A Question of Motive (12 page)

He waited.

‘I've been told the funeral can now take place.'

‘Will you be on your own?'

‘Luisa and Pablo will be with me.'

‘Good.'

‘I've arranged for a cremation.'

Something of which the average Mallorquin disapproved. Without a grave, how could one been seen regularly to lay flowers on it, showing the dead was not forgotten. He spoke carefully. ‘I think after the funeral you will be able to accept an end and this will afford some relief.'

‘Does it?'

‘I found it so.' A relief from harsh mental pain, but not from sorrow – that might never end.

‘Y
ou have carried out my orders?' Salas asked over the phone.

‘Yes, señor.'

‘But have not seen fit to make a report.'

‘There's been so much to do.'

‘Were I to accept your words without reservation, I could enjoy the picture of your working hard. Have you questioned Señorita Farren?'

‘At considerable length.'

‘You were able to overcome your sympathy for her emotional state?'

‘Yes.'

There was a silence.

‘Despite working so hard, you have learned nothing?'

‘On the contrary, I have learned several important facts.'

‘Am I to be permitted to learn what those are?'

‘The señorita gave me permission to open the señor's safe . . . Or should I say, the señorita's safe? The estate has been left to her, so I suppose the safe and its contents are now hers. I have read copies of his will – one is in English, one is in Spanish.'

‘Did you compare them to make certain the details are similar?'

‘Yes.'

‘What are the main details?'

‘As I have mentioned, the señorita is left the estate, subject to certain legacies. I have made a rough estimate of the capital. The total is very nearly two million pounds, the jewellery is insured for seventy-five thousand. Then there's the house and land. I suppose that would be worth close on another million euros to someone who does not suffer from altophobia.'

‘Who can control his own mind. The will clearly provides the motive for murder and potential identification of the prime suspect.'

‘Are you suggesting Señorita Farren again? That is . . .' He stopped.

‘You wish to complete your sentence?'

‘It is the possibility, señor, which is unlikely. In no circumstances would I refer to a decision of yours as ridiculous.'

‘You have not previously done so?'

‘The legacies provide fifteen hundred pounds for three of the staff, a thousand for the fourth. The question raised is, could these relatively small sums provoke murder? On the face of things, almost certainly not. And how could any member of the staff know the details of the will when it was in the safe? Yet the keys were easily accessible.'

‘My understanding of what you have said is that they might or they might not, which has the benefit of being a logical, if useless, conclusion.'

‘The keys of the safe were left in a drawer of the desk in the library. A member of the staff might well have discovered them there, opened the safe, and read the will. Which raised further questions. Would not he, or she, also have stolen something from the contents? Cash or a little jewellery. Again, why would the thief be such a fool as to imagine he, or she, could sell something of such quality without drawing attention to himself or herself? Would the risk of discovery not militate against theft since that would ensure the loss of the legacy.'

‘Have you concluded your summary of probabilities, possibilities, and impossibilities?'

‘Yes, señor.'

‘I am grateful.'

‘There is a further bequest of ten thousand pounds to Miranda Pearson. This raises the question . . .'

‘Restrict yourself to answers.'

‘Señorita Farren has never heard the señora's name mentioned. I think it probable she is an old friend and the gift was for services rendered.'

‘You consider friendship to be a service?'

‘Very close friends.'

‘There is significance in the addition?'

‘Señor, one does not leave a large sum of money to a woman who is unknown to the family unless there has been a close relationship which is remembered with pleasure or reproachful guilt.'

‘And which would you choose?'

‘Perhaps both.'

‘Naturally. My friend, the eminent psychiatrist, will be interested in this latest evidence of satyriasis.'

‘I have learned that there exist motives for murder other than money, although one of them is concerned with money.'

‘It might add verisimilitude to your report if you do not continually contradict yourself. Either what you are about to say is concerned with money, or it is not.'

‘In amongst the papers in the safe was an IOU for ten thousand pounds, signed by Timothy Kiernan. If Kiernan has not been in a position to repay this considerable sum, he may have decided to cancel the debt physically.'

‘Leaving the IOU in the safe to inculpate himself?'

‘He may claim he repaid the debt, but Señor Gill had forgotten to destroy the IOU.'

‘Such claim can be rebutted by examining the bank balances of Señor Gill, as you will do.'

How many hours work would that involve? ‘Señor, the sum may have been paid in cash which was not put into a bank . . .'

‘No man in his right senses keeps thousands of pounds or euros in cash.'

‘You have not heard of Old Jacobo Martinez. He was a recluse.'

‘Then I am hardly likely to have heard of him.'

‘When he died, there were a hundred and forty thousand pesetas hidden in a box in his tumbledown caseta.'

‘One would expect an Englishman to have more intelligence than a Mallorquin peasant. And the payee would have demanded the IOU in order to destroy it.'

‘One should also consider whether it might be a hoax.'

‘What impossibility are you proposing now?'

‘As a joke, Señor Gill might have made out the IOU and signed it with the name of Kiernan, shown it to friends and complained he had not been repaid.'

‘Then his mind must be on a par with that of the man who can think up such a possibility.'

‘His niece described him as having a puckish sense of humour.'

‘Does she know what humour means?'

‘He was clearly an unusual man. And his character provides another possible motive for his death. Señorita Farren explained that he had a very strong aversion to fakes; things which were presented as what they were not . . .'

‘Such as inspectors?' Salas suggested.

‘People who tried to make out they were much grander than they were. There's an English couple, Phillips, who live in the area. Apparently, they present themselves as being very well connected, they inherited a large country property which they sold and explains their wealth, and because of their supposed superior background, do not like to acknowledge those they consider to be “little people”.'

‘Such traits distinguish them from many of their compatriots?'

‘Señor Gill was convinced they were frauds. And when they were very rude to his friends, he decided to find out if he was right. He hired a retired English detective to uncover their true background.

‘He learned the Phillipses were of plebeian ancestry and had not inherited a large country estate. He had made his money from pornography.'

‘Your interest is explained.'

‘Señor Gill had never intended the information to become known to others, but through no fault of his, it did. When the Phillipses understood they were being viewed with derision instead of envy, it must have been like a draught of poison. The cloak had been lifted to reveal them naked.'

‘You lack sufficient artistic talent to talk nonsense.'

‘Señor Phillips must have been determined to get his own back.'

‘You are presenting that as a motive for Señor Gill's murder?'

‘Yes, señor.'

‘Extremely weak.'

‘I disagree. Would you not feel so angry, you'd want to revenge yourself if someone was responsible for making it known that you had only been promoted superior chief because you had a powerful relative in the government and that you led a luxurious life because on the side, you ran a brothel?'

‘Your insolence has gone too far.'

‘I am merely trying to explain why I consider Phillips had sufficient reason to murder Señor Gill.'

‘Arrant hypocrisy.'

‘Surely no one in high authority would accept that a mere inspector would dare to make the false accusation that his senior would seek promotion by the back door or that he had ever stepped into a brothel, let alone run one? It is against all experience and common sense; a sparrow does not challenge an eagle.'

‘It pleases you to indulge in feather-brained stupidity?' Salas said, before ringing off.

Alvarez stepped into the entrada, determined to gird up his loins like a man. Unfortunately, he felt ungirded.

In the sitting room, Jaime sat at the table, bottle and glass in front of himself. Alvarez sat and brought a glass out of the sideboard. Something worried him until he realized no sounds came from the kitchen. ‘Isn't she here again?' He poured himself a drink.

‘Went out to buy something she needed. Wanted me to get it. Like I told her, shopping is a woman's job.'

‘You said it in those words?'

‘Maybe not exactly.'

‘Was she annoyed when I rang to say I couldn't get back to lunch?'

‘Kept on about feeding the dogs. I told her, it was me who wanted something to eat.'

‘What was the meal?'

‘Can't rightly remember . . . Why do you keep annoying her?' Jaime asked, with sudden anger. ‘Then it's me who gets it in the neck. I don't do this, I don't do that. Women can't understand a man needs to rest when he gets back worn out from work.'

Alvarez produced a packet of Ducados and offered it.

‘They're the best you could get?'

‘The best I could afford, not being a politician on the fiddle.'

Jaime drew a cigarette out of the pack. As he struck a match and held it out for Alvarez, he heard the front door open. He hurriedly refilled his glass with his free hand.

Dolores came through from the entrada. She spoke to Alvarez. ‘We are to have the pleasure of your company at supper?'

‘I'm sorry about lunch . . .'

‘Was it the President of the Commission who could not be denied your presence at lunch?' She swept into the kitchen and banged a saucepan to express her feelings.

‘She's in another mood because of you,' Jaime muttered.

Alvarez wondered if sweet words might lessen her annoyance? He went through to the kitchen. ‘I'm very sorry, but I didn't know what I should do.'

‘Even when a man does, he doesn't do it.' She began to shell peas.

‘Naturally I wanted to return, but I felt I had to stay and give what little help I could.'

‘She needed her back covered in suntan cream?'

‘Who do you think I was with?'

‘A young woman, probably English or French, insufficiently experienced to realize that the interest of a much older man is not paternal in nature.'

‘I was with Mary Farren at Aquila. I had to question her again which made her very depressed. I felt guilty because of this and when she asked me to stay, I decided I simply had to provide what comfort I could. There are times when one has to sacrifice oneself.'

‘Why did you not explain when you phoned me?'

‘She would have heard what I said. Had she known I was staying against my wish, was doing so only for her sake, she would have become even more depressed.'

She began to fine-chop three teeth of garlic.

‘Would you have had me desert her at such a time?'

‘You ask a foolish question. Did she offer you food?'

‘Yes.'

‘Was it a reasonable meal?'

‘Sadly, I had to eat a Chinese takeaway.'

She carefully added the garlic to the contents of an earthenware pot. ‘I have heard there are such things for foreigners.'

‘Mallorquins eat them.'

‘In preference to a meal cooked at home?'

‘Not everyone is so dedicated to the family as you are.'

‘Perhaps. But then I was brought up to believe, mistakenly, that a woman's pleasure was to ensure the family was content. Of course, in those days there were men who still understood the meaning of gratitude.'

‘Jaime and I can't sufficiently express our gratitude for all you do for us.'

‘Which is, perhaps, why you never do.' She lowered the gas under the pot. ‘You enjoyed this meal?'

‘How could I when I was missing the meal cooked by you. Perhaps supper will compensate me?'

‘It is nothing special. But maybe for lunch tomorrow, I will cook Ternera a la Jardinera.'

Veal, stock, ham, shallots, carrots, potatoes, peas and spices. On paper, a mere recipe, in truth, a gourmet's dream. He expressed his delight at the prospect. He returned to the sitting room, picked up his glass and drank. In the kitchen, Dolores began to sing about a young woman whose young man had returned from afar and finally made his feelings known.

‘She's calmed right down as you can hear. It's thanks to what I told her,' Alvarez said.

‘You wouldn't need to say anything if you came back here when you should,' Jaime said ill-temperedly.

The gateway might have been guarding a castle rather than a very large, modern house of little visual charm; the garden was extensive, but too well manicured and a waste of land since only flowers and shrubs were grown; the infinity swimming pool seemed almost of an infinite size; in front of the garage was a Jaguar, and visible inside, a Volvo. At least there was no helicopter landing pad.

Alvarez climbed the four tiled steps, stepped into the pillared patio and activated the bell push to the right of the panelled wooden front door. This was opened by a man in his late thirties who wore the traditional white shirt and dark trousers of service. He studied Alvarez, noted the well-worn clothing, the unshaven chin, and his expression pictured the contempt a servant in a rich home often had for a member of the proletariat. ‘Yes?'