Blood Wedding (42 page)

He returned to his uncomfortable sofa.

What the hell, he thought. He went into the bedroom. Moonbeams filtered through the half-closed shutters, flickering across Anita’s coal-black hair. He looked at her, shrugged, and climbed into bed beside her. She snuggled up against him. He put his arm around her, kissed her on her hair, murmured, ‘Pleasant dreams,’ and fell asleep.

When he awoke, the sun was shining through the open shutter. Anita was up and dressed.

‘I’ve made some coffee,’ she said. ‘I have to fly. Seeing that pig Gonzo.’ She leant over Max, and kissed him on the mouth. ‘Give me time, Max. Give me time.’ She then left.

Max lay staring at the sunshine. I have all the time in the world, he thought. So why not?

He wandered into the kitchen, and poured himself a cup of coffee. He remembered Paula’s tape. He went to get the jiffy bag. As he took the tape out, he noticed a little note in the bag. It was from Paula.

‘I know I shouldn’t have done this, Max. This is Leila’s last interview with me. I just didn’t want you to know. So I kept it.’

Max put on the tape, not knowing quite what to expect.

Paula:
How are you today, Leila?

Leila:
Fine, thanks. Er . . . er . . . well . . .

Paula:
Cat got your tongue,
cariño?

Leila:
I’ve got some news for you, Paula . . . but I’m not sure you’ll like it.

Paula:
Is it about Antonio?

Leila:
I think I’ve found something. It’s not definite.

Paula:
Don’t be afraid to tell me.

Leila:
I’ve come across some material, which might be his.

Paula:
Don’t stop. Let me know.

Leila:
It’s about your husband, Pablo.

Paula:
Ah.

Leila:
I think Pablo and Capitán Vicente González got hold of El Gato’s land after he was shot.

Paula:
That’s possible. A lot of Republican property changed hands illegally after the Civil War.

Leila:
That’s not all.

Paula:
Go on.

Leila:
I think Antonio believed Pablo had a hand in betraying Lorca, and maybe . . .

Paula:
Lorca?

Leila
. Yes. Someone revealed where Lorca was hiding to a fascist militia group. Antonio thought it was Pablo.

Paula:
Why Pablo?

Leila:
He had connections to Acción Popular . . . and I think Antonio may have put two and two together and, well . . . jumped to a conclusion.

Paula:
But Pablo would never have wanted anyone to harm Lorca. Never.

Leila:
I’m sure you’re right.

Paula:
But it could explain . . . perhaps that’s why Antonio stopped me seeing Pablo.
Dios mío!

Leila:
Paula, there might be something else. I . . . I . . . I’ve still more research to do though.

Paula:
I need the truth, Leila. I have to know what really happened.

Leila:
I’ve found things . . . and I don’t understand them . . . I need a bit more time.

Paula:
It’s the truth that matters. We can talk another time.

Leila:
How’s the family?

Paula:
Encarnita just passed another exam at her dancing class.

Leila:
She’s lovely. Juan must be so proud of her.

Paula:
He is. Leila, you’re very lovely yourself.

Leila:
Thanks, Paula.

Paula:
Juan can be so charming, can’t he?

Leila:
Paula!

Paula:
I’ve seen you look at him when we’re together. I may be an old woman, but I know what those looks mean. You’re playing with fire.

Leila:
Oh, Paula. I don’t know what to do.

Paula:
Don’t cry,
cariño mío.

Leila:
Paula. Paula.

Paula:
Turn the tape off,
querida
. Turn the tape off.

‘It seems a shame,’ the Walrus said,
‘To play them such a trick.’

Lewis Carroll,
Through the Looking Glass

It was Sunday, and now well into September. In October, the weather would turn, and cooler breezes from the Sierra Nevada would begin to cool the smouldering heat and lift the fog of pollution over Granada. And the rains might come and fill the empty streams and rivers with water, and the ducks in the river, el Río Darro, might protest less. But there were still a couple of weeks of heat before then.

Max had promised Paula he would be over for Sunday lunch. Juan was still in hospital, so he would have to do the barbecue. He hadn’t heard from Anita since that evening in el Duende. Max took two litres of water with him for the drive over to Diva. He needed it.

As he drove up the driveway to Paula’s house, Encarnita skipped out to greet him, David the kitten in her arms.

‘Tito
Max!
Tito
Max . . . my friend Jane has come for lunch.’

Jane joined Encarnita as he parked the car on the driveway. Max shook hands with her formally, and in his most polite English said, ‘How are you? Remember me?’

‘Yes. You are the policeman who asked me questions about Leila.’

Encarnita handed David over to Jane, and threw herself into Max’s arms.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Careful. My ribs can still hurt.’

‘Come and see what Leonardo has got,’ and taking him by the hand she pulled him round to the back of the house.

‘Look,’ she said pointing to a hutch. ‘It’s a rabbit. We’ve called him Federico.’

‘Why Federico?’

‘Cause he’s got big ears.’

Paula hobbled out, her arms covered in flour.

‘Max,
querido
, so good to see you. Can’t hug you – don’t want flour all over. I’ve heard from the hospital. I may need a hip replacement, but not yet.’

‘That’s good. No point in rushing things.’

‘I had invited Anita over for lunch today, but she has to deal with some crisis with her sister. She said she’d phone later.’

‘Fine. But I’d better go and sort out the barbecue. Have we still got some rosemary twigs?’

‘Yes. In the shed.’

Max got the barbecue going, and then went inside. Paula and Isabel were in the kitchen together, in itself a breakthrough.

‘Can I wash my hands?’ he asked.

‘I’m just washing the salad. Can you use upstairs?’ said Isabel.

At the top of the stairs Max’s mobile rang.

‘Dígame.’

‘Max. It’s Anita. How are you?’

‘Me? I’m fine.’

‘It was a lovely evening at el Duende.’

Max didn’t reply.

‘Sorry I couldn’t make it over today.’

‘Another crisis?’

‘Yes. Another crisis with my sister.’

There was a pause. Neither spoke.

‘Max. Are you still there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Max . . . Max I think I may have found something about Leila’s death, but I really don’t want to talk about it over the phone. I was wondering, are you free this evening?’

‘Yes. I’m thinking of spending it up in
el cortijo
. I’ve also got tomorrow off.’

‘That must be nice. Max . . . I’m also free. Tomorrow’s free as well. Could I come over and see you this evening? I need to talk to you about it privately. It’s a tricky one.’

‘Sure. Stay over if you like.’

‘About six? See you later.’

Max washed his hands, and returned to the kitchen. Paula was there alone. ‘Thanks for the tape,’ he said.

‘I should have given it to you earlier. But you must understand how I feel about Juan.’

‘Nothing can surprise me now,
abuela
. The reference to the land deals was very interesting. Maybe that’s how Gonzo got that plot by Felipe’s bar.’

‘Oh, that. It wouldn’t surprise me.’

‘Me neither.’

‘Max . . . you’re standing there with an empty glass. Another
cerveza?’

‘I’ll get it.’

‘You know that the new government is giving permission to dig up suspected Civil War graves?’ I’ve applied for permission to dig in El Fugón.’

‘Wow! Well done!’

Paula grinned . . . and hugged him. ‘If we do find Antonio, I want a proper funeral.’

‘Of course. He should have the best.’

‘Max, do you think Abbot Jorge would conduct the funeral Mass?’

‘It’s not his patch, but I’m sure he would love to do it.’

‘He’s been a good friend to you.’

‘Yes, he has.’

‘Max, I really want to speak at the funeral . . . to tell everyone what happened. We must never let it happen again.’

‘That could be a problem with the Archbishop – you know what he’s like, a real traditionalist. But I’m sure Jorge can swing something.’

The children, encouraging David to meow for titbits, dominated the meal. In the middle of lunch, Jane turned to Max.

‘Did you ever find the walrus?’

‘The walrus?’

‘You know . . . the man I saw on the road in the rain.’

‘On the road?’

‘Yes. The day we left to go home to England.’

Max paused. ‘No, we never did. But why walrus?’

‘Beause he reminded me of the walrus in my book. I’ve got it here. I’ll show you if you like.’

‘Yes. I’d like to see it.’

She and Encarnita jumped from their chairs, and ran off to Encarnita’s room. They soon returned with the book, an illustrated copy of Lewis Carroll’s
The Walrus and the Carpenter.

Max opened it. ‘I still don’t see . . .’

‘Look, I’ll show you,’ said Jane. ‘The best picture is here – look.’ And Jane recited:

‘“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes – and ships – and sealing wax –
Of cabbages – and kings.”’

Max took the book. ‘I still—’

‘The man I saw looked a bit like the Walrus.’

‘The Walrus?’

Jane and Encarnita both laughed, and skipped out of the room giggling. Max was left staring at the Walrus.

At the end of the meal he made his apologies, and left as soon as he could. He had to get back and clean
el cortijo
. He hoped he had clean sheets in the cupboard. Also he needed to think. Had he missed something significant? What was it that Anita had found? Who was the walrus?

Thank God. He did have clean sheets in the cupboard. Not matching, but clean. Max looked at his watch. He had an hour before Anita arrived. A quick wash of the floors, shove the dirty washing in the linen basket, tidy the books and newspapers, then stick the trash in the bin outside the side door. That should do. It only took thirty minutes to finish the tasks. Good. There were two bottles of white wine in the fridge but nothing decent to eat . . . they’d have to go out for a meal. Max looked around. The windows could do with a clean, but he hadn’t time now. A few flowers would brighten the place up. He took the secateurs from the drawer and walked up to the top terrace. There were still some yellow roses blooming. He cut a few sprays, and returned to
el cortijo
. No vase. He remembered he had thrown out an empty pickle jar. It should still be in the bin. Jar retrieved, washed, and the label removed, he had a vase. Bedroom or sitting room? Best just put the roses in the sitting room. He looked at his watch again. There was still time for a quick shower.

At exactly six Anita knocked on the door. She was wearing jeans and a pink strappy T-shirt, and was carrying a shoulder bag. Max kissed her warmly on both cheeks. She responded equally warmly.

‘I’ve got a bottle of white Don Darías in the fridge. A glass?’ asked Max.

‘Love one. My sister is becoming a real pain. Next time I’ll just leave her to sort out her own problems.’

‘Let’s have the drink under the olive tree – it’s cool enough now.’

Max took the bottle and two glasses. He gave Anita a bowl of olives to carry to the table under the olive tree. They sat quietly for a minute.

‘Cheers,’ said Max.

‘Cheers,’ echoed Anita.

And they clinked their glasses, smiling at each other.

‘Okay,’ said Max. ‘What’s the mystery?’

‘It’s probably not significant . . . but it keeps on going round and round in my head. Remember we agreed to follow up Leila’s phone calls? I finally managed to get a copy of her old bills from her mobile phone company – it was a Spanish one, so it took ages for them to fax me copies. I started going through them. Well, there were two calls to a number I recognized from work. I checked my own address book . . . and it’s our Teniente González.’

‘González? Well?’

‘González never said he knew Leila.’

‘That’s true.’

‘I played canny on this one. When we sitting around the station chewing the cud, I casually asked if he had ever met Leila. And he said he had never met her, spoken to her or even knew who she was. What do you make of that?’

‘That’s interesting. Another glass, Anita?’

‘Please. It’s lovely here, so peaceful.’

‘Yes. It’s my favourite spot. So what do you make of it?’

‘Don’t know. But why should he deny he knew her when I have evidence Leila phoned him twice?’

‘Hmm . . . we need to think this through. I’m going to get a biro.’

Max was back in a minute with notebook, biro and a bowl of almonds.

‘Right. One, Leila had phoned González, but he says he’d never had any contact with her. You couldn’t have got this wrong, Anita?’

‘No way. Unless someone else had borrowed or stolen Gonzo’s mobile. Not likely. It’s the one he uses for work.’

‘Okay. So he must have a reason to hide his contact with Leila. It’s not something you’d forget. It’s a murder case.’

‘Yes. And remember, Max – when I phoned you the day we found the body, it was because we couldn’t get hold of González.’

‘That’s right. Gonzo turned up after we left to tell Ahmed.’

‘Can you remember what he said?’

‘Yes. He’d been working on his land, and he can’t get a mobile signal there . . .’

‘But Gonzo’s land is by Felipe’s bar, and I’ve never had a problem with my mobile there.’

Max wrote this down in his notepad. ‘Okay. Anything else?’