An Artistic Way to Go (17 page)

‘Let you clear off and come back when I'm feeling better.'

‘I certainly would like to, but for the moment that is impossible.'

Burns sat.

‘I am sure you will have heard that Señor Cooper has been found dead?' Alvarez said, after removing a pile of yachting magazines from the second chair.

‘He's been dead for days.'

‘He has been missing, presumed dead. He was killed last night.'

‘All very dramatic, but what's that to do with me?'

‘You knew him.'

‘Knowing him consisted of meeting him once at his place and not being offered a drink.'

‘But you know Señora Cooper well?'

‘And that gets your twisted mind all excited? We ran a course and when it was over, we said goodbye. So that's the end of it.'

‘I would like to accept that, but for the moment cannot be so certain that your relationship with the señora is of no importance to my investigation.'

‘I'm telling you…'

‘When you and the señora were together, she could have said something that seemed inconsequential at the time, but may be of importance now when I have to try to find out who murdered the señor. Did she ever mention a Señor White?'

‘No.'

‘Did she ever say that the señor had been or was thinking of going to America?'

‘No.'

‘Has she spoken about the trouble the señor had with his neighbour over water rights?'

‘Just that the stupid old fool next door was forever causing hassle and they were having to employ a solicitor to make him see sense.'

‘When did you last see the señora?'

‘What's it to you?'

‘I have to know.'

After a moment, Burns said sullenly: ‘Like I've told you before, it was some good time ago. Before her husband vanished.'

‘Where were you last night, between nine and ten?'

‘Eating.'

‘Where?'

‘At the Celler Verde.'

‘That is not here?'

‘Santa Maria.'

‘It is a fair way to go for a meal.'

‘So is there a law against travelling?'

‘Were you on your own?'

Burns hesitated. ‘No,' he finally said.

‘Who were you with?'

‘A woman.'

‘Señora Cooper?'

‘Haven't I just said I've not seen her recently? I picked up a woman on the beach and she turned out to be a culture vulture and wanted to see the real Mallorca. So I took her to the celler and she loved the bare tables, trestles, wine casks and jugs of wine, and thought she'd been on safari.'

‘I shall, of course, have to establish that your companion was not the señora and so I will be questioning the staff and, if necessary, showing them a photo of her.'

Burns swore.

‘Do you not understand that when a man has been murdered, I have to establish the motive for his murder? So I ask myself, suppose the affair between you and the señora had not come to an end and the señor had learned about it, what might have happened? I think that he was not a man with a generous heart, ready to forgive. He would have determined to do whatever most hurt his wife and, indirectly, you. And the easiest way of attaining that goal must be to change his will and leave her nothing, instead of everything. That frightened the señora because without the wealth how could she be certain to hold you? So she persuaded you to kill him before he could actually change his will…'

‘No!' Rachael cried.

They turned to see her in the doorway of the inner room. She was wearing a hand-embroidered silk blouse and an iridescent skirt and the shaft of sunlight that came through the window created a texture of light at the back of the room that touched her, as she stood with one hand to her throat, with a hint of ethereality.

She moved forward, to become purely physical. She faced Alvarez, said in a small, husky voice: ‘How could you even imagine such beastly things?'

‘Sadly, it is my job to do so,' he replied defensively.

‘But to suggest I'd want to hurt Oliver and would ask Neil…' She swung round. ‘Tell him you wouldn't ever have hurt Oliver, not in a thousand years, not for all the treasures of the world.'

‘If he thinks I'm a murderer, he's a bloody fool,' Burns said violently.

She spoke to Alvarez once more. ‘You see?'

‘Unfortunately, señora, I know that he is a liar.'

‘Because he told you he hadn't seen me in days and days and that it was someone else he took to the restaurant? He only did that to defend me. Don't you understand what the local community would say if they ever learned? They rush to think the worst. It would give them enough to gossip about for weeks and they'd call me a complete bitch, having an affair when my husband was missing and probably dead.'

‘But you were…'

‘You think that because I was out with Neil last night and I'm here now … You're just like all the others. And I thought you were so different because you seemed so kind and understanding … Just how wrong can one be?'

‘Señora, what am I to believe when I come here this afternoon and find you in the bedroom?'

She sat on the bedraggled settee, rested her elbows on her knees, cupped her chin on her hands, stared into space. ‘Because we knew it was summer madness, we also knew it had to have an end. When it finished, we agreed not to see each other again. But then Oliver disappeared and I didn't know how to live through the agony because I loved him so.' Her voice briefly rose. ‘I loved him, despite what had happened. You've got to understand that.' She once more spoke quietly. ‘The world seemed to be crushing me until I also wanted to commit suicide to bring everything to an end. Then Neil rang to say how sorry he was to hear what had happened and I begged him to take me out somewhere so that just for a short while I could escape. At first, he wouldn't. He said that in the circumstances it was impossible. I went on and on, begging him; I even said he owed it to me because of what happened before. I'm not proud of that. It was a filthy thing to do, to blackmail him emotionally. But I was so desperate … In the end, he agreed. We had a meal in Santa Maria because we were as certain as we could be that no one else from Llueso would be there to see us. And being with him, realizing that the rest of the world was still alive, made such a difference.

‘Then I returned home and found Oliver, lying in the dressing-room, his head a terrible sight. It was like being put on the rack. Even though I knew he had to be dead, I tried to will him alive … The doctor came and wanted to give me a sedative, but I wouldn't take it. I can remember thinking that since Oliver had suffered so much, I had to suffer as well … I was slightly crazy. But one corner of my mind remained clear enough to know that I had to pull myself together and that Neil could help me do that. So I phoned him. And because he's someone who can really care, he told me to come here. With him, some of the blackness began to slip away. But you think … you think he and I…'

‘Señora, I have to say it again, when I arrived, you were both in the bedroom.'

She raised her head, lowered her hands, faced him. ‘We were in this room when Neil happened to look out through the window and see you approaching. He said that if you found me here, you'd draw the wrong conclusion. I argued that you weren't that kind of person and you'd understand, but he insisted we hide in the bedroom and make it seem the flat was empty, so you'd go away … Only you didn't. And now I know I was so wrong about you. You're just as ready to think the worst.'

He would have given much to accept all she'd said, but duty drove him to say: ‘You arrived back at Ca'n Oliver early this morning to find your husband's body. Where were you during the night and until six this morning?'

‘You think I'm still lying? You really can believe I'd spend the night with Neil when my husband was missing?'

‘It doesn't matter what I think, I have to determine the facts.'

‘Then I'm going to have to disappoint you once again. Neil was driving me home from the restaurant when I told him I couldn't face spending the night on my own so I asked him to take me to Muriel's. She put me up for the night, but I couldn't sleep and in the end decided that since I'd have to face life sooner or later, it might as well be sooner. I wrote a note to explain and left it on the kitchen table, walked home. Which was when I found…' She buried her face in her hands.

‘Satisfied?' Burns demanded angrily.

‘Señor, sometimes one has a duty to perform…'

‘Which you've performed in hobnail boots. Why don't you clear out?'

He left.

*   *   *

Alvarez replaced the receiver. The owner of Celler Verde remembered the two foreigners, each of whom he'd personally served with tortilla, lomo con col, and Xulla del cel; he remembered them first because the celler was not frequented by many foreigners, secondly because the man had spoken in Spanish. He was hazy when it came to describing the man, but the woman … He'd have one like her on each arm after he'd won six hundred million on the lottery and persuaded his wife to see her cousins in Salamanca.

Alvarez said that he might be asked to identify two photographs, thanked him, rang off. Even without photographic identification, there could be little doubt that it had been Rachael and Burns who had eaten at Celler Verde. So they also had an alibi …

He was going to have to phone the superior chief. He sighed, reached down and pulled open the bottom right-hand drawer of the desk, brought out the bottle of brandy and a glass. He had a generous drink, decided that in the circumstances he needed another.

Salas's greeting was typical. ‘What is it?'

‘I have to report, señor, that I have now questioned all those whom I identified as having a motive for Señor Cooper's murder.'

‘And?'

‘Each person has an alibi for the presumed time of death.'

‘Does that lead you to any conclusion?'

‘Obviously, none of them can be the murderer.'

‘Your perspicacity is unusually sharp.'

‘There is the one further possible suspect, whom I've mentioned before. Señor Field knew Señor Cooper well, does not have an alibi, and was at Ca'n Oliver during the evening. One of the maids saw him drive away, but can't place the time; he admits to having returned home to arrive a little before ten.'

‘You refer to him as a possible suspect. With all the evidence to hand, you see no reason to regard him as the prime suspect?'

‘As I believe I mentioned, not only does he lack any motive, his relationship with the dead man argues against his having murdered him. Señor Cooper had helped him financially when his wife was seriously ill and that naturally left him deeply grateful. He spoke to me about these feelings and I have no doubt that he was telling me the truth. Beyond that, he possesses a tremendous desire to succeed as a painter – a desire that in some rather obscure way is fuelled by the memory of his wife – and Señor Cooper, who was in a position to do so, was giving him all possible help. Señor Cooper's death brings that help to an end and, I think, makes it very unlikely he will ever become a true artist, which will leave his ambition, with its deeper meaning, unfulfilled.'

‘If he is an artist, he is probably a pervert. Examine closely the relationship between the two men.'

And he had been accused of gratuitously introducing libidinous details into cases! ‘I would think it very unlikely that Señor Cooper was of such persuasion. He is married to a woman…'

‘Why must you always argue? Learn to do as you're ordered, without comment.'

‘Yes, señor.'

‘Did you tell me that the house has a good security system?'

‘It's very good.'

‘But no alarm sounded?'

‘That's right.'

‘And there's no sign of a forced entry?'

‘That is so.'

‘Then has it occurred to you that the murderer must be acquainted with all the details of the security system?'

‘Indeed. Which is one reason why it seemed Señor Burns and Señora Cooper were the most likely suspects. But both of them have an alibi.'

‘What about this artist fellow, who was at the house around the time of the murder?'

‘Whenever the Coopers were away, he kept an eye on the property and for that reason was given a key to the house; so, of course, he has a full knowledge of the security system. But according to him, when they returned from their holiday, Señor Cooper always reclaimed the key. On Wednesday evening, he says he went to see if he could help the señora. She was not there, so he didn't enter the house.'

‘What stopped his having made an impression of the key when he had been given it?'

‘Nothing. Only…'

‘Well?'

‘With no motive for murdering the señor, for motive to wish him to continue to live as long as possible, I find it very difficult to conceive that he can be the murderer.'

‘All the more reason for considering it as highly probable … Why did Cooper originally fake his own death?'

‘It surely has to be because of what happened during Señor White's visit.'

‘What
did
happen?'

‘I haven't been able to discover that.'

‘Having taken the trouble to fake his death, why did he return to his house?'

‘I haven't identified the reason yet.'

‘What is the connection between his faked death and his murder?'

‘There's no apparent connection. But it has to be too much of a coincidence…'

‘Since Cooper has done everything to hide himself and did not even alert his wife to his return, how could the murderer have known he was in the house?'

‘That does seem to raise a difficulty…'

‘Even allowing for the fact that it is your investigation, I am astounded to be met with such a catalogue of unresolved questions.'