A Maze of Murders (3 page)

‘We don't yet know he is dead.'

‘Four people go to sleep in a boat in the bay and in the morning there are only three. You think he sprouted wings and flew?'

He thought that women made lousy detectives.

CHAPTER 4

The Hotel Alhambra, one road back from the front, catered for the lower range package holiday trade; rooms were small, the en-suite shower rooms a tight fit for one person, meals were poor and served buffet-style, and the staff were less than willing because guests seemed to think that a hundred-peseta tip was generous.

Alvarez walked around a mound of luggage belonging to a departing group of guests and up to the reception desk, manned by a young man. ‘Are Señoritas Fenn and Glass in the hotel?'

‘How would I know?' replied the receptionist, his attention on a young woman in a bikini who was crossing the foyer to go out to the beach.

‘By checking.'

‘Too busy.'

‘Cuerpo General de Policia.'

He reluctantly looked at the register, then up at the key board. ‘Their key's not there, so they'll be around somewhere.'

‘Then ask someone to find out where.'

The receptionist muttered sullenly to himself, opened a door to the rear of the counter, and shouted. A teenager appeared and was given the order.

‘Is there a lounge where I can have a word with them?' Alvarez asked.

The receptionist pointed.

He walked across the foyer and into a small room, depressingly decorated and furnished. If the declared aim of upgrading all hotels on the island was ever actually implemented, he thought, this one was a prime candidate for immediate attention. He sat on a shabby settee and waited with the endless patience of a peasant.

A woman entered and looked uncertainly at him. ‘I am Inspector Alvarez,' he said. She was hardly a model of discretion; her hair was too blonde, her make-up too generous, her dress too tight-fitting. ‘You are Señorita Glass or Señorita Fenn?'

‘Cara. I mean, Cara Fenn. Kirsty's gone with Bert to speak to the police again. I couldn't go because … because it's all too emotional.'

Couldn't be bothered, he thought uncharitably. He waited until she was seated, then said: ‘I have to ask you some questions, but will be as brief as possible.'

‘Then you haven't found Neil?'

‘I fear not.'

‘He … he's dead?'

‘There still can be no certainty and that is why I am here now.'

‘But I don't know where he is.'

‘Of course not, but you may be able to help me ascertain where he might be if still alive … Have you known the señor for a long time?'

She shook her head.

‘When did you first meet him?'

‘That night.'

‘You mean, Thursday?'

‘Yes.'

‘Please tell me how you met him.'

She and Kirsty had had supper – like always, funny tasting and not what they were used to at home – and had then left the hotel to go to the front. They'd strolled along until they'd stopped to watch a woman in a long white dress and with whitened face and gloved hands who had been imitating a statue and moving only when someone put money in the collecting box. Neil had set out to make the woman laugh and had drawn them into his attempt; he'd suggested drinks at one of the bars; after a while, he'd said it was such a lovely night they ought to go for a trip in his boat …

‘The boat belonged to him?'

‘Seemed like it did. I mean, he had the key to unlock the cabin and start the engine.'

‘You sailed across the bay?'

She nodded. Then she said: ‘If only we'd stayed. Then it wouldn't have happened. I can't stop thinking that if only I'd said I didn't want to go, he'd be alive.'

He was satisfied she spoke only for effect. ‘Señorita, sadly one can never move back in time and it only makes things more painful to try and do so. What happened once you'd anchored?'

‘We had a drink.'

‘You'd taken this with you?'

‘There were a couple of bottles of whisky on the boat.'

‘Were they full bottles?'

‘One of 'em was, the other didn't have much in it.'

‘Did you finish them both?'

‘Give over.'

‘Then how much did you all drink?'

‘Hardly had any out of the full bottle … Look, I'm not a lush.'

‘Of course not, señorita, but I need to understand what state you and your companions were in because that could be very important.'

‘I was cheerful, nothing more.'

‘And Señor Lewis?'

‘We was all the same.'

‘Did you do anything other than drink?'

‘What's that matter?'

‘As I explained, I need to understand all the circumstances which surround the señor's disappearance.'

She said nothing.

‘Señorita, you must tell me.'

‘I … We … You know how it goes.'

‘Not until you tell me.'

‘We started to have some fun,' she said reluctantly.

‘You mean, you had sexual intercourse?'

‘There's no call to be crude … A girl's entitled to a little fun.'

‘With one señor, or both?'

‘For God's sake, what d'you take me for?'

He was tempted to answer, but didn't.

‘If you must know, nothing happened.'

‘Why was that?'

‘Because it didn't.'

‘The señor had drunk too much?'

‘If he'd been that tight, I wouldn't have had anything to do with him. I can't stand drunks.'

‘Yet if he wasn't … Why did nothing happen?'

‘Because we both fell asleep,' she said angrily, certain he must be laughing at her.

Surprise, not contemptuous amusement, was his reaction. It seemed the English did not live up to their reputation. ‘Señorita, I have to tell you that what you've said suggests the señor had drunk very much more than you wish to admit.'

‘I'm not a liar.'

‘But it is very difficult to believe that if sober, he would have fallen asleep at such a moment.'

‘I don't care how difficult, that's how it went.'

‘Was Señor Lewis a good swimmer?'

‘He said he was. Talked about winning medals when he was younger, but like as not that was flannel to try to impress us.'

‘When you and your friends awoke in the morning, you found his clothes were still aboard?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Did he have a bathing costume with him?'

‘I never saw one.'

He was about to speak again when a young woman looked into the lounge, saw Cara, stepped inside. ‘Everything all right?' she asked.

‘No, it bloody well isn't,' Cara answered.

‘What's wrong?'

‘He's trying to call me a liar.'

The answer confused her.

‘Are you Señorita Glass?' Alvarez asked.

She nodded.

Whenever two women went around together, it always seemed that one was more obviously attractive than the other. Even a Frenchman would not have described Kirsty as more than pleasant looking. ‘I am Inspector Alvarez.'

Kirsty said: ‘We've just been to see the police again and they don't know anything. Do you?'

‘I very much regret not, señorita. Which is why I am here to try and discover what might have happened to the señor.'

‘By asking bloody rude questions,' Cara said resentfully.

He turned. ‘I am sorry, señorita, if I have disturbed you, but there are times when a detective has to be rather like a doctor…'

‘And most of them are dirty old men!'

Kirsty looked worried, afraid that Alvarez would take sharp offence.

He said quietly: ‘Señorita Glass, please come and sit down so that I can discover if you can help me.'

As Kirsty moved forward, Cara said: ‘I've told you all I know, so there's no point in me staying.'

‘That is so. But first, how much longer are you staying here?'

‘A week.' She hesitated, but when nothing more was said, she stood and left, hips swinging.

He spoke to Kirsty: ‘Tell me as much as you can remember of Thursday night.'

Her description of the evening was considerably more detailed than Cara's had been and she showed no embarrassment when describing the more intimate moments.

Her manner reminded him of the old saying, The fastest running torrente is not always the deepest. ‘Señorita, am I correct to believe you did not drink as much as the others?'

‘I've a bit of a funny tummy and it's very easily upset, so I have to be careful.'

‘Yet perhaps you had drunk rather more than you think since you were ill on Friday morning?'

‘Not half as ill as the other two. And I do remember exactly how much I had.'

‘Then you must be surprised that you were so affected?'

‘In a way, I suppose so. But maybe booze is just grabbing me more than it used to.'

‘Are you certain that the first bottle of whisky was emptied before the second one was opened?'

‘Yes. Wouldn't you expect it to be?'

He nodded. ‘Was Señor Lewis drunk by the time he opened the second one?'

‘No way. He was full of himself, suggesting all sorts of things, but that seemed to be his style.'

‘His speech wasn't slurred or his movements uncoordinated?'

‘If you ask me, at that stage they were very coordinated.' She began to giggle, then stopped abruptly. ‘I shouldn't say things like that, should I, in case he is dead?'

‘Señorita, it seems very likely he would prefer to be remembered with a laugh … Was Señor Sheard drunk?'

‘He was like Neil, still talking normal and all that sort of thing. Only he wasn't able to…'

Alvarez waited. Finally, he said: ‘Tell me again what happened after Señor Lewis opened the second bottle.'

For a moment it seemed she might question the need for the repetition, then she spoke quickly and, as before, without any trace of embarrassment. Sheard had drunk his whisky quickly, she'd sipped hers. Cara and Lewis, on the starboard settee, had started to explore each other's attractions and so they'd done the same. Sheard had yawned as he'd fondled her and become annoyed when she'd laughed. Then, as he took off his trousers and pants, he'd suddenly complained of dizziness; that was when she'd also first felt a bit dizzy. He'd tried to show further interest in her, but failed. To her surprise, and it had to be admitted annoyance, he'd fallen asleep. She'd looked across the cabin to see if the other two were laughing at her, but they were both asleep. Then she'd felt overwhelmingly tired and she'd fallen asleep.

‘The last drink was from the second bottle?'

‘That's right.'

‘And Señor Lewis opened it. Will you describe how he opened it?'

‘What d'you mean? There's only one way, isn't there?'

‘If it was a full bottle, the cap should have been sealed. Did he have to exert force to break the seal?'

‘He must have done.'

‘What I'm asking,' he said patiently, ‘is whether you can recall his having to use such force? The cap can be sealed so firmly that it's quite a struggle to free it.'

‘I see what you mean … As I remember, he just unscrewed. What's it matter?'

‘I'm not sure that it does,' he answered casually. ‘Presumably, Señor Lewis poured out a drink for himself as well as for the rest of you?'

‘He's not the one to forget himself.'

He was silent for a few seconds, then said: ‘You woke up yesterday morning, discovered the señor was missing and decided to return to the port to find out if he had been playing a silly joke; if not, to report his disappearance. Do you by any chance remember what happened to the second bottle of whisky?'

‘Not really.'

‘I have just one more question. From the moment you fell asleep on the boat to the time when you woke up, can you remember anything at all?'

‘No.' She began to fiddle with the hem of her T-shirt. ‘That is…'

He said nothing.

‘It sounds so silly.'

‘I assure you I will not find it so.'

‘It's just … I seem to remember thinking I could hear someone moving around. I don't know why, but this had me so scared that I was desperate to escape, only I couldn't move and it was as if I'd been paralysed. Then the sounds stopped and things went all black again. When I told Cara about this, she said it was a stupid nightmare. I suppose it must have been. Only I can't stop wondering…' She paused, then spoke in a rush. ‘Wondering that maybe it was Neil I'd heard and if only I'd managed to wake up properly I could have tried to save him if he did fall over the side. But it was like I was in a dense fog…' She became silent, her expression strained.

‘Señorita, it is most likely that your friend is right and it was a nightmare.'

But a waking nightmare?

CHAPTER 5

The sign prohibited a left turn. Alvarez swore. Every time he drove around the port, the road system seemed to have been altered; planning was clearly in the hands of someone with an interest in the manufacture of road signs. He took the next left turn, then could find nowhere to park. He swore at greater length. Ten years before, this area had been fields over which birds had flown, now it was all concrete. When people lauded the benefits that tourism brought, did they also list the spiritual values that it took?… A car drew out, leaving a parking space and as he drew into this his mood immediately lightened.

He walked the short distance to the police station and went inside. The duty officer was an old acquaintance and so they chatted for several minutes before he said: ‘I need to talk to someone at the Institute of Forensic Anatomy; all right if I use your phone?'

‘Sure.'

He reached across for the phone on the desk, lifted the receiver, dialled. When the connection was made, he asked to speak to Professor Fortunato or one of his assistants.