Broken Faith (4 page)

Chapter Five

Today it was a lemon yellow shirt and fawn slacks but the same black handbag. Suarez had worn a different outfit each day and she'd looked good in all of them.

‘What do you think?'

For a moment Jimmy thought she was asking him about her outfit. Then he realised she was asking him about the house they were in. He dragged his mind away from the way she looked to the room they were sitting in, a small living room.

‘It's great. Thanks for getting it for me.'

‘No problem. Your own place is better than a hotel room if you're going to be here for a while and it was empty for a fortnight, the next let isn't for two weeks. After that we'll sort something else out. And don't worry about the money, my cousin will give you a good price.'

‘Tell your cousin he can charge the full rental. I won't be the one paying.'

‘In that case I'm doing you both a favour, he lets the house, you get somewhere comfortable to stay, and everybody's happy.'

‘I'm surprised it's not occupied at this time of year. The town looks busy, plenty of tourists.'

‘Not as busy as it used to be. Maybe the best days are over. People want exotic, to go to places like Thailand. Money's tight all round. It's hard to find anything that pays well these days.'

‘There's always crime.'

Suarez laughed.

‘Too true, Jimmy, there's always money in crime.'

The neat little house was in a quiet street a short walk from the sea front, one of a terrace of identical fronts differentiated by the bright colours they were painted. The front door opened onto the street but it had a small back yard where there was a table with a parasol, chairs and, of course, the inevitable barbecue. Suarez had suggested it and then arranged things with her cousin. As it was a holiday property he'd been able to move straight in. Now, after twenty-four hours of residence he felt at home.

 Jimmy threw the folder he'd been reading on to the coffee table between them. It was an English translation of the Jarvis autopsy made for the files of the British Embassy, a small courtesy when one of your nationals has part of his head blown off. Suarez had dropped it off on her way to work and said she'd be back to go through it with him in an hour. He'd gone through it carefully twice, once after she had left and again now before just before she came back.

He wanted to let her see what a thorough job he could do. He wanted to impress her. She was sitting opposite waiting to be impressed.

 ‘You want a coffee or anything?' Suarez shook her head. Jimmy picked up the last piece of bread and apricot preserve from his plate and ate it, then finished his coffee. Breakfast was over. Now it was time to go to work. ‘As far as I can see, apart from a bullet in the head there's nothing. It went in at the back at the base of the skull and exited through his forehead and blew off most of the top part of the front of his head. What calibre, it doesn't say in the file?'

‘Nine millimetre. Ordinary parabellum bullet.'

‘How tall was Jarvis?'

‘One metre eighty-two, just under six feet. Like you say, the bullet went in at the back low and came out at about the hair line and hit the kitchen wall at two metres twenty-seven.'

‘So the killer was shorter than Jarvis?'

‘Possibly, or held the gun to make it look like he or she was shorter, or knew how to make sure the bullet did the maximum damage.'

‘Well it all looks very professional, burn marks round the entry point so up close and certain. There's nothing else from the scene of crime report?'

‘If you mean forensic, no, nothing worthwhile. It wasn't any kind of robbery, just clean and certain. There was plenty of money in a drawer in the bedside table together with a passport and an airline ticket to Paris for the day after he was killed. Nothing was touched or taken so far as we can see.'

‘Was there a return ticket?'

‘No and no sign of any hotel reservations.'

‘What do you think the trip to Paris was about?'

Suarez gave a slight shrug.

‘Could be anything, a break, meeting somebody, how could we tell? All we have is the ticket, the passport and the money.'

She was right, unless there was a good reason it wasn't worth following and he couldn't come up with any good reason. Jarvis was going to Paris. Lots of people went to Paris. He left it alone.

‘He was found in the kitchen and there was no sign of any struggle?'

‘In the kitchen and no struggle.'

‘Then he must have known whoever it was. He went into the kitchen to make coffee or something, the killer followed and did what he did. Was there any sign of a clean up?'

‘No, and no evidence of a visitor but that doesn't mean there wasn't one. According to the case notes nobody saw anything or heard anything.'

Jimmy stood up and picked up his breakfast things. He continued talking as he headed for the only other downstairs room, the small dining kitchen.

‘Mid-morning, is that a quiet time where Jarvis lived?'

Suarez had followed him. She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, leaning against the woodwork while Jimmy took his mug and plate to the sink. 

 ‘It's residential, out of town, it's always quiet but at mid-morning I guess anyone who was going out, to work, to shop, to go to the beach, would have already gone. I'd say it would be a quiet time.'

Jimmy put his things down beside the sink and turned round.

‘But the killer couldn't be sure there'd be no one around to hear a shot. A gun makes a big noise, the sort of noise that gets noticed. Or maybe there was a silencer?'

Suarez shook her head.

‘No, you wouldn't get those kind of burn marks with a silencer.'

‘That's right.'

 ‘It's a pity though. A silencer would make it definitely professional. As it is we have clean but noisy, which could make it a lucky amateur.' Jimmy walked away from the sink. Suarez looked past him ‘You not going to wash up?'

‘Later.'

‘Men, always put things off.'

He gave her outfit a look.

‘And women, always putting things on.' She gave a small laugh and made way as Jimmy walked past her. She smelled as nice as she looked if you got up close. Jimmy thought it would be nice to get up even closer. But that wasn't why she was there, so he went back to the coffee table, sat down and pulled his shoes towards him. ‘So there's nothing for us to go on at the scene. Nothing in the house and no witnesses who heard anything or saw anything.'

Suarez came and stood beside his chair. She shook her head.

‘Except anything we get out of his computer.'

Jimmy finished pulling on his shoes.

‘How's that going? Got into it yet?'

‘We'll soon be there. The boys we've got on it think they'll find porn. The security is good, but, like the killing, not quite professional. If it is porn that gives us something to work with.'

‘It's possible. If it's nasty enough and there's others involved it might lead to a killing.' He sat back. ‘What I still don't understand is, why bring in ETA? Jarvis couldn't have any ETA connection. It doesn't make any sense.'

Suarez sat down.

‘I've been going over that and I think it was because of you.'

‘Me!'

‘Think about it. You arrived and we were waiting. There had to be a reason for that and one reason could be that when you told us there was a possible terrorist tie-in, no matter how unlikely, we couldn't ignore it. We would have to get involved and check it all out. That would mean that somebody wanted the police to get involved in what you were here for.'

Jimmy did as she'd asked, he thought about it. It made some sense, not a lot, but more than anything else they had.

‘Did you find out who gave you the tip about me?'

‘Your boss, Professor McBride.' Now why am I not surprised, thought Jimmy, as Suarez went on. ‘If I'm right, then McBride knew Jarvis was going to die, which means she had it done or knew who was going to have it done.'

What she was saying sounded right, and with anyone else in the frame he would have agreed, but he was still sure McBride didn't kill people or have them killed. He tried it out his way.

‘Maybe she knew someone was going to gun Jarvis but couldn't stop it so she sent me and tipped you off and then –'

‘Stop it, Jimmy. You're going up a blind alley. If she knew anything, either about the ETA thing or that Jarvis was a target, why play complicated games? Why not just tell us direct?'

‘Good question, I wish I had a good answer.'

‘Then ask her. Now you know it was her, just ask her.'

Jimmy didn't like it. It was the right thing to do, the obvious thing, he could see that, but he still didn't like it so he stalled.

‘Where does that get us?'

‘It gets us the answer.'

‘No. It gets us
an
answer.'

‘I see, she'd just lie. I thought you said she was on the side of the angels.'

‘She wouldn't see it as a lie. It would be true in a way –'

Suarez said something in Spanish and got up.

‘This is ridiculous. This isn't police work, it's a party game.' She looked down at Jimmy. ‘Except it's not a game. A man has been murdered and my job is to find out why he's dead and who killed him.' Jimmy lowered his eyes to the table and let Suarez work through her frustration. ‘You were a detective so if you can help, fine, but if you and your boss want to piss about with this investigation you can –'

It was Spanish again but Jimmy felt he had got the gist of it. He looked up.

‘Finished?' Suarez sat down. She was finished but she still wasn't a happy copper and he couldn't blame her. ‘Nobody's trying to piss you about,' he lied, then tried to get back to the business in hand. ‘Who have the police questioned?'

Suarez look at him and then grudgingly answered. She also wanted to get back to the business in hand but she still wasn't happy.

‘Some of the other UK ex-pats who live here and knew Jarvis. Neighbours, places he was known to visit.'

‘What about the priest, Fr Perez.'

‘I went round yesterday afternoon.'

‘What did he say?'

‘That they weren't really friends, they just liked to talk.  They'd first met when Jarvis had come over here looking for properties, they saw each other a few times after Jarvis moved here permanently, met in the street, had a coffee together a couple of times. When Fr Perez retired he asked Jarvis to drop by and visit him. He enjoyed keeping his English in good shape and Jarvis liked to talk religion so they met and talked. Then he told me pretty much what you told me, about Jarvis being frightened and talking about a Catholic big-wig on the inside of Eta. He didn't give me anything we didn't know already but I don't think he was holding anything back. If he's lying or hiding something he's good at it.'

Priests were good at it, thought Jimmy, they showed you the priest you wanted to see, the smiling, cheerful priest at weddings and christenings, the sombre priest at funerals. Priests who had been at it long enough could be anyone you wanted on the outside. But, if Perez wasn't going to tell any more than he already had, there was no way, at the moment, he could be pressured so Jimmy left it alone and moved on.

‘What about the ex-pat community?'

‘Jarvis wasn't much of a mixer, he was known, had the odd meal or drink with some of the British residents, used the same bars and restaurants sometimes. Mostly he seems to have kept himself to himself.'

‘Did he have any kind of sex-life?'

‘There was no evidence of a girlfriend. There was an unopened packet of condoms in the bedside drawer but nothing else.'

Jimmy's mind circled what they had and let a small link develop in his head.

‘How many of the ex-pats are Catholics?'

‘How should I know?'

‘Can you find out?'

‘I suppose so, the hard work got done when we collated the list to interview them about Jarvis. If they registered their religious affiliation when they applied for residence we can access it easily enough. Why?'

‘Let's say you arrive as a stranger here and you want to fit in quickly. You want people to know you've arrived and then forget about you. One way would be to make contact with somebody already here and get them to introduce you around but do it without any fuss. If there was a couple of Catholics already here you could go to their church, pretend to be a Catholic and there you are. And if the priest speaks English you cosy up to him and that makes it look even better. To the ex-pat community you're a Catholic who likes to talk religion with the local priest, keep yourself to yourself and pretty soon you get ignored, chalked down as somebody not worth bothering about. You don't speak Spanish so the locals don't give a toss about you either. Bingo, you're in, accepted, pigeonholed and invisible. Just like Jarvis.'

Suarez liked it. Jimmy was pleased she liked it. He was even more pleased when she followed up on it.

‘Or better still, if you wanted to make contact with someone who was already here because of a shared interest in the internet, then through a church would be a good way, it would look natural, innocent. Catholics? It's a good thought. The list of ex-pats is in the car. I'll call in, find out if any of them are on file from their applications as Catholics then I'll check –'

‘No.'

‘No?'

‘No,
we'll
check. We're working together on this, remember?'

Suarez remembered.

‘Sure. You ready?' Jimmy nodded and got up. ‘What about your washing up?'

She didn't mean it seriously.

‘That's OK, you can come back and do it later.'

She laughed. But Jimmy noticed she didn't say no. He felt pleased with himself, like a shy teen kid again.