The Ambiguity of Murder (17 page)

‘Which, if you're right, he will have done, thanks to your inefficiency.'

‘It took time to establish the facts…'

‘Naturally, since it was you who was establishing them.'

‘I think now we must ask the Bolivian embassy in London to confirm or deny the possibility of a homosexual relationship between the two men…'

‘Any such request will be made in your name.'

‘We should also ask if Algaro is still in their employ – unlikely, considering the time he must have spent on the island, planning the murder – and if not, what can they tell us about his history and do they have a current address in Bolivia?'

‘Is that all?'

‘For the moment, señor.'

‘Then clearly it has not occurred to you that you are turning assumption into an art form.'

‘I don't quite understand. Surely if Señor Zavala was murdered, the guilty man is far more likely to have been someone of Algaro's character than the three we have previously considered as possible suspects?'

‘You refer to Algaro's character. Since you admit to having no proof of what that is, you assume. Yet is there a scrap of evidence to negate the possibility that your assumption is rank nonsense? What is there to deny that far from coming from the slums of La Paz, he was born into a family in Santa Cruz well connected in the tin export trade?'

‘If so, why would he have been merely a chauffeur at the embassy?'

‘It is the mark of muddled thinking to concentrate on irrelevances … In a typically blinkered manner, you have failed to do what any efficient investigator does, that is to pursue all possibilities until certain which is of no account. Incredibly, you still cannot confirm whether, or not, Zavala was murdered. There are three men on the island who had a motive for his death, yet you cannot name which motive has the greatest relevance.'

‘I have been continuing my investigations…'

‘Efficiently? Then you can at least now tell me whether any of the three has an alibi which proves beyond doubt that he cannot have murdered Zavala?'

There was a long pause.

‘Señor,' Alvarez ventured, ‘there has been a great deal of ground which has had to be covered…'

‘Are you admitting that you have not yet even taken the elementary step of checking the alibis to determine their values?'

Another silence.

‘If you feel your abilities have been overtaken by time and progress and you should retire; I shall not dissuade you.' Salas cut the connection.

CHAPTER 19

As Alvarez came to a stop to the side of the lean-to garage of Ca'n Liodre, Fenella, who had been weeding a bed of petunias, stood upright. He stepped out on to the concrete and looked down. ‘Good morning, señora.'

‘Good morning.' She dropped the hand fork on to the gama grass which surrounded the flower bed, crossed to the steps and climbed these up to the patio. ‘Is this a social visit?'

‘Unfortunately, not exactly.'

‘But that won't prevent your having some coffee?'

‘Indeed not.'

‘Then sit down while I go inside and make it. Harry's in the village, but he'll be back at any moment.' She went indoors.

He did not immediately sit, but stared above the orange grove at the thin sliver of light which marked as much of the bay as was visible and at the mountains which backed it. There was beauty wherever one went except where it had not had the strength to defy the effect of man's greed.

He sat on one of the patio chairs. It was possible to make out some of the fruit on the nearest orange trees because the sunlight cast shadow which provided shape. In six months, the golden crop would be harvested. Only someone who had eaten an orange newly plucked from a tree enjoyed the true flavour. The ground about the trees had recently been cultivated to destroy weeds. So much land was now being neglected, even if there was enough water to irrigate, because it had become uneconomic to cultivate it. Were he to win El Gordo, he'd buy an estate and run it as it had once been run, every metre of land under cultivation, even if that cost money. It was one of the ironies of life that now one often needed to be wealthy to do what in the past had been done by the poor.

As Fenella returned to the patio, a tray in her hands, the green Astra shooting brake turned the corner of the dirt track to come into sight. ‘For once my husband's on time!' she said, as she put the tray down on the table. ‘I'll get another mug. I do hope you don't mind a mug?'

He was amused by evidence of yet one more strange habit of the English. What did it matter what anything was served in since it was the contents which were important?

Bailey drove into the garage. A moment later, he walked out and crossed to the table. ‘I thought I recognized the car. So how are things going?'

‘I think one has to say, slowly, señor.'

‘Very appropriate to the climate! I see Fenella's providing coffee, but as yet there is no brandy chaser. Would you like one?'

‘Thank you, yes.'

‘Shan't be a moment.' He went into the house.

Alvarez allowed the pleasure of relaxation to overcome him to the degree that he was almost asleep when he heard them return.

When the coffee and brandy had been poured out and passed around, Bailey said: ‘How can we help you this time?'

‘I have to establish one or two facts, señor. The señora is your second wife?'

‘Yes.'

Alvarez turned. ‘And have you, señora, been married before?'

‘What the hell business of yours is that?' Bailey demanded with sudden anger.

‘Harry,' she said, ‘you know what it's like in this country – apply for a driving licence and they want to know all your great- grandfathers' Christian names.' She turned to face Alvarez. ‘My first husband suffered from a serious illness and died not long before I married and came out here to live.'

‘Thank you, señora. Señor, before you came to the island, were you convicted of a serious driving offence which resulted in your being sent to jail?'

Bailey's expression showed the shock the question brought. ‘Does the past never bury its dead?' he said bitterly.

‘Harry,' Fenella murmured as she reached across and put one hand on his. She swung her head round to face Alvarez. ‘And if he was? People lied. He should never have been convicted.'

Such loyalty, at the same time defensive and challenging, was only given when a similar loyalty was received. Alvarez knew brief envy – two people who shared strong love possessed a rare prize. ‘Señora, the report I read made it clear that if the driver of the Jaguar had been allowed to be questioned, it is unlikely your husband would have been found guilty of more than driving when he had drunk slightly more than the legal limit. The driver of the Jaguar was Rojas Algaro. Señor Zavala was Minister Counsellor for Internal Affairs at the embassy, and it was he who was responsible for Algaro's being provided with diplomatic immunity. When you were at the cocktail party on the second of this month and were introduced to Señor Zavala, no doubt you both failed to realize the part he had played in your lives. But then he boasted about his diplomatic career and you suddenly identified him as the Zavala who had enabled the chauffeur to remain silent. That knowledge was so disturbing that you left the party immediately, without bothering to thank your hostess or explain the reason for your very early departure.'

‘Why keep raking up the past?'

‘When a man dies in circumstances sufficiently ambiguous to make it uncertain whether his death was accidental or murder, it is necessary to find out if anyone has a motive for his death. If someone did, then it becomes more likely the death was murder, not accident.'

‘Are you trying to say that what happened makes for a motive?'

‘Only love is sweeter than revenge.'

‘You obviously can't understand people.'

‘Steady on,' Bailey said.

‘I won't. He's got to understand.' She stared intently at Alvarez. ‘Harry hates violence and after that dreadful incident when the child was killed, he was physically sick because he could not stop reliving the awful moment when the body brushed his car. Yes, at Dolly's party it was a terrible shock to discover we were talking to the man who was responsible for that ghastly jail sentence; but when we got home, Harry wasn't wild with hatred, he just sat in a chair, remembering, and looking so shattered I wanted to cry … He believes that in the end life always evens things up so it's wrong to try to gain revenge. Of course he wished Guido Zavala to hell, but he would never, could never, do anything to help him there. It's utterly ridiculous to think he could have murdered the little rat.'

‘His car was seen leaving Son Fuyell that night.'

‘No, it wasn't because it couldn't have been. You admitted last time that you couldn't be certain it was his.'

‘I think I said I couldn't prove it was. But now, in the circumstances…'

‘Damn the circumstances. They're wrong.'

‘I very much hope so, señora.'

About to say something more, she checked the words. She looked puzzled. ‘You sounded as if you really meant that,' she finally said.

‘It may sound presumptuous of me, but when I meet two persons like your husband and yourself, it is always my hope that I need never cause either any distress.'

‘You're an unusual detective,' Bailey said.

‘I accept that as a compliment.'

‘As it was meant. You've reassured me that you can understand my wife's somewhat heated defence wasn't intentionally rude.'

‘Of course. And for my part, I hope you will understand that I do have to ask you more questions.'

‘I can only echo your “of course”.'

‘Where were you on the evening of the second of this month?'

‘He's told you time and again,' Fenella snapped.

‘And now I'm going to tell him again,' Bailey said calmly. ‘We try never to go out twice on the same day, so having been to Dolly's cocktail party, we were both here, at home.'

‘All evening?'

‘From when we returned at lunchtime to when we went to bed.'

‘Can you prove that that was so?'

‘I don't recall anyone's calling to see us, so the answer has to be, no, I can't.'

‘Might there have been someone working in the field who could have seen you?' Alvarez indicated the orange grove.

‘I've no idea.'

‘No one phoned you during the evening?'

‘I can't think of anyone who did.'

Fenella said: ‘Wendy did.'

‘Did she?' Bailey said in surprise. ‘Are you sure it was that evening?'

‘Yes, because she wanted to know what we thought of Dolly's party and why we'd left early. She asked if you thought the smoked salmon had gone off.'

‘Of course! I'd forgotten. Wendy at her most tactless.'

‘When did your friend make this call?' Alvarez asked.

‘I don't know I can say.' He turned to his wife. ‘Have you any ideas?'

‘I was gardening, so it was before supper. When did we eat, then? It'll have been before nine.'

‘Do you think your friend might be able to be more accurate?' Alvarez asked.

‘I suppose it's possible. Parts of Wendy's life are ordered.'

‘Perhaps you will give me her name and address?'

Bailey fiddled with his glass. ‘This isn't the sort of thing one likes to drag one's friends into.'

‘Señor, if she can confirm that the phone call was made within a certain time period, I will know you could not have been at Son Fuyell when Señor Zavala died.'

‘Despite the very strong motive and your belief it was my car which was seen?'

‘No one can be in two places at once.'

‘It's fortunate that our lives aren't governed by quantum mechanics since then supposedly that would be possible … Wendy Easton, and she lives in the urbanizacíon halfway down to the puerto … What's the name of her place?'

‘Casa Blanca,' Fenella replied.

‘Typical!'

*   *   *

Alvarez did not understand Bailey's comment until he saw that the house was painted pink. It was a small bungalow and at the foot of the hill so that it lacked any view. Wendy was a generously proportioned woman who suffered the social disadvantage of saying what she thought.

‘Why?' she demanded as she stood in the doorway.

A woman of her size, Alvarez thought, really should have the tact not to wear trousers. ‘I am carrying out an investigation…'

‘So you said. What I'm asking is, how can you be so confused as to imagine Harry knows anything?'

‘I have to investigate the possibility even if I think it unlikely.'

‘Chasing shadows. I suppose you want a drink?'

The abrupt change of conversation, and the aggressive manner in which the question had been put, confused him.

‘Do you or don't you?'

‘It's not necessary…'

‘A Mallorquin who has to have his arm twisted before he has a drink? What's the next miracle? A plumber who turns up in less than a month?… Are you going to go on standing there?'

Bewildered, he moved forward and she stepped aside there would not have been room for him to enter had she not done so.

‘In there.'

It had been more command than direction. The sitting room was overcrowded with furniture and on one wall was the framed photograph of a man standing by a pony, a polo stick in his hand. Her husband? Army? Had the troops had more cause to beware of her than him?

‘What d'you drink? If I haven't got it, you can't have it.'

He asked for a brandy.

She left, to return with a tray on which were bottles, glasses, and a bowl of ice cubes. He watched her pour out two very generous brandies. Most people had their good points to counter their bad ones.