In Search of Murder--An Inspector Alvarez Mallorcan Mystery (15 page)

She looked across. ‘Your glass is empty. May I refill it?'

‘Thank you.'

They both stood, she to take his glass, he to hand it to her. Her brief expression of surprise indicated she had expected him, as a Mallorquin, to remain seated whilst she fetched and carried. Seen close to, her ear lobes were unusually large. An indication of emotional vulnerability. He returned to his seat, she carried out the glasses, soon returned with them refilled.

Having handed him his glass, she walked over to the window and stared out. ‘I fell in love with the port, the background, the beautiful bay, never more so than when occasionally there is a sea fret and the far mountains pierce it. I believe it's hell to do business with anyone here, but it did the trick for me. I became at peace, never forgetting him, but no longer cursing the young driver of the other car which skidded because of speed. Sam was gone, but he had given me times to be treasured.' She drank, put the glass down, stared into space.

Her thoughts must have been similar to his when Juana María had died. Why had it happened to her? Why had she not checked the last step so that the car missed her? Why did God suffer drunken drivers rather than the innocent?

Lynette Arcton resumed speaking. ‘I had to wake up in the real world and understand my life was going to have to be pretty basic. No more treats to relieve a bad day, wine at meals, a drink or two in the evening. I was faced with the problem all ex-pats do when they consider returning home. Where would I live? Property here has become difficult to sell and its value has fallen more than the equivalent would have in England. How would I gain a mortgage when one has to put down an ever-larger deposit, I was a widow, had none of the skills needed to get a well-paid job?

‘People were kind after Sam's death; they provided company when I needed it, invited me to their parties. At one, I met Neil. That he was there was a surprise since it was not a flashy party; that he didn't just nod the introduction and dismiss me from his mind surprised me even more. He chose to sit next to me for the meal and afterwards quietly, sympathetically asked me how I was getting on.

‘I may have had a little too much to drink because it was one of my down days and I needed soft useless sympathy. I told him I was going to have to return home, how I dreaded the coming weather, isolation, and indifference of others. He asked me why I had decided to return. Normally, I'd have given a neutral answer, but I told him why. He sympathised and said I'd be sure to find a way to stay on the island. A traditional assurance, meant to soothe, but always irritating.

‘The next Tuesday, he called at my place, handed me a sealed envelope, said he couldn't stay but hoped we'd meet again soon. In the envelope was a receipt for my overdue mortgage repayment. Soon afterwards, he said he hoped I'd go with him to the newly-opened restaurant in Soller. I wanted to know why he'd paid the mortgage debt. He said he gained more pleasure from using his money to help people than anything he could buy. Not being naive, I decided I'd rather eat here, on my own.

‘He again asked me out to lunch and named that restaurant in Soller. Someone had told me she'd eaten there and the meal had been superb. I always find it difficult to refuse champagne. We had a great meal, he drove me back here, hoped I'd enjoyed the break and left. He asked me out a couple more times, for dinner. The routine each time was the same, a delicious meal, amusing talk, a cheek-kiss goodbye.

‘It's easy to say what happened next, difficult to explain. He asked me to dinner at Vista Bonita; his cook was a culinary genius, the meal would be better than we could have at any restaurant. We ate, drank, ended up in bed, despite all Frank's warnings.' She looked quickly at him. ‘And now you're thinking my marriage couldn't have been so perfect when I didn't bother about dishonouring it.'

‘Death draws an impenetrable line.'

‘Many ex-pats would disagree.'

‘I often disagree with their values.'

‘You may dislike me for saying this, but you're a very unusual policeman.'

‘I accept that as a compliment.'

‘You don't resemble Sam in any particular way, yet you make me think of him.'

A comparison of great worth. ‘Señora, I hope I have not distressed you?'

‘You may even have helped.'

‘I hope that proves to be so.' He stood. ‘I must leave.'

‘Before another drink?'

As he drove away, he remembered Juana-María with greater clarity than usual. It was as if another's acceptance of death had increased his sense of loss.

‘I
have questioned Señora Arcton, señor,' Alvarez said, receiver to his ear.

‘To what effect?' Salas asked.

‘She admits she had an affair with Señor Picare, however unlikely.'

‘I am surprised you consider any relationship unlikely.'

‘She is not beautiful and he usually chose those who were more obviously attractive. I think it's the señora's qualities which attracted him.'

‘Perhaps it was her readiness to forget she had been married that attracted him?'

‘Her compassion, sympathy, understanding—'

‘Complete your report without searching for emotions which could not more contradict the facts.'

‘It's not that straightforward. She suffered financial troubles and could not meet her mortgage repayments so was in danger of having her flat repossessed. Picare never said what he was going to do, but one day handed her a receipt for the overdue mortgage repayment. When she asked him why he had done that, he said he liked to use his money to help people.'

‘Nothing could be more straightforward. She well understood his motive and behaved like a puta.'

‘Never.'

‘What name do you use to describe a woman who sells her body?'

‘A puta sells herself to anyone who'll pay.'

‘The number of customers is immaterial, the relationship between action and money is. She related her financial problems in order to engage his interest in what she had to offer.'

‘Señor, she attracted his interested sympathy without artifice. If you question her, you will discover her captivating character.'

‘You suggest I meet this woman in order to judge her to be of the nature you contend rather than the one she clearly is?'

‘I think you would find—'

‘I have no intention of searching. Did you gain any information from her which could be termed material?'

‘She knows someone and he advised her against a friendship with Señor Picare. That might have been a quiet warning or a product of jealousy.'

‘I will not waste time asking you for your judgment, whether you have yet questioned this man or if you know his name.'

‘Frank.'

‘Frank who?'

‘I've only heard the señora refer to him by his Christian name.'

‘And you did not think to demand his surname and address?'

‘I very much doubt she will accept a demand. She will only give me the details if persuaded.'

‘Persuade her.'

‘It might be better if someone else did that.'

‘Why?'

‘It could be called a conflict of interests.'

‘You are making even less sense than usual. You will question Frank to discover if he suffers from an amoral jealousy sufficient to consider him a suspect.'

‘Señor …'

‘Is Señora Dunkling of greater respectability?'

‘That, I suppose, depends on one's point of view.'

‘Are you incapable of giving a straight answer?'

‘Señora Dunkling enjoys a ménage à trois.'

‘What!'

‘It is a situation in which a woman lives with two men or a man with—'

‘To my regret, I am aware of what the description means. My exclamation was expressing surprised shock that such immoral conduct should occur on this island.'

‘It is fairly common elsewhere.'

‘You have reason other than desire to make such assertion?'

‘I'll question the two men to find out if there is a question of jealousy. That's possible because one man might have exceeded his allowance.'

There was a silence.

‘Alvarez, it is very probable it would be an advantage for this investigation to be placed in other hands. However, I do not wish it to be widely known that such immorality exists in my area. You will question the husband.'

‘And the co-husband?'

‘You succeed in making a simple word sound offensive.'

The lift stopped, the door opened, Alvarez walked over to the door of the flat, rang the bell. This was opened by a woman of generous build who wore blouse and slacks. She regarded him with the hint of hostility Mallorquins often showed an unidentified visitor.

‘Are Señor and Señora Dunkling here?' he asked in Mallorquin.

‘I can't say.'

A typically evasive answer. Her accent marked her as a fellow Lluesan. If women were allowed to take part in the Festival of the Moors and Christians, she would no doubt have wielded a broom handle with sufficient force to make one or two ‘Moors' unhappy.

‘I would like to speak to them.'

A man came into the hall. ‘Who is it, Juana?' he asked in fractured Spanish.

Alvarez answered the question in English.

‘What brings you here, inspector?'

‘I have to investigate the unfortunate death of Señor Picare and you may be able to help me. You are Señor Dunkling?'

‘I am.'

‘May I enter?'

‘Sorry. Do come in.'

The sitting room was crowded with bulky furniture. On each of the two tables were orchids in flower, held upright with wooden supports, in attractive ceramic bowls. There was a well-filled bookcase, an entertainment stand on which was a large TV and a DVD player, two heavily inlaid poufs, three armchairs and a settee. Another middle-aged man, also in shorts, T-shirt and sandals, sat on the settee; in one of the easy chairs was a woman whose upper contours of breasts were visible through the over-generous line of the neck of her frock.

‘Inspector Alvarez,' Dunkling announced. ‘My wife, Giselle, and brother-in-law, Turner' were introduced with a brief wave of the arm.

‘I suppose you're here because of Neil?' Turner said.

‘Yes, señor. I wish to learn what you can tell me about Señor Picare.'

Dunkling spoke first. ‘There's very little we can say about him, inspector. We were invited to one or two of his parties, but that provided the few times we met.'

‘You were not firm friends?'

‘We lead a quiet life. Were that not from necessity, we might have been more favourably regarded.'

‘Nevertheless, you met the señor from time to time?'

‘Apart from the parties? In the village, perhaps, when it was a good morning, how are you and goodbye.'

‘My understanding is that generally speaking, he was not well liked.'

‘Money in the hands of someone who once had very little is regarded with suspicion since it is the reversal of a stable society.'

‘Would you think anyone had a more definite reason for disliking him?'

‘One imagines there must be husbands who do, unless they're enfeebled.'

‘Perhaps a Spanish husband or boyfriend might have had reason to hate him?'

‘Everything is possible, but I reckon he would have avoided becoming involved with a Spanish lady. The reputation of a Spanish husband is that he still regards his wife's virtue as his concern.'

‘You have knowledge of any husband Señor Picare might have cuckolded?'

‘“Cuckold”. A description which has almost become extinct despite the increased times when it could be used. Inspector, we were due to meet a friend at Bar Imperial some time ago. He will expect us to be late, but not so late as to be rude. We have told you all we know, so would it be all right if we bring things to an end?'

‘I shall want to have a word with the señora, but will return another time.'

‘I'd rather get it over with,' she said.

‘What can you tell him I haven't?' Dunkling asked her. ‘And don't forget, Harry and Charles will be there.'

‘You haven't mentioned that before. A good reason for staying here.'

‘I'm damned if I know why you don't like Charles.'

‘His hands have wandering instincts.'

‘A compliment.'

‘One I can happily forego.'

‘Then stay here and I will tell Charles how sorry you are at not being able to meet.'

Dunkling stood. ‘Don't let the inspector browbeat you.'

The two men left. A moment later, it sounded as if the door had been shut with considerable force. An expression of annoyance or uneasiness? Alvarez wondered.

‘Señora—'

She interrupted him. ‘There's really nothing to tell you.'

‘Even though you frequently visited Vista Bonita?'

‘Only from time to time.'

‘Was it not more frequently?'

‘No.'

‘Like most staff, those who worked for Señor Picare are curious. They have told me you were often there.'

‘If so, not for the reason you imagine.'

‘I am not imagining anything.'

‘Then you'll have been told Neil tried to jump every woman who came within his reach? I was never within a casual reach. I'm a physiotherapist.'

‘You were exercising your professional skills?'

‘Rather than my amatory ones. Neil has … had a painful back. In the past, I'd helped some ex-pats with their problems, he heard about this and asked me to treat him. I managed to relieve some of the pain and restore good mobility.'

‘Did Señor Dunkling object to your treating him?'

‘No.'

‘He was not worried by Picare's reputation?'

‘He is my husband.'

‘I am trying to ascertain the exact nature of Señor Picare's death, so I must ask again, did the señor not object to your treating Señor Picare?'