Troubled Deaths (17 page)

‘What the hell do you think? It might have been something bigger the next time.’

‘And, of course, you no longer had the chance of borrowing the money you so needed?’

‘My middle name has always been tactless.’

‘You seem to speak as if all this did not matter. But afterwards you must have been very sad it happened?’

‘Being sad didn’t alter anything, did it?’

‘No, señor. But perhaps you were sad enough to think very hard and you decided that there was one thing which could still help you?’

‘Such as what?’

‘Señorita Cannon’s death.’

‘How could her death alter the fact that I wasn’t going to get a single peseta out of her?’

‘Not out of her, no, but perhaps out of Señorita Durrel since she was named heir in the will which was in that desk over there and which you read.’

‘I’m no snooper. And d’you bloody think I’d drag Carrie into it. . .’ Anson came to his feet, fists clenched.

Alvarez spoke calmly. ‘Señor, remember that in this country it is a serious crime to hit a policeman.’

Anson slowly lowered his hands. ‘Don’t worry,’ he sneered, ‘I never hit old men.’

Alvarez very nearly stood up and hit him.

The Telex message from England was received at eleven forty-seven on Monday morning.

Reference Freeman and Cannon. Latest enquiries suggest Freeman was born Geoffrey Castle and Cannon, Mabel Striggs. Castle and Striggs worked H. G. Hoffman & Sons, Castle as firm’s accountant and Striggs in computer division. Misinformation fed into computer four years nine months ago resulted in bogus payments made of total £232,762. Striggs under suspicion when she, Castle, and Brent vanished. Castle deserted wife and two children. Enquiries failed to trace them, though believed on Continent. Charles Brent: aged 23, height 1 metre 75, dark brown hair worn long and curled, full beard and moustache, face oval, eyes light blue and regular, eyebrows arched and prominent, nose triangular, mouth small, lips full, dentures, chin weak with cleft, ears slightly bat-wing and pointed with long lobes, body thin, shoulders rounded, fingers long and thin, prints and photograph available. Please send photographs and prints Freeman and Cannon. Advise if any information Brent.

Alvarez phoned the local branch of the Caja de Ahorros y Monte de Piedad de Las Baleares and asked them to tell him the exchange rate between the pound and the Swiss franc four years nine months previously. There was a short wait before he was given the answer. He multiplied 232,000 by 6.5 and the answer was just over a million and a half. The pound had depreciated, Freeman and Mabel Cannon had bought houses . . . Their passports, both forged, bore consecutive numbers, they had arrived together, nothing was known about their past and no friends from England were known to have visited them . . . Fingerprints would confirm, but at this stage Alvarez had no doubt that their true identities were now known. He visualized the awkward, foolish Mabel Striggs, infatuated with Castle, gradually being seduced into the crime. And the younger Brent, probably cocksure, seduced not by love but by fortune . . .

Anson did not fit the description of Brent. Either Brent had murdered Freeman and Mabel Cannon (it was easier to think of them by the names they had had locally) to gain the tontine or Anson had murdered Mabel Cannon because she had left all her money to Caroline . . . How could Brent have visited Ca’n Ritat, as surely he must have done, and discovered not only the routine of the house but also that Freeman liked esclatasangs, without the Blancos learning about the visit? If Anson had murdered Mabel Cannon it must be presumed he had read the will naming Caroline sole heir once Freeman was dead, but wouldn’t he also have read, with the aid of a dictionary if necessary, the document setting out the tontine, and wouldn’t he then have realized that when Mabel was dead she was no longer rich because the third man took all . . .?

Mother of God, he thought, the ordinary brain was not made for such complications. He poured himself out a brandy.

Obviously, the most likely course of events was that Brent had murdered both victims in pursuit of the tontine. So, somehow he had been clever enough to avoid being seen by either the Blancos or Orozco. Difficult, yet certainly not impossible.

If Brent were the murderer, Anson was innocent. And yet he, Enrique Alvarez, had pursued Anson with a vindictiveness which at the time he had told himself was motivated by the desire to see justice done, but which now could be seen as motivated solely by jealousy. The pathetic jealousy of a middle-aged, soon-to-be-pot-bellied, peasant.

One thing now had to be done (it could not salve his pride - nothing could - but it would bring an end to the sorry events). He must find Brent and unmask him as the murderer. If Brent had settled in Spain, it would be possible to track him down quickly by assuming that his entry date (given when he applied for a residencia) would have been roughly the same as that of Freeman and Mabel Gannon. The fingerprints of his two index fingers would be on record and these could be compared with the prints from England. If he had settled in some other part of Europe, it should still be possible though it might take longer. Only if he had settled outside Europe . . . But as Freeman and Mabel Cannon’s passports had had consecutive numbers, wasn’t it likely that Brent’s either followed or preceded theirs, since all three would have been procured at the same time?

Tuesday was a miserable day. There was no rain, yet the clouds stretched from horizon to horizon and were a dirty, unwashed colour, becoming black over the mountains. The bay, so brilliantly blue in sunshine, was a tired green. The mountains which ringed the bay were dark, dismal grey.

Alvarez stood on the curving western arm of the harbour and stared at the yachts and motor-boats. For him, they epitomized the luxury of life he would never experience - a cynic would have said that for this he should be thankful in view of his susceptibility to seasickness.

‘That one is for sale,’ said Mena, who unheard had walked up to where he stood. ‘She will cost you only twelve million pesetas if you bargain a little and in her you can sail from end to end of the Mediterranean. Or if you long to feel the blast of ocean winds, to cross the Atlantic and the Pacific’

Alvarez turned and faced Mena, who looked thoroughly uncomfortable in a dark suite ‘If I had twelve million, I’d buy many cuarteradas of land and grow oranges, lemons, figs, almonds, algarrobas, ^xoil, barley, wheat, oats, beans, tomatoes, potatoes, cabbages, cauliflowers, peppers, aubergines . . .’ He became silent.

‘Dreams!’ said Mena. ‘They keep a man alive . . . Shall I tell you the one truth I have learned in sixty-one years?’

‘No. I’m feeling dismal already.’

‘If a man gains his dreams, his life becomes worthless.’

‘I’ll just go off and cut my throat.’

‘Wait a little . . . D’you know what the owner of that yacht does with his life?’

‘If he’s English, he chases either little boys or big girls.’

‘He is English and he drinks himself to death. So his beautiful yacht lies there, week after week, bare-poled, halyards fraying, riding nothing bigger than the harbour waves. I can feel her slowly dying from boredom because a man realized all his dreams and his life became worthless.’

‘You’ve been boozing.’

‘My niece gets married this afternoon and so she is weeping, my sister-in-law is weeping, and my wife is weeping. A man needs a sou’wester and oilskins to remain in the house. Come and have a drink with me now.’

‘You’d better not get any more plastered or Lucia will give you absolute hell.’

‘How true . . . I often give thanks to God that I did not marry my wife’s sister which I once considered . . . Though I’ve never mentioned that fact to Maria . . . Come on, Enrique, let’s drink to the poor man who is marrying into such a watery family.’

They went through the main gateway and into Mena’s office. Mena brought out of a cupboard a bottle of Carlos I brandy. ‘You’re still doing yourself all right, then,’ said Alvarez.

Mena filled two large tumblers. ‘If a man owns a beautiful yacht which never sails the seas, he should be made to pay for being such a fool.’

Alvarez sipped the brandy and wished that he owned a boatyard which had stupid, rich foreigners as customers.

‘I have something important to tell you, Enrique.’ Mena leaned back in his chair. ‘Soon, I shall have a partner and we will expand and build yachts for people who are not stupid.’

‘Is the Englishman, Anson, definitely joining you, then?’

‘He came to me this morning and said that now everything was certain and he will be lent the million and a half. It will take a little time, but it will be.’ Mena suddenly looked sharply at Alvarez. ‘Do you think it is that sure?’

‘It’s no good asking me. I don’t know anything about anything these days.’

‘I hope it is so. With him, we will build the most beautiful yachts in the world.’

‘And sail away to the Atlantic and the Pacific?’

‘Not me. Maria does not like to sail and I have become too old to go on my own.’

‘You’ll be rich, so find a couple of young blondes for company.’

‘At our age, Enrique, a young blonde does one no good.’

‘Here, speak for yourself, old man.’

‘Now I know that it is not cabbages and cauliflowers that you truly dream about.’

Alvarez emptied his glass and passed it over. ‘Give me another or I’ll start weeping even more than Maria and Lucia.’

‘I went and saw Ramon,’ said Anson.

‘What did he say?’ asked Caroline excitedly.

He stood up and began to pace the length of Bertha Jarmine’s sitting-room. ‘Being a Mallorquin, he tried to start talking about interest if the money wasn’t paid right away, but he’s a decent old stick at heart and he was in a sentimental mood because his niece is getting married so in the end he said OK.’

‘Then you’re a partner! Oh, Teddy, isn’t it wonderful! I told you from the beginning your name would be going up outside the yard, didn’t I?’

He stopped and faced her. ‘I still hate the thought of taking the money from you.’

‘But we’ve been all over that. I’m not going to give it to you, it’ll be a loan, drawn up by a solicitor because that’s what you want. It’s a straight business deal.’

Her enthusiasm and vulnerable beauty raised a lump in his throat. ‘When I’ve paid you back, Carrie, and we’re building yachts for oil sheiks . . .’ He stopped as Bertha came into the room and his expression was momentarily angry.

‘D’you want a drink, Teddy?’ Bertha asked. She was dressed in a see-through blouse and very tight pink trousers: only she could have worn such clothes without appearing completely vulgar.

‘No, thanks. I’ve got to get back to the Port.’

‘Are you starting as a partner right away?’ Caroline asked.

‘In name only.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘Ramon made that absolutely clear. No share of profits until the last peseta is paid in - until then I work for as small a wage as he dares offer.’

‘I’ve already asked the solicitor to be as quick as possible.’

‘But it’s bound to take time.’

‘You can borrow . . .’

‘I’m not borrowing another peseta.’ He crossed the room to the door. ‘Be seeing you, Carrie. So long. Bertha.’ He left.

Bertha walked over to the cocktail cabinet. ‘Your usual?’ Caroline nodded and she poured out a sweet vermouth and a gin and tonic. ‘Carrie, I’m going to say something because I’ve a big mouth and I’ve had four husbands, which makes me an authority on bastards. Teddy could be trouble.’

‘That’s ridiculous. Why does everyone go on and on slandering him? Why don’t you like him?’

‘Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never said I dislike him. He’s a great big hunk of he-man and I could get goose-pimply wondering just how much of a man he could be. But I’m old and seasoned and know how to look after myself. You don’t. And I’d hate like hell for you to get hurt.’ She envied Caroline because Caroline was young and still knew ideals, yet for once her envy raised only a desire to protect, not sharp jealousy.

‘What on earth d’you think can happen to me?’

‘He can hit you very hard financially.’

‘No. I can trust him absolutely.’

Bertha brought over the drinks. She handed one glass to Caroline, then went to a chair and sat down. ‘Money comes too hard to take any risks and it’s a girl’s lifeline, even if diamonds are her best friend. So if you do get anything much from Mabel’s will, for God’s sake hang on to every penny. After all, if the partnership in the boatyard were such a good proposition, wouldn’t the banks have lent him the money?’

‘He’s no security to offer.’

‘And they reckon he’s a bad risk without security?’

‘I don’t care what they reckon. I just know that he himself is security enough for ten times what I’m lending him.’

Bertha signed. ‘All right, so you’ve made up your mind. But have you also thought how hard he can hurt you emotionally? Carrie, true knights in shining armour are becoming mighty thin on the ground: most of ‘em are false and their armour’s made of tin.’

‘They’re around if you’re prepared to see them.’

‘How much do you really like him?’

‘A lot,’ answered Caroline proudly.

Bertha drank, knowing she was defeated.

On Thursday morning, the corporal stepped inside the Club Llueso and checked the bar. When he saw Alvarez, he laughed loudly. ‘I offered two to one you’d be here.’

‘So you’ve made a fortune?’

‘Give over. D’you think anyone would bet against a cert? I think I’ll just have a coffee and a coñac.’

He went over to the bar to order. He returned to the table after being handed the brandy and sat opposite Alvarez. ‘There’s a message for you come through from the Peninsula. It seems pretty urgent.’

‘Any idea what its gist is?’

‘You’ve asked for enquiries to be made about a bloke. They’ve turned him up under a different name.’

‘Where abouts is he?’

‘Cala San Pedro. No one I asked knew the place so I looked it up on the map. It’s roughly half-way along Rosas Bay and looks pretty small.’

‘Do they give any details about the bloke?’ ‘Nothing except to say that the dabs are his and that the name he’s using now is . . . Don’t remember exactly, but it’s something like Snow. I’ve put the full text on your desk.’