Murdered by Nature (23 page)

‘Señor, is that necessary when I doubt there is any further evidence to be gained?'

‘A good reason to believe the contrary.'

‘Was the meal so unappetizing?' Dolores asked Alvarez.

On his plate there remained a pork chop covered in a sauce made from milk, egg, olive oil, lemon juice, lard, parsley, pepper and salt.

‘Perhaps I made a mistake. Did I forget the eggs?' she continued. ‘But I am sure I cannot have done. However, one can only do one's best even when that is unappreciated.'

Jaime kicked Alvarez's ankle harder than intended. Alvarez yelped, as much from surprise as pain. ‘What the hell are you doing?' he demanded as he reached down to rub his ankle.

‘One must presume,' she said, ‘that my husband was, in his own way, showing sympathy for me.'

‘How does fracturing my ankle do that?'

‘Understanding how long I spend in an overheated kitchen – the fan has still not been repaired – how hard I try to provide a tasty meal no matter how exhausted I am, he is disturbed by your thoughtless manner.'

‘What have I done now?'

‘You have eaten hardly anything. Perhaps the dog next door will not be so particular about its diet.'

‘It's a delicious
Costelles amb parallat
.'

‘So delicious, you cannot bring yourself to eat more than a mouthful. However, since the rest of the family always enjoy their food, I will continue to try to please them.'

‘I'm sorry . . .'

‘As my mother used to say, apologizing is easier than avoiding the need to apologize.'

‘I'm very worried.'

‘She's checked the calendar?' Jaime suggested.

Dolores looked at him. Then, showing the concern she experienced when any family problem arose, she said quietly: ‘What is wrong, Enrique?'

‘Work,' Alvarez answered. ‘I've taken one hell of a risk, and if Salas finds out . . . He'll get rid of me as if I had the plague.'

‘What have you done?'

‘Broken most of the rules.'

‘Why?'

‘If I hadn't, she was in danger of being either imprisoned or emotionally castrated.'

‘When she's a woman?' Jaime asked.

‘That you should think such a question does not surprise me,' she said. ‘That you should ask it aloud, in front of the children, shocks me.'

Jaime hurriedly spoke to Alvarez. ‘Is the problem because of the widow of the very wealthy Englishman from the bay?'

‘Yes.'

‘Is she Uncle's latest party piece?' Juan asked.

Dolores stood. ‘There are times when my love for my family is sorely strained. Enrique, you will forgive my husband and son for their unthinking manners. Despite the many years I have tried to instil in them the need to act with kindness and understanding, I have failed. Do you wish to eat any more of your meal?'

‘It really is delicious, but the worry has upset my stomach.'

‘A man with a full stomach sheds his worries.'

‘Your mother said that?' Jaime asked.

‘I did. Enrique, give me your plate and I will warm up what you have left and, should you wish, you can finish it and also the little the others have left.'

Alvarez handed her his plate, and she carried it in to the kitchen.

‘Even Einstein couldn't understand her,' Jaime muttered as he refilled his glass. ‘She starts off saying what she thinks of you, ends up waiting on you hand and foot.'

Alvarez crossed to where García had just parked his Mobylette behind the garage at Son Dragó. ‘You're late.'

‘If you was paying the wages, I'd tell you why.'

‘You're to be at the post in Llueso at midday tomorrow.'

‘Why?'

‘Inspector Domengue will question you about the man you saw on the estate shortly before Kerr was murdered.'

‘I ain't talking to no one else.'

‘You've no option unless you want to be found guilty of lying to the police.'

‘I ain't said anything to anyone but you.'

‘I am the police.'

For once, García found it difficult to say what he was thinking.

‘Domengue has come from Madrid and my superior chief reckons he's very sharp. Being from there, he'll consider you to be an illiterate. Never hurts to help a man confirm his predetermined judgement.'

‘Why can't you talk straight?'

Alvarez lit another cigarette. It might shorten his life by minutes, but anxiety and imagination was doing that by weeks. It was nearly five, and he still did not know how much García had been tricked into admitting. Suppose it had been everything? Unemployment was high except in the tourist season when there were temporary jobs for barmen, cooks, waiters, shop assistants . . . Would he be forced to find a job in a supermarket, telling holidaymakers Marmite was on the top shelf to the right of the second aisle, baked beans on the bottom shelf to the left of the fourth aisle?

The phone rang. He stubbed out the cigarette, reached for the receiver, hesitated. Until he answered the call, he remained an inspector.

‘Yes,' he said, his voice hoarse.

‘Alvarez, I have received a report from Inspector Domengue regarding his questioning of Felipe García,' Salas said.

Alvarez stared down at the bottom drawer in the desk. Alcohol soothed sorrow, healed wounds, overcame regrets.

‘You have no interest in his report?'

‘Of course I have, señor; very great interest. I was just wondering what it would be.'

‘Inspector Domengue has, in his own words, never before questioned anyone so lacking in normal intelligence. When asked to describe the man who mentioned Kerr, García said he was about one metre seventy, but moments later, he was so tall it was like looking up at a tree; his hair was black, it was brown; he had a beard, then only a moustache. How did García know the man was angry and wanted to speak to Kerr when he couldn't understand English? He rushed into a flood of Mallorquin, which the inspector does not speak, as he tried to indicate what the man was doing, but looked as if he were imitating a windmill being blown to pieces. All the Inspector could determine was that the name Kerr was repeated several times and the man's manner showed considerable anger.'

‘What is the inspector's conclusion, señor?'

‘He would rather try to make sense of a four year old discussing the quantum theory.'

‘Does he believe that García met a man on the estate shortly before Kerr died who clearly expressed reason to dislike Kerr?'

‘In spite of all the garbled incoherence, that is the one point in García's evidence which he is prepared to accept. So you will identify this man.'

‘Identify him?'

‘That is what I said.'

‘But with so little information, what chance is there of ever doing that?'

‘None, if you start by accepting failure.'

‘It's just that—'

‘As efficient an interrogator as is Inspector Domengue, he has had little or no experience of questioning a typical Mallorquin of peasant background. In the circumstances, you are in a position to gather much more relevant information from García.'

‘I will try my best, señor.'

‘You will do better than that.'

‘Even if I am unable to identify the trespasser, it is obvious Señora Ashton can no longer be considered a suspect.'

‘You will leave me to determine such consideration.'

‘You still think it possible she might be guilty when there is not a shred of evidence against her; when her guilt can only be provisionally accepted by assumptions for which, as you have made clear many times, you have a great dislike?'

Salas cut the connection.

Alvarez brought a bottle of Soberano and a glass out of the bottom drawer of the desk.