Murdered by Nature (20 page)

He called the waiter and asked them what they would like. Matilde chose a chocolate sundae similar to the one he had, which was wilting badly despite being in the shade of the umbrella. Inés, unable to decide, finally agreed to have the same. He said he would have another brandy. As the waiter left, he suggested they shared his ice cream which, as they could see, he had not started. Matilde immediately accepted the offer; Inés did not share it.

As he watched them walk away, twenty minutes later, he wondered if Inés would gain self-confidence as she grew older. He doubted it. Or that her father would ever accept he was to blame.

He finished his second brandy, pulled the bills off the spike, mentally added up the totals and wondered how he could have been such a fool as to eat and drink at a tourist café.

He rang Palma.

‘Superior Chief Salas is not in his office,' Ángela Torres announced.

‘I'll speak to him tomorrow morning.'

‘You may make a preliminary report to me.'

‘I have been very busy questioning people . . .'

‘Name those you have questioned.'

He was convinced she thought he would only be able to give one name. ‘Benavides, who is the butler at Son Dragó—'

‘You do not need to identify the position of the person concerned. I am aware what that is.'

‘García, Patera, Valles. And Beatriz,' he added, to make up numbers.

‘You did not question Señora Ashton?'

‘She is away, staying with friends to have a break from all her problems and sorrow.'

‘You have not spoken to her over the phone?'

‘She did not tell anyone where she was going or who she was staying with.'

‘That seems very unlikely.'

‘If you need to corroborate the facts, perhaps you'll phone Benavides, who you will know is the butler.'

‘The superior chief expects his juniors to carry out their own tasks, not rely on others to do them.'

‘All I was—' He did not have the chance to explain. She had replaced the receiver.

The children were late back for supper. Dolores reproved them; it was rude to keep others waiting. She served
Salsa verda para pescado
. The fish was tuna, the sauce parsley, garlic, paprika, lemon juice, olive oil and salt.

‘I've had a busy day,' Alvarez said.

Isabel giggled.

‘There's no need for that,' Dolores said quietly.

Juan giggled.

‘And the same applies to you.' Her tone had become sharper.

They looked down at their plates. ‘Very busy,' Isabel murmured. Juan tried not to giggle, ended up snorting.

‘You will behave yourself or go into the kitchen to eat.'

Isabel said: ‘We saw uncle earlier this evening.'

Juan sniggered.

Dolores hesitated between ordering them into the kitchen and learning why there should be amusement in their having seen Alvarez earlier.

‘I didn't see either of you two,' Alvarez remarked.

They could not control their amusement and were sent into the kitchen with their plates.

‘Were you wearing fancy dress?' Jaime asked.

Alvarez ignored Dolores' sharp look and refilled his glass.

‘Why are the children behaving so stupidly?' she asked.

‘I'm damned if I know.'

‘And be damned if you don't,' Jaime added.

‘Perhaps we should have a second kitchen,' she snapped, ‘in order to accommodate the overflow from the first.'

‘How d'you mean?'

‘Of small moment. Tell the children they can come back in.'

‘But they've only just gone out.'

‘I should have remembered it is always quicker to do something myself than wait for you to decide to do as asked.' She went into the kitchen, returned with Juan and Isabel. The meal continued in near silence.

She collected up the plates and cutlery. ‘Isabel, you can carry these through; Juan, take the breadboard and the barra. Thinking the family might like a treat, I bought some chocolate ice cream . . .' She stopped as the children once more sniggered.

She hit the table with the flat of her hand. ‘Since no one will enjoy the treat while ill manners prevail, you two will explain what so rudely amuses you.'

They looked at each other.

‘You do not wish to have any ice cream?'

Isabel spoke slowly, careful not to look at her brother. ‘Two girls were having chocolate sundaes at Café Tomás.'

‘If that is a cause for amusement, I fear we may suffer your stupidity until the end of the season.'

‘Both of them,' Juan added.

‘Many tourists eat and drink at that café.'

‘They weren't much older than me and didn't look anything special.'

‘To eat at a café for tourists for whom money is no object is very foolish but no cause for amusement.'

‘Then uncle is very foolish?'

‘Are you saying . . . ? Isabel, you will help me with the ice cream.'

‘Why can't Juan?'

Twenty minutes later, the table had been cleared except for two glasses, an ice bucket, and a bottle of Soberano, the children had gone out, and Dolores' expression was that of a rider who had just been told her horse was cow-hocked. Alvarez hastened to leave. ‘I must get back to the post. With all the work—'

‘You will leave when I have said what I have to say.'

‘You won't want me.' Jaime began to stand, holding on to the edge of the table for balance. ‘I promised to meet Tolo . . .'

‘He will wait. Enrique, is it true you were in the square?'

‘Yes, but—'

‘You were at Café Tomás?'

‘I suddenly felt I had to sit for a while.'

‘Were there others at the table?'

‘You're not going to start—'

‘Was Juan correct to describe them as young girls?'

‘If you think—'

‘My thoughts are simple. For a man of your age to be in the company of two young women who you are feeding chocolate sundaes, as a hunter uses bait, is contemptible; to do this in full view of any passing villager is humiliating.'

‘I gave them a good time in the hope they would give me a good time? Is that what you think?'

‘I do not wish to express my further thoughts.'

‘You've just been doing so.'

‘By tomorrow, everyone in the village will know about this and our family will be shamed.'

‘Would you care to listen to the facts before you get things even more wrong?'

‘I'll move and see if Tolo is still there,' Jaime said. He let go of the table and took a pace towards the
entrada
.

‘You will listen to what I have to say so that should you be tempted by immoral thoughts to entertain a young lady – or if, like Enrique, you know of no limit to licentiousness,
two
young ladies – you will understand—'

Alvarez interrupted her. ‘I was at Café Tomás when I saw Inés with a friend. She is very naive and mentally overpowered by her father who is some kind of cultist. She works at Son Dragó because the señor and señora were kind enough to employ her even though advised by the staff not to. I had not met her friend, Matilde, before and will not be concerned if I never meet her again. Conversation was carried on by her, talking endlessly about nothing. And to make things quite clear, I did not slip my hand under the table and—'

‘You will not refer to such disgraceful action.'

‘You accused me of shaming the family . . . !'

‘I have no wish to continue the conversation.' She swept out of the room.

‘Now you've annoyed her so much, we'll likely be having to eat garbanzos,' Jaime muttered.

‘Do you never consider anything but your stomach? It doesn't worry you two cents she got everything wrong when she went for me?'

‘Now she's away, let's hear what really happened. You picked up one of 'em and the other tagged along and wouldn't take the hint and clear off to leave you to get cracking?'

Alvarez poured himself another drink.

T
he wind was strong, and the trees, shrubs and bushes along the drive to Son Dragó were in constant, irregular motion. The sea was equally restless; waves slapped Roca Nesca, sending spray sufficiently high that, at one point, Alvarez had to switch on the windscreen wipers.

He braked to a halt. He silently promised himself to forgo any drinks that day if Laura Ashton had decided to remain longer with her friends. As he left the car and walked to the front door, he added the further denial of cigarettes if Benavides informed him the señora would not be returning for several days and still could not name with whom or where she was staying.

Benavides opened the front door. ‘Good morning, inspector. You wish to speak to Señora Ashton?'

‘She has not returned?'

‘She did so yesterday evening.'

What was the good of self-denial if there was no compensation? ‘Perhaps her short break has not been as promising as she'd hoped?'

‘If I may venture an opinion, she has returned in better spirits.'

‘Yet you think it might be wise for me to wait a day or two before having another talk with her?'

‘I should not like to give an opinion as to that, but in Valladolid we say “it will take twice as long tomorrow”. Would you like to enter?'

He was shown into the sitting room. He looked through the nearer picture window and wished he was outside, in the fresh, salty wind.

Laura entered. ‘Good morning, inspector.'

He returned the greeting. Her dress was in two dark, flat colours, which suited her as well as carrying the suggestion of mourning. She looked relaxed, spoke easily; when she sat, she rested her arms on the chair. ‘I hope things won't be as dramatic as last time.'

‘I . . . That is . . .'

His nervousness induced in her a sense of tension. She began to fidget with the material of the chair arm. If it had to be done, it was best done quickly. ‘Señora, what was your name before you married Señor Ashton?'

'How can that matter?'

‘I should like to know.'

‘For what reason?'

‘I think that will become clear.'

Benavides entered. ‘Would you wish for coffee, señora?'

‘Yes, please. And the inspector might also like some.'

When Benavides briefly looked directly at him, Alvarez ‘heard' the other's silent words. Treat her kindly; say nothing to make her realize you can believe she might have murdered Kerr.

Benavides left.

She said: ‘If it's so important, I was christened Laura Dorothy Lomas.'

‘And when you married Señor Ashton, that was your name?'

‘Why d'you think it could have been anything else?' she asked sharply.

Had she not included ‘Dorothy', he might have accepted he had added coincidence to coincidence. ‘It was not Laura Dorothy Kerr?'

She made a mewling sound which came from the back of her throat. ‘No,' she denied shrilly.

‘Señora, I have learned that Colin Kerr suffered a serious injury to his neck and, in hospital, his life was saved by a nurse. Were you that nurse?'

‘No,' she answered. Her denial lacked all conviction.

‘Did you marry Kerr?'

‘You can't understand,' she said shrilly.

Benavides entered, offered the tray to Laura so she could help herself to milk and sugar. He crossed to where Alvarez sat, thrust the tray forward as he said: ‘
Picor de Satanás
.' He left.

‘Was he blackmailing you because Señor Ashton did not know you were married when he met you in the hospital in which he was a patient? Señora, I should like to know.'

‘No!'

He waited.

She stared at the carpet in front of her chair. ‘Charles' wife died.'

He made no comment.

Her voice became calmer. ‘Knowing that his mental pain would be worse than his physical pain, I gave him all the sympathy I could. When he left hospital, he insisted I went with him as a private nurse. One day, he . . . he proposed to me.

‘I didn't know how to answer. I had come to like him very much – his strength of character, compassion, sense of humour – but his was a different world from the one I knew. I told him that people would say I was marrying him for his money. I still remember what he replied.'

‘May I know what he said?'

‘More damn fools if they're so small-minded they can't understand you're someone who could never sell herself.'

‘You did not tell him you were married?'

‘The houses in London, here, the Bahamas, the flat in New York; flying everywhere first class, staff to do the work, money to buy beautiful clothes . . . Perhaps I did sell myself.'

‘No,' he said sharply. ‘You would not have married him had you not been in love; luxuries would have counted for nothing.'

She looked up and at him. ‘You believe that?'

‘In the short time I have known you, señora, I have learned that you are totally honest.'

‘When I didn't tell Charles before we were married? And I never regretted not having done so until . . .'

‘Until, señora?'

‘Manuel told me someone had phoned and wanted to speak to me, his name was Kerr. I was frightened and refused to answer that time. I desperately tried to believe the caller could not have been Colin. There had to be dozens of men with the surname Kerr. Then he turned up here. Manuel would not let him in. He came again, when Charles and Felipe were sailing. Colin said he needed money and if I'd give him five thousand euros, he'd forget we'd been married and had not divorced so my marriage to Charles was . . . was bigamous.'

‘You paid the money?' he asked, knowing it had not been she.

‘Charles gave me an allowance so I didn't have to ask for money every time I wanted to buy something, but I couldn't meet so large a demand. He was becoming very ill and I was terrified how he'd react if he learned we weren't legally married because he held old-fashioned moral values.'