfully. It has only one unpredictable disadvantage…'

‘There can be no doubt?'

‘None, señor.' Alvarez thought that a little joke might lessen the superior chief's resentment. ‘I reckon we ought to christen the new dope, Mickey Swede.'

Salas cut the connection.

Alvarez poured himself a larger drink than he would have done had the superior chief not phoned.

CHAPTER 14

The fax from England arrived on Friday morning; it proved to be a fuller report than Alvarez had expected.

Lawrence Charles Clough had no criminal record and his name was not on the ‘yellow list'. (There was no explanation of this term, but it was obvious that it referred to the information all detective forces collected and kept on file – the names of men and women suspected of crimes for which there was insufficient evidence to bring any charges.) He had been engaged in property development and had run into trouble with investments which had become of doubtful value due to the general economic malaise. The banks from whom he'd borrowed capital, watching the fall in property prices, had demanded either repayment or further security. He had sought and found the latter by marrying Vera Reece, a very wealthy woman; she had allowed a part of her fortune to be used as security against his debts. At a later date, he had identified some land which was for sale and which he believed could restore his fortunes. She had agreed with the bankers to increase the amount of her capital being used as security, but only days later had cancelled this agreement; then, the following week, she had renewed her pledge. The reason for this was not known, but it did seem reasonable to assume that she had suspected her husband of being unfaithful (he was known not to take his marriage vows seriously), but he had somehow convinced her that she was wrong. Earlier this year, he had managed to gain planning permission for the land in question and with the proceeds gained from selling it, he had been able to liquidate his debts. Not long after this, he and his wife had left England to live abroad.

Little was known about Neil Andrew Lewis, prior to his conviction for robbery at the age of nineteen. At the age of twenty-three, he had been convicted along with two other men of robbery with violence and had served four and a half years before being released from prison towards the end of the previous year.

Neither man had any known connection with the drug trade.

Alvarez put the fax down on his desk. If not drugs, what? Blackmail?

*   *   *

He rounded a bend to come in sight of Son Preda. Envy might be one of the deadly sins, but how was one to avoid it when looking at such an estate? Were he to win El Gordo, or the primitiva when the bote had risen to eight hundred million, he'd buy such a place and lavish his newly-won money on the land. The olive trees would be pruned and harvested; the olive press would be restored and the olives, packed in layers and squeezed by the huge wooden press driven by a mule, would give up their golden-green virgin oil. The water wheels would be restored so that their leather buckets dipped down to scoop up water, then rose to discharge it into channels that led to the estanques. There would be no diesel-stinking tractors, compacting the earth, no combines designed for prairie vastness, dodging around almond and fig trees and breaking their branches; only mules and horses, single furrow Roman ploughs, reapers and binders, and the corn would be winnowed by the wind as it had been until only a few years ago …

He sighed. There was no fool more senseless than the one who looked to the past instead of the future.

He braked to a halt in front of the house, climbed out of the car, crossed to the stone steps and climbed these, swung the heavy wrought-iron knocker to cause the deep, thudding sound that came from the past he so espoused.

The door was opened by a young woman in maid's uniform whom he'd not previously met. ‘Is the señor in?' he asked.

Her manner was direct, rather than diplomatic. ‘Why d'you want to know?'

‘Inspector Alvarez, Cuerpo General de Policia.'

She looked at him with some interest, but remained unimpressed. ‘He's been out since just after breakfast.'

‘Then is the señora in?'

‘As far as I know.'

‘I'd like a word with her.'

‘Then you'd best come in.'

She led him into the same room as before. After she'd gone, he studied the flintlock rifles. Who was most at risk when one of these was fired – the man in front or the man behind?

He heard the door open and turned. As Vera Clough entered, he said: ‘Good morning, señora. I hope I am not unduly disturbing you.'

‘I'm afraid my husband's out.'

‘So the maid told me.' Once again, he was vaguely surprised by her appearance – the rich usually, subtly or unsubtly, flaunted their wealth, but she made no effort to do so. ‘I need to speak to you as well as to your husband.'

‘I…' She hesitated, then spoke in a rush. ‘I think he ought to be here.'

‘Naturally I will wait if you wish. But I've only come to give you some serious news and ask you to confirm what you have previously told me.'

‘What serious news?'

‘You will remember that when last here I asked if you or your husband knew Señor Lewis who had disappeared from a boat and had to be presumed drowned. Very sadly, that presumption has been confirmed. Further, we can now be certain that his death was not an accident and he was murdered.'

‘Oh, my God!' She gesticulated with her hands. ‘It's impossible.'

‘Why is that?'

‘Because…' She took a couple of paces to her right, slumped down in a chair.

He patiently waited.

‘My husband told you how this sort of thing affects me,' she said in a low voice, staring at the floor.

‘Indeed, señora, which is why I so regret having had to tell you.' Her reaction to the news had been far stronger than he would have expected, even allowing for her emotional identification with others' miseries. ‘I will be as brief as possible.' And also as quick as possible, hoping that that would prevent her remembering to demand that her husband be present. ‘Are you positive you have never met Señor Lewis?'

‘Of course I am.'

‘And he's never been in contact with you either by phone or letter?'

‘No.'

‘So he has not attempted to blackmail you or your husband?' He noticed that she suddenly clasped her hands together on her lap; she had acted similarly when she'd first learned of Lewis's death. People often unknowingly betrayed an inner tension.

‘Of course he hasn't,' she said loudly.

‘If he had, it would be in your interests to admit that fact.'

‘It's a ridiculous thing to suggest.'

‘Señora, these days, when little or nothing in a person's private life is considered sufficiently immoral to be concealed at all costs, blackmail is levied almost always on someone who has committed a serious criminal act. The police, knowing that the victim's evidence will be necessary to prosecute the blackmailer successfully, treat that crime as sympathetically as is possible.'

‘He wasn't blackmailing us.'

‘I'm sorry that it's been my job to suggest such a possibility … There is one final thing. May I see the frocks, please?'

‘What frocks?' She stared at him, panicking because she could not understand the question and therefore fearing it the more.

‘The ones you had made by the lady from England who, understandably, has no wish to pay taxes.'

She tightened the grip of her hands. ‘I … You'll have to ask my husband about them.'

He stood. ‘Thank you very much for your help, señora.'

As he drove along the dirt track towards the road, he thought that luck had finally been with him. Because Clough had not been there to act as a shield, his wife had surely confirmed the motive for Lewis's murder.

Alvarez braked to a halt, checked there was no oncoming traffic, turned on to the road. Lewis had been blackmailing her, her husband, or both of them. So what had Lewis known that was so dangerous to them that it had been worthwhile paying him a million pesetas to buy his temporary silence, then to kill him to ensure this became permanent; later, to kill Sheard, who must have learned enough to be in a position to have continued the blackmail?

Was he right to judge from her reactions that she had had no reason to believe Lewis had been murdered?

*   *   *

Dolores had just served the sopes Mallorquines when the phone rang. She did not ask if the two men were deaf, but immediately moved her chair back from the table and left. Jaime watched her, a look of worry on his face.

When she returned, she said: ‘It's the post.'

‘Don't they ever relax,' Alvarez muttered with annoyance. He helped himself to another spoonful of the soup – more a stew, with cabbage, tomatoes, garlic, onions, olive oil, seasoning, and brown sopes bread – went through to the phone.

‘I've had a foreigner ringing in. Couldn't understand a word, so in the end he got his maid to talk. She said he wanted to speak to you and it wouldn't be to tell you what a nice guy you are. I told her that being a lazy bastard, you were at home, guzzling. The next thing, he's demanding your home number. I refused. When would you be back at work? Just before it was time to pack up for the day and go home, I told her … So this is just to warn you that he'll be ringing in some time and, from the sound of things, you'll need to brace yourself.'

‘Thanks for the warning.'

‘My old woman always says my good nature makes a fool of me.'

It was only after replacing the receiver that Alvarez realized the duty cabo had failed to name the caller. Still, that had been unnecessary. Clough, accepting that the best defence was attack, had made his first move.

He returned to the dining-room.

‘Is it trouble?' Dolores asked solicitously.

‘Work's always trouble,' he answered as he refilled his glass with wine.

*   *   *

The expected phone call was made at half past six.

‘Would you be kind enough to tell me exactly what is going on, Inspector?'

The degree of a Mallorquin's temper could be gauged by the range and explosiveness of his expletives, but an Englishman often offered no guide other than the increased iciness of his politeness.

‘If you are referring to my visit this morning to your home, as I explained to the señora, it has been established that Señor Lewis was murdered. It has therefore become necessary to conduct a more detailed and even more urgent investigation.'

‘That is supposed to be an explanation for accusing my wife of being a criminal?'

‘I certainly did not do that.'

‘You asked if either of us had been subjected to blackmail and then went on to say that these days it almost always follows a crime which has been committed by the person blackmailed. You would not agree that the inference is quite unmistakable?'

‘What I was trying to do was not to accuse the señora of anything, but merely to assure her that had either of you been subjected to blackmail at the hands of Lewis, it would be very much in your interests to admit that fact because authority will always offer as much sympathy as is possible … I am afraid it is sometimes very difficult to express oneself accurately in a foreign language.'