Murdered by Nature (19 page)

‘Strange she should have asked you.'

‘Strange only to someone what thinks crookedly.'

‘Doesn't seem a question one would normally ask.'

‘You know what's normal, when people come here on an open day and try to find a few bitter almonds because they want to know what they taste like?'

‘Has anyone else ever asked you the same question as the señora did?'

‘Bloody near everyone who sees me. I tell 'em, eat one and you'll see double, eat two and you won't see anything.'

‘You're grossly overrating the potency of a nut.'

‘You ain't got the mind to reckon I maybe say wrong because it'll stop 'em trying a nibble or two and learning what guts' ache is?'

‘If you knew who poisoned Kerr, would you tell me the name?'

‘Wouldn't bother if it didn't bother me.'

‘Francisco Matias wrote, “Because man leans to injustice, democracy and truth are needed to straighten him.”'

‘All democracy does is allow us to kick out one bunch of thieves and let in another.'

‘You seem to have an unfortunate outlook on life.'

‘Sitting here with you don't offer me anything else.'

Whatever García claimed, Alvarez decided, he must have been born in Mestara.

A
lvarez rang at a reasonable time in the morning.

‘Señora Ashton's residence,' Benavides pompously announced.

‘Inspector Alvarez. Has the señora returned?'

‘Not yet.'

Alvarez experienced a cowardly relief. ‘I'll be over later to have a word with Beatriz. Will María or Raquel be with you today? I do have to speak to them again'

‘Raquel will be here.'

‘Ask her not to go before I have a word with her.'

‘Very well, inspector.'

He phoned Hotel Floris. ‘Is Señor Browyer still a guest?'

‘One moment, please.'

He tried to judge how long it could be before making a further report to Salas.

‘Señor Browyer is leaving after lunch to return to England.'

‘Ask him to remain at the hotel until I get there. I wish to speak to him.'

‘Very well.'

‘I'll be with you in an hour.' The drive would take half an hour, but
merienda
should never be hurried.

Browyer was pacing the hotel foyer. When Alvarez greeted him, his reply was a nervous, weak twitch of the mouth and a nod.

‘I won't keep you for long so there's no worry you'll miss your lunch.' Had it been he, lunch would have been a doubtful option.

‘You're not . . . not . . .'

‘Arresting you? I think not.'

Browyer used a handkerchief to clear sweat from his forehead.

‘Your room will be empty until later on, when the next load of tourists are due, so we'll go on up to it. Four one four?'

‘I . . . I can't remember.'

The room had not yet been prepared. A battered suitcase and holdall were on the floor by the unmade bed. Alvarez sat on that. Browyer remained standing. ‘I don't understand . . .'

‘Last time we spoke, I learned you frequently came to the island and stayed with your uncle in the hopes of persuading him to give you more money in the guise of borrowing it; also, probably, hoping to persuade him to change his will in some degree to your favour.'

‘That's not fair.'

‘Why not?'

‘I never mentioned his will to him.'

‘You expect me to believe that?'

‘I . . . Well, I didn't say anything so direct.'

‘A man for circumspection. Is there anything else you told me that needs a little clarification?'

‘I never saw him smoke anything.'

‘Which was correct.'

‘What more do you want? I can't tell you what I don't know.'

‘I will accept that. Tell me what kinds of almond trees grow in the grounds at Son Dragó.'

‘Kinds?'

‘Yes.'

‘They were all the same except for two or three.'

‘What was different about them?'

‘They were supposed to bear poisonous nuts.'

‘Who told you that?'

‘There was a notice to that effect. It was a bit scary. I couldn't understand why the trees were allowed to grow.'

‘Did you ever see the gardener knocking down the almonds from them with a long bamboo pole?'

‘I might have done.'

‘You can't be certain?'

‘I did talk to him but he became so rude . . . I remember it was when he was knocking them down that he picked up a handful from the ground and asked me if I'd like to eat several and find out if they really were dangerous. I told my uncle the gardener had tried to kill me and he should be sacked. My uncle just laughed, said Mallorquins had a queer sense of humour and the few nuts in his hand could do little more than remind me I was mortal.'

‘Thank you. You've told me all I need to know. I hope your luncheon here will be an enjoyable one.'

‘They're serving paella for those of us who are leaving. I hope I can have something else.'

‘You don't like paella?'

‘The thought of eating snails makes me feel sick.'

‘One made with snails will be too expensive a dish to be served here. You'll find it contains rice, fish or chicken, onions, garlic, peas, peppers, perhaps something more, but not the sniff of a snail.'

‘I'll be glad to get back home and have a decent meal.'

Raquel Valles entered the staff sitting-room. ‘Manuel says you want to talk to me again?'

‘Thanks for coming along.'

She sat, carefully hitching down her short skirt.

Unnecessary, he thought, but like most women, she flattered herself by believing a man always looked at her with exploring eyes. ‘I'd like to know whether the señora ever showed much interest in the garden?'

‘I'd say she likes it as much as the señor did. She often tells me when something is flowering, asks have I seen it, if not, I'm to go and look at it.'

‘You quite often walk in the garden, then?'

‘As often as possible. Sometimes, when my work's over, I spend maybe as much as an hour there. It seems to be full of peace: start off worried by this and that, and before long there aren't any problems. You won't understand, like as not.'

‘On the contrary. I'm a countryman and know that, when everything seems to have gone wrong, sitting in a field and watching a flock of sheep and lambs can do a power of good for the soul. On your walks, do you usually go to the end of Roca Nesca?'

‘When there's time.'

‘Past the bitter almond trees?'

‘Yes.'

‘Have you ever noticed that the warning notice about the almonds was missing?'

‘No.'

‘You'll have seen Felipe knocking them down?'

‘Once or twice.'

‘Does he collect them up and remove them?'

‘Ask him.'

‘You've not seen him do so?'

‘Yes.'

‘Have you ever noticed them lying about the place?'

‘Felipe collects them up and burns them. He'd have to be dead behind the forehead to leave them lying around.'

‘Have you ever tried a bitter almond to see what it tastes like?'

‘When a friend of my grandmother was starving during the war and ate so many she died?'

Sunshine came through the open window in a wide beam and began to reach where she sat. It highlighted the soft curve of her breasts under the light summer maid's uniform. The first coupe in which to serve champagne had reputedly been modelled on Marie-Antoinette's breast. If one wished to modernize . . .

‘Something interesting you?' she asked sharply.

‘I was thinking.'

‘Obviously.'

‘About glasses.'

‘Magnifying ones?'

‘I don't think there's anything more I need ask you.'

‘Satisfied you're wasting your time?'

She would never understand he had been appreciating nature's art, not lusting.

He drove to Ca'n Llop, walked up the chipped-stone path to the enlarged caseta, a building of strength, but no grace. A ratter – a local breed of island dog – ran out and briefly barked at him. He spoke to it, bent down and offered his hand; after some hesitation, he was allowed to stroke it. Unfortunately, Dolores was so house-proud, no dog would ever be welcomed.

María Patera stepped through the doorway.

‘You'll remember me,' he said.

She nodded, looked down at the dog. ‘Pedro's seldom friendly with a stranger. Even though you are a policeman, perhaps you are a good man.'

‘A very difficult combination.'

She smiled; the smile by which he remembered her. ‘You will come in and have a drink?'

‘I was hoping to be given the chance.'

During the course of drinking two tumblers of wine, they discussed the government, the rise in prices of everything, the growing amount of land abandoned to weeds – a sight which would have horrified their parents – and the recent accusation of bribery made against the mayor of a nearby village.

The ratter jumped on to his lap.

‘He never does that!' she exclaimed.

He was proud to be chosen, fondled the dog's ears. ‘You told me you worked part-time at Son Dragó.'

‘Me and Raquel each do three days.'

‘You clean the rooms and sometimes help Beatriz in the kitchen?'

‘I'm not going to say I like dusting, sweeping, cleaning, but I'd rather do that than be in the kitchen when something goes wrong with the cooking.'

‘Manuel says she can be rather fierce.'

‘I've heard her swear stronger than any man.'

‘When you tidy a room, I suppose you often open cupboards to put something in, like a clean dress?'

‘Cupboards, but not drawers. If there's something to put away in them, the señora prefers to do it herself.'

‘Have you ever come across a collection of almonds in a cupboard?'

‘In a bedroom? They're kept in the storeroom.'

‘And if they're bitter almonds?'

‘Straight into a bonfire, that's where they go, after Felipe's knocked them down.'

‘You've never seen any in the señora's bedroom?'

‘And I ain't seen a Christmas cactus either. You ask some daft questions for a man who likes a good home-made wine.'

‘I have to.'

‘Why?'

‘Somebody poisoned Kerr and I need to find out who.'

‘And you think . . . ? Them questions about bitter almonds in her bedroom . . . Don't you understand it's more likely to have been me than her, and I didn't even know he existed until he was found dead?'

‘Then you'd no reason to know Kerr scared her?'

‘Why should I have done?'

‘When very disturbed, she might have said something which made you realize he frightened her.'

‘She never mentioned him.'

‘It's possible that—'

‘Seems anything's possible for you. Maybe you think Santa Ana wielded a flaming sword to sweep the Moors out of the village and it wasn't the people who did that?'

‘Perhaps she was helping. Did the señora talk about her life in England?'

‘Sometimes.'

‘What did she say about it?'

‘Mostly that she was a hundred times happier here.'

‘Nothing more?'

‘Only what it was like nursing people when some was grateful, others cursed and even tried to attack her. Has to be a strange country when there's people like that.'

‘No mention of boyfriends?'

‘When she was married to the señor? It ain't surprising Raquel says as you . . .' She stopped abruptly.

‘Yes?'

‘Can't remember what she said.'

‘Try harder.'

‘I ain't going to say when I don't know if you'd be pleased or angry.'

He failed to work out what could raise such opposing possibilities.

The weather changed rapidly. By the early evening, the sky was clear, the sun was shining warmly, tables, chairs, and overhead sunshades were set in front of Café Tomás on the northern side of the old square. He watched the tourists, vaguely but sufficiently irritated they should enjoy leisure while he had to work so hard, crossed to a vacant table and sat. Obviously not a foreigner, he was ignored until he called a waiter over. For some reason, too incredible to explain, he ordered a chocolate sundae instead of a brandy.

He wondered if he had moved into a parallel universe.

The waiter returned, put the shaped glass filled with ice cream, cream and chocolate sauce topped with a wafer on the table, spiked the bill. Alvarez stared at the sundae. If he could not order a coñac in a parallel world, of what other necessities might he be deprived? He called the waiter back. ‘A coñac with just ice.'

‘Why didn't you ask for that the first time and save me trouble?'

The waiter did not quickly reappear. Shoving the shover, as the old saying put it; expressing his annoyance at having to make an extra unnecessary trip into the café. When he brought the brandy, he spiked the bill with such force that the table juddered.

Alvarez drank, satisfied and grateful he was not in a parallel universe. Ordering an ice cream had been due to one of those blips in the mind to which anyone could be subject.

Inés, with a young woman of her own age, walked down the sloping road at the side of the raised square; she was laughing and looked happy. When she saw him, the laughter stopped.

‘Hullo,' he said.

She muttered an inaudible reply.

‘Would you both like to come on up and have an ice cream?'

She shook her head. Her friend said something in a low tone, put her arm around Inés and almost frogmarched her to the head of the square and then along to his table. They sat. Matilde was a chatterbox. Inés had told her he was a detective, she said. Was that true? Was it exciting?