Death Trick (13 page)

He drove out of Llueso on to the Puerto Llueso road and down that to the dirt track which gave access to Ca’n Tardich.

The house and its setting were looking exceedingly attractive in the morning sunshine and as he left the car he experienced a rare sense of optimism. Perhaps luck was finally about to reward him and he’d be able to buy a property such as this one? Happy the man who, before he died, could run his fingers through rich soil and know it was his . . .

Beatriz opened the front door.

”Morning,’ he said, with unusual cheerfulness. ‘I’ve just come along to have another look through the house.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ she answered uncertainly.

‘With the señor back, I don’t think I ought to let you in without him saying it’s all right and he’s out at the moment.’

‘What?’ shouted Salas.

Alvarez stared gloomily at the top of his desk. ‘It seems, señor, that he is, after all, alive.’

There was a very long pause. ‘I just do not believe this can be happening to me.’

‘I haven’t had a chance to question him yet, because he was out when I went to his house. But the maid says that he’s reported his car as stolen from the airport car park, so perhaps we ought to tell Traffic . . .’

‘How long is it since you assured me he had been murdered?’

‘I know, only . . .’

‘Yet now you tell me he has not been murdered.’

‘Señor, it has been very difficult. If you could look at things from my point of view . . .’

‘Only by standing on my head.’

‘All the evidence did point to the fact . . .’

‘You’re surely not suggesting that at any time in this case you have bothered about anything so mundane as the evidence?’

‘Señor . . .’

‘First you tell me he is a suspect in the murder of Roig.’

‘Yes, but . . .’

‘And without once pausing to make certain you have considered all the relevant facts, you contact England and ask them to conduct a search for him.’

‘That’s not exactly right. It was you who . . .’

‘Having done that, you decided he had not murdered Roig and fled the island, but had been murdered. So you had to get in touch with England and admit your mistake, making everyone here, and in particular yourself, look foolish. But that’s not the end of the matter. Things had become confused by most people’s standards, but not by yours and you are only happy when surrounded by total confusion. So you now announce to me that he wasn’t murdered, he’s alive and well. Which means you’re going to have to ring England yet again and explain that the man you said was alive, then dead, is alive again . . .’

Alvarez reached down with his free hand and pulled open the bottom right-hand drawer of the desk. To his consternation, he saw that it contained only a glass and a couple of dusty files. He’d forgotten to replace the bottle of brandy.

He parked on one side of the gnarled olive tree in front of Ca’n Tardich; on the other side was a Seat Panda, it’s right-hand rear window displaying the forms which marked it as a hire car. He crossed to the front door and rang the bell.

Oakley was taller than he, but considerably thinner—a man who either exercised regularly or took care not to eat too generously. He had a round face, with eyes set high, full cheeks, and a generous mouth that looked as if about to break into a grin; his hair was a medium brown, held a very slight curl at the front, and was clearly thinning on top. He wore a safari shirt and cotton trousers, both well pressed, and his leather sandals were well polished. ‘Good morning,’ he said in Spanish.

Alvarez introduced himself in English.

Oakley smiled. ‘Then this must be the quickest slice of action the island’s ever seen!’

‘I’m sorry, señor, I don’t understand.’

‘It’s no time at all since I reported my car had been stolen from the airport.’

‘I haven’t come about that.’

‘Not?’

‘Your car is in Palma, with the Traffic department. It is quite undamaged and was never stolen. I ordered Traffic to drive it from the airport to their workshops to examine it.’

‘Why on earth do that?’

‘Hasn’t Beatriz explained to you what has been happening?’

‘She did try to tell me something after she’d got over treating me as a ghost, but I was in a hurry so I’m afraid I cut her short. So what’s been going on which seems to have excited so many people?’

‘We believed you to be dead.’

‘I’m happy to echo Twain and say that the reports were exaggerated . . . Why did anyone think that?’

‘It’s quite a long story.’

‘Then let’s go through and sit and have a drink while you tell it; I find that long stories heard standing up and dry tend to become tedious.’

They went through the house and out on to the vine-covered patio. ‘What would you like?’ asked Oakley. ‘I can offer all the usual drinks, plus one or two minor exotics.’

‘May I have a coñac, please, with ice.’

When Oakley returned, he passed one glass across, sat, raised his own. ‘The first today, but not the last, if God grants me a fine repast. A toast which suggests a touch of gluttony, but for my money that’s by far the least of the deadly sins . . . Now, that long story—edited, perhaps?’

Alvarez gave him a resume of the facts.

‘It seems life on the island isn’t as sleepy as I’ve always assumed it to be. Poor old Pablo!’

‘You didn’t know he’d been murdered?’

‘How could I? I’ve not read a local paper since the day I left and, with all due respect to Pablo’s memory, his death isn’t an international event. Obviously, this was what Bea-triz was trying to tell me—she rather tends to wallow in disasters.’

‘You’ll forgive me for saying so, señor, but you don’t sound very upset by his murder.’

‘I’m surprised, in a sense shocked, but not emotionally upset, if that answers you?’

‘Are you saying that you didn’t like him?’

‘To be honest, I neither liked nor disliked him.’

‘Your relationship, then, was purely a business one?’

‘That’s right. Do you know who murdered him?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Then presumably you’re now trying to decide whether I might have done?’

‘I naturally have to examine all possibilities.’

‘And, to pin you down, I am a possibility?’

‘Señor, until I know all the facts, I have to accept that any one of several people might have killed him.’

‘What brings me within this uncharmed circle? Simply the fact that we did business together? I don’t think so, because if you included his legal work, that qualification unqualified would provide you with an embarrassment of suspects. When was he murdered?’

‘On the night of the eighth.’

‘That’s Monday of last week, isn’t it? The day I went over and saw him in his country place. So presumably that’s the real reason why I’ve become a suspect?’

‘I understand that while you were there, you had a heated row with him?’

‘Overheard by his daily? In fact, that’s not a strictly accurate description. He became heated, but I remained cool.’

‘What was the row about?’

‘You will keep everything I tell you confidential?’

‘Unless the needs of the case demand otherwise.’

‘Is that a polite way of saying, unless you decide to charge me with the murder? Since I didn’t kill him, I hope there’s no fear of that. I represent an investment company . . .’

‘Ashley Developments, registered in the Cayman Islands?’

Oakley whistled. ‘You’ve been doing your homework to some purpose! Yes, that’s right. Well, cutting things short, I decided some little time ago that there was still scope for a good investment in an up-market development close to Palma. So we formed a Spanish company to buy the land and appointed Roig as the legal adviser. Between you and me, I knew enough about him to reckon that if anyone could get planning permission, he would. He did. So the development was started and it proved convenient to channel much of the early financing through him.

‘Then, things started to go wrong and the banks, who’d been brought in as investors, began to make unpleasant noises. I hurried back here and checked things and found that although costs had risen beyond our estimates—don’t they always?—and sales were not as good as we’d forecast, the financial shortfall couldn’t be explained unless someone was screwing the company. Some hard lucubration identified who that someone probably was and so I had a chat with Roig and hinted at what I suspected, in the hope that he’d see the advantages to himself of keeping things quiet and so would refund the money.

‘He didn’t. That meant that eventually I had to get very much tougher. I said I wanted another talk with him and he didn’t have any doubts what it would be about. He suggested meeting at his place in the country—presumably because there there was no fear of leaks.

‘When I saw him, I gave him all the facts quite bluntly and told him that his connection with the company was over and if he didn’t repay every last peseta within two weeks, the facts would be given to the police.’

‘What was his reaction?’

‘Highly emotional and embarrassing. There’s a lot to be said for the English stiff upper lip, even if we’re told that the repression of emotions . . . He confessed he was a compulsive gambler. He’d stolen in order to gamble and had lost everything and there was no way in which he could repay within the fortnight. He beseeched me not to tell the police and drew a vivid picture of the utter distress of his wife and daughters if he were sent to prison. He swore on every saint in the calendar—and some that probably aren’t —that if I’d give him more time, he’d repay everything. I explained that that was impossible. The banks had given the company a deadline and I was certain they’d stick to it and wouldn’t extend credit facilities because word had reached me that another property company reckoned La Portaña would be a very good buy at a reduced price, which the banks could offer after taking possession and adding their own profits on to the deal.’

‘How did he react when you told him it was impossible to give him longer than the fortnight?’

‘Very scared and acting angry to cover up that fact. He made a lot of silly threats and I laughed at him, which didn’t help matters.’

‘What kind of threats?’

‘If I went to the police, he’d see a friend who’d make certain that I’d wake up suddenly to discover that my head had just parted with my neck.’

‘You’re saying he threatened to have you killed?’

‘He was so scared he didn’t know what he was saying.’

Assuming that the facts were true, thought Alvarez, it was wrong contemptuously to dismiss the possibility of violent retribution. Roig had come from the humblest of backgrounds and had believed himself despised because of this. He had worked his way up the ladder of success to reach the top, a very wealthy man who, at least in his own eyes, had become highly respected and envied. Suddenly, he had been threatened with exposure as a common thief. He might well have been ready to take any step to prevent this happening. And as a solicitor, he must have come into contact with men to whom violence was a way of life; men who would accept a contract on anyone at the right price. But what he would not have realized was that in employing such a man he was putting himself at grave risk. To them, loyalty was a meaningless word. If he paid half the agreed price in advance—a normal condition—the would-be assassin might well deem it easier and safer to kill him and settle for that half, rather than to go ahead with the assassination in order to claim the other half. . .

‘Have you had a good journey?’

He started. ‘I am very sorry, señor; my mind was a long way away.’

Oakley chuckled. ‘I’d say, almost in the next galaxy.’

‘What did you do when he made this threat?’

‘What else was there to do but leave?’

‘What was the time then?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It was getting on, but I’ve no real idea.’

‘Was it dark?’

‘No.’

‘Did you come straight back here?’

‘That’s right. And spent several hours with the company’s figures, trying to find a way of preventing the banks foreclosing and getting a bargain.’

‘You must have resented what Roig had done?’

‘That’s too mild a word. But I was almost as angry with myself because I should have kept a much closer watch on the figures and realized what was happening much sooner, when the survival of the company couldn’t have been put at risk. The real trouble was, I’d trusted him too much because I’d reckoned that while he’d normally cut any corners he could, he’d never betray his own clients—perhaps on the analogy of the dog and its doorstep.’

‘Is there anyone who can verify that you were here, in the house, on the night of the murder?

‘No. You’ve only my word for it that I was . . . And from the look on your face, that is not quite sufficient.’

‘Señor, you left here very suddenly and unexpectedly on Tuesday.’

‘That’s quite right.’

‘Why was that?’

‘Because during the morning, I decided to chase a source of capital I’d identified, but not yet captured. Since time was all-important, I gathered up all my papers and took off at full speed; there just wasn’t the time to make any arrangements, such as leaving Beatriz her money.’

‘Did you catch the plane to Heathrow for which you bought a first-class ticket?’

‘That’s an odd question.’

‘Possibly, but I would like an answer.’

‘Frankly, I see no joy in paying the exorbitant price of a first-class ticket and then not using it; yes, I did fly.’

‘One of the first-class passengers who had booked, failed to turn up.’

‘They told me I’d taken the last seat, but I did notice there was an empty one on the flight. That’s very usual. You must know as well as I that businessmen on full fare tickets make several bookings and then use the one which best suits them.’

‘Do you think the cabin staff will remember you?’

‘I rather doubt it, when you think of all the different faces they see every time they fly.’

‘Have you any idea why I had your car driven from the airport to Traffic?’

‘How could I have?’

‘It was to discover whether there were any traces in it which might link you to the murder.’