Relatively Dangerous (18 page)

It was clearly a rhetorical question.

‘Because the money he made me helped to make certain I can live here just a little longer.’

He finally said goodbye and left. As he drove away, he felt both uplifted and saddened; uplifted because she had proved that there were still those who were untouched by avarice, saddened because she had shown that old age was a time when one had to search too hard to find compensation for living.

As Alvarez left his parked car and walked towards the nearer back door of Las Cinco Palmeras, something began to bother him. Only as he knocked on the door of the kitchen did he identify what that something was—the silence.

‘Who is it?’ Helen called out.

‘Enrique Alvarez, señora.’

‘Come on in.’

She was wearing damp, stained overalls over a T-shirt. ‘You don’t by any chance know anything about plumbing, do you?’

‘I regret not.’

‘I’ve been trying to make a tap work and can’t. Soon, I shall assault it with the biggest hammer I can find.’

‘But why are the builders not here? I saw Javier and he promised to start work just as soon as he could. I will go now and see him and tell him that if he doesn’t come immediately . . .’

She brushed some hair away from her forehead. ‘Don’t waste your time.’ Her tone was suddenly bitter.

‘I can promise you . . .’

‘He turned up and said he’d start the moment his bill was paid.’

‘But I thought . . .’

‘So did I. But Mike, the silly fool, never told me the truth because he was trying to protect me from the worry. Practically all the money Mike’s father gave him for the repairs .as paid out for the funeral.’

‘Oh!’ There was really nothing more he could find to say immediately. Then he struggled to reintroduce a note of optimism. ‘Perhaps if he spoke to one of the other and smaller builders, he could persuade them to do the work now, but wait to be paid until you are open and making money?’

‘Mike thought of that right away. He’s seen every local firm and not one of them will do it. The trouble seems to be, quite a few foreigners haven’t been paying their bills once their houses are finished because they’ve learned how slow the law moves and how difficult it is to recover a debt. One or two are even boasting about how clever they are in not paying—God, what I could do to them! . . . When you arrived, I was trying to see if I could do some of the work. I’ve discovered I can’t . . . Anyway, that’s enough of that.

What’s brought you here this time—not more trouble, please.’

‘I hope it won’t be that,’ he answered uncomfortably, ‘but I have to speak to the señor.’

‘He went off to see someone who might lend us the money in return for a stake in the restaurant. The trouble is, this person wants such a large stake. I suppose you can’t really blame him because it’s good business. But I’m always so stupid I hope people will help in the same way that I’d try to help them.’

He wished he had the money to offer and so drive away from her blue eyes the worry that filled them.

They heard the whine of the approaching Citroen van.

‘Go and sit out in the front,’ she said, making a determined attempt to lighten her mood, ‘and I’ll send Mike out with a drink.’

‘There’s no need for that.’

‘We’ve plenty of alcohol, if nothing else.’

He went through the restaurant and sat at the nearest table, in the shade of a palm tree. A couple of minutes later Taylor, a glass in each hand, came out. ‘What the hell is it this time?’ His manner suggested that the meeting with the possible backer had not been successful.

‘I have just returned from Corleon—did you know that that is where your father lived?’

‘I told you last time, I’d no idea where he was.’

‘With him lived a friend; a very beautiful young lady.’

‘He always did have good taste.’

‘The house and large yacht were bought in her name and so now are hers.’

‘That ought to help dry a few of her tears.’

‘But did you know that under his will, you are his sole beneficiary?’

‘How the hell could I?’

‘He must have discussed the matter with you.’

‘Maybe he must, but he bloody didn’t.’

‘Nevertheless, as his only child, you must have expected this?’

‘I expected nothing.’

‘Where are his assets?’

‘How would I know?’

‘You father must have told someone so that they could be distributed according to his will after his death.’

‘Like as not, he didn’t have any to worry about.’

‘Why do you say that? A man doesn’t usually spend all his money and so leave himself without any reserves.’

‘My old man didn’t know about “usually”. He subscribed to Barnum’s philosophy—there’s a sucker born every minute. So when he needed money, he went out and found a sucker.’

‘He gave you the money to buy this restaurant and to meet the cost of the original repairs?’

‘Where’s the problem? Obviously, he’d just found a sucker.’

‘In fact, he’d found at least three. He sold them Australian mining shares at five cents when they were probably only worth two.’

‘That’s my father.’

‘He bought them back at ten cents because by then they stood at around five dollars. He made about three million dollars.’

Taylor stared at Alvarez for several seconds, then laughed. ‘So the old bastard really did find El Dorado!’

‘Where do you think all that money is?’

‘The answer remains, I’ve no idea.’

‘Are you certain of that?’

‘What are you trying to get at?’ Taylor’s expression sharpened. ‘Last time you were here, you were talking about the possibility my father was poisoned.’

‘That is correct.’

‘Was he?’

‘The results of the post mortem aren’t yet through.’

‘But you’re behaving as if they were. You’re bloody wondering if I murdered him for the three million dollars, aren’t you?’

‘I have to investigate that possibility/

‘It hasn’t occurred to your sweeping intelligence that if I had, I wouldn’t now be tearing out my hair trying to find the money to pay the builders?’

‘Perhaps the safest way of concealing new wealth would be to give the appearance of remaining hard up.’

‘You’ve a mind like a bloody sewer. He was my father.’

‘Sadly, sons murder fathers. And as you have told me, the relationship between the two of you was less than close.’

They heard the sounds of Helen’s coming out of the restaurant and turned to watch her approach. ‘I wondered if you were ready for another drink?’

Taylor said bitterly: ‘Remember telling me what a wonderful man the Inspector was: so kind and thoughtful and not at all like a policeman?’

‘What on earth’s the matter?’

‘Your wonderfully kind and thoughtful inspector has just accused me of murdering my own father.’

‘No, señor, I did not say that,’ objected Alvarez quietly. ‘I said that I have to investigate the possibility that you did; if indeed he was murdered. That means establishing whether you had a motive—and you had. But in this, you are not alone. There are four other people who also had one.’

‘Who?’

‘The three whom he tricked out of a great deal of money and Señorita Benbury, who may well know where the fortune is held and is determined to get hold of it for herself.’

Alvarez was pouring himself a second brandy when the telephone rang. Juan said he’d answer it and ran out of the dining-room into the front room. Dolores said from the kitchen doorway: ‘When you’ve finished drinking, the meal’s ready.’

‘Give it a quarter of an hour,’ replied Jaime.

‘You are not going to eat?’

‘Of course I am. What . . .’

‘Then your drinking’s finished.’ She returned into the kitchen.

‘Women!’ he muttered, as he looked at his empty glass and the bottle. ‘I’ve a good mind to . . .’ He did not specify what. It wasn’t that he was afraid of incurring Dolores’s wrath—no Mallorquin husband could ever be so weak— but experience had taught him that her standards of cooking varied according to her humour and he greatly enjoyed his food.

Juan returned. ‘The call’s for you, Uncle.’

‘Who is it?’ asked Alvarez.

‘Someone who talks very fast.’

Off-hand, he couldn’t think of anyone who spoke particularly quickly.

He carried his glass through to the front room, drank just before he said: ‘Yes?’

‘This is Borne speaking.’

‘Who is it?’

‘I said, this is Comisario Borne.’

‘I’m sorry, Comisario. It’s just that my nephew—who isn’t really my nephew—said that the caller spoke very fast, not that it was you, and I was wondering who it could be and then you said Borne and I have a friend who’s name is rather like that, but he doesn’t live in Palma and you don’t sound like him and I was a bit confused.’

‘Clearly. I am ringing to inform you that a telex has just arrived from England. It reads: Re Steven Taylor stop Private investigator identified as Raymond Barton stop Retained on eighteenth April to investigate Steven Thompson who was described as fraudulently selling shares in Mallorca stop Through unidentified police contacts Barton finally identified Thompson as Steven Taylor stop Transmitted to client full details of Taylor’s criminal record and supposed death stop Client’s name Reading-Smith address Casa Resta Cala del Dia stop Hope it’s stair-rodding with you stop Ian Wallace . . . Do you understand the meaning of that last sentence?’

‘I think, señor, that Detective-Sergeant Wallace is hoping that it’s raining here because the weather in England is so bad.’

‘Were I his senior officer, I would point out that that is not a subject for an official message. Does the information assist you?’

‘To be frank, señor, I’m not quite certain. I’ll have to sit back and think about it.’

‘Then will you please do that. Have you received a report on the post mortem?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Has it occurred to you to point out to the Institute that the matter is of very considerable urgency?’

‘Yes. But I don’t think that that had much effect.’

‘You do realize, do you, that it is essential before any real progress can be made in this case to know for certain whether or not we are dealing with a murder?’

‘Yes, señor.’

‘Superior Chief Salas asked me this afternoon whether I thought you had yet grasped that fact. I had to reply that it was very difficult, if not impossible, to give a definite opinion.’

‘Señor, I have been doing my best.’

‘Possibly. Superior Chief Salas further remarked that most regretfully you always seem concerned more with irrelevancies than those matters which are pertinent.’

‘I’m afraid he doesn’t seem to understand that I like to get to know as much about the background of all the people in a case as possible.’

‘It is very seldom an advantage to undertake a disorganized approach. Concentrate, Inspector; concentrate on the points which matter and ignore those which do not.’

‘Yes, señor.’

Borne said a distant good night, rang off. Alvarez sighed as he replaced the receiver. Life was so simple for superiors. They demanded information and issued orders and then did not have to concern themselves about the means . . .

‘Enrique, are you coming?’ Dolores called out. ‘It’s getting cold.’

He drained the glass. He thought that he now understood why Reading-Smith had so readily admitted that he’d been conned into buying a second load of shares, when his character suggested his reaction would have been one of angry denial.

Alvarez rang the Institute of Forensic Pathology at midday and spoke to Professor Fortunato’s secretary.

‘As a matter of fact, Inspector, I was just about to get in touch with you to tell you that the post mortem has been completed and it is established—not that, of course, there was ever any real doubt—that actual death was due to injuries received in the crash. There are no obvious signs of poisoning and further and more detailed tests are to be carried out.’

Alvarez thanked the secretary, then rang the forensic laboratory.

‘In the sample listed “Corleon”, the content of all the capsules was correct; in the sample listed “deceased”, the content of two capsules was the poison colchicine.’

‘What exactly is that?’

‘It’s a vegetable poison which comes from the Meadow Saffron and is a cytotoxin, or cell poison. Each of the capsules contained approximately eight milligrammes of the poison, together with neutral binders, which is generally held to be a less than fatal dose for an adult in good health —not that one can ever be dogmatic on that score.’

‘Would it be easy to get hold of the stuff?’

‘Nothing easier, if you live somewhere where the plant grows wild. I was on holiday once and saw a field almost carpeted with them. I can remember looking at the colourful picture and wondering just how many people that one field could kill . . . Virtually every part of the plant contains colchicine, although the flowers, seeds, and corms contain the greatest concentration.’

‘How soon would it start to work after swallowing?’

‘Very difficult to say because that depends on so many variables—how long since the last meal, what did that consist of, how susceptible is the victim . . . But say between three and six hours after ingestion, remembering that any figure can be wrong.’

‘What are the symptoms?’

‘They’re very similar to those of arsenical poisoning, which is why it’s sometimes called vegetable arsenic. One’s throat and mouth begin to burn and there’s tremendous thirst, but when one goes to drink there’s considerable trouble in swallowing. Pretty soon, one’s suffering violent nausea and vomiting. These symptoms can last as long as twenty-four hours before the really serious ones start— agonizing colics, paralysis of the central nervous system, growing difficulty in breathing. It can take up to another twenty-four hours to die. So if you’ve someone you really dislike, feed him some!’

‘I just hope there’s no Meadow Saffron growing round our way.’

The assistant laughed. I can name another dozen plants just as deadly, or even more so. And actually, it’s got its good side as well as its bad. For quite a time now, tests have been carried out using therapeutic doses in some cases of arthritis and I believe there have been some very encouraging results.’