Dead Clever (2 page)

He returned to the arrival hall and, after identifying himself to the police, passed through the doorway. Inside there was turmoil since four flights had arrived in quick succession and as yet none of the luggage had been unloaded from the planes because the porters hadn’t finished their coffee-break. Clearly there was no chance of his identifying Ware on sight, so he spoke to the sargento at one of the desks and asked him to page señor Robert Ware on the PA system.

Ware proved to be several inches taller than Alvarez— and several inches slimmer. Dressed casually, but neatly, in a lightweight sports jacket, open neck shirt, and blue cotton trousers, his face was brown, in contrast to the whiteness of so many of his fellow passengers, and strongly featured; there were lines of humour about his mouth. He looked, decided Alvarez, to be the kind of person all Englishmen had been presumed to be before package holidays brought too many to the island for any generalization to remain valid.

‘Señor Ware, I am Inspector Enrique Alvarez of the Cuerpo General de Policia. Superior Chief Salas asked me to welcome you to Mallorca and to say that I shall be happy to offer you all possible assistance.’

‘Great! And even greater to discover that you speak English like a native.’ His cheerful grin reached round his face. ‘Since I was assigned to this job, I’ve been swotting up on a Spanish phrase book—and coming to the conclusion that I’ll starve because I’ll never remember anything and no one will understand what I’m saying even if I do . . . By the way, the name’s Robert or Bob; but if it’s all the same to you, not Bobby because for some reason that name makes me cringe.’

‘I will try to remember that.’

There was a swirling movement among part of the crowd and Ware looked across to see that one of the indicators at the head of a carousel was now showing his flight. ‘It looks as if the luggage has finally started to come through so I’ll go over and collect my bag.’

‘First tell me, do you have a hotel reservation? If not, I will arrange a room while you claim your luggage. It is not easy to get a good room at this time of the year, you’ll understand, but I do have friends in the business who owe me favours . . .’

‘That’s very kind of you, but I booked by phone last night. I’m staying at the Vefour.’

‘The Vefour?’ said Alvarez curiously. ‘I don’t think I know it.’

‘It’s a small place up in the hills where my wife and I stayed a few years back. We both thought it as close to heaven as we’d ever be allowed to climb. They say never go back to somewhere you’ve once loved, but I decided to take the risk. Not that I had the courage to tell her!’

Since tourism had revolutionized the entire economy of the island, it was ridiculous to suggest that anywhere or anything had remained unchanged; even the farmer from the mountains who had once been faced with a day-long mule-cart ride to the nearest shop now made the journey by car in half an hour and once there was faced with a bewildering choice of goods for sale. But the Vefour still possessed unmistakable links with the days when Mallorca was truly the Island of Calm, each village regarded the next village as foreign land, and the people’s standards were those of honesty and compassion because none of them had been corrupted by a flood of foreign money or bewildered by foreign sophistication.

The hotel lay half way up a hill, on a shelf of land little more than half a hectare in size. Originally a typical Mallorquin farmhouse, built in stone to the simplest possible design, it had been enlarged and modernized, but in character so that it still looked almost part of the rocky soil on which it stood. It was owned by a family who had had the wit to perceive that there would always be a few people who preferred quiet simplicity to raucous sophistication; although each bedroom had its own shower, there was no chromium bar, no piped music, no television room, no sauna, and discotheque was a dirty word—it had been years before the swimming-pool had been built; service was friendly, but if one liked to be treated with servility because one tipped well, one left and went elsewhere; several tour operators had wanted to include the hotel in their up-market holidays, but all had been politely turned down.

In the summer, guests could if they wished dine outside; most so wished. At night, while the whole of the bay was visible, Palma became merely an attractive jumble of lights and one could forget how much of the shoreline had been ruined by development. Few cars used the road and for most of the time one could hear the shrilling of cicadas, the belling of Scops Owls, and the croaking of nightjars.

The waiter—he was one of the sons and very like his father in appearance—put the two Martinis on the table, wished them good drinking, and left. Ware raised his glass. ‘To a life where time stands still.’

Alvarez drank. ‘It sounds as if things here are very much as you remember them?’

‘Exactly. And I’ll swear that none of the family is a day older. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they all live to be centenarians, like those people in Georgia.’ He stared out at the distant bay for several seconds, then sighed. ‘If only time really could stand still when one wants it to, and not when one doesn’t . . . You said you know hardly any of the details of the case?’

‘It would be more accurate to say that I know none of them; that is, apart from the fact that a small plane flew from this island and disappeared into the sea.’

‘Then I’ll set the scene. I’m what’s called a loss adjuster, which means I’m called in when a claim is made against an insurance company and they have their doubts about the genuineness of the claim; it’s my job to find out if their doubts are justified. Almost certainly, you have the same kind of set-up here?’

‘Indeed, but not for very long since it is only recently that the ordinary person has owned anything worth insuring.’ Alvarez chuckled. ‘And now when we wish to describe someone who is really simple, we say that he is a man who forgets to check that his insurance is up to date before he sets fire to his house.’

The waiter brought their first course—sopas Mallorquinas for Alvarez and grilled gambas for Ware.

‘I’ve been dreaming of these,’ said Ware, as he picked up the first of the six very large prawns. He pulled the head away, stripped off the legs and shell, popped the meat into his mouth. ‘As delicious as I’ve been imagining, so don’t ever tell me that dreams don’t come true. I daren’t tell Heather I’ve had these or she’ll divorce me for cruelty . . . To return to essentials. The twin-engined Fleche which flew from this island and crashed into the sea was piloted by a man called Timothy Green who had a life policy with the Crown and Life Insurance Company; it’s they who’ve called me in.

‘The policy was first taken out just about three years ago and Green declared, as bound to do, that he held a pilot’s licence and from time to time flew himself about the world. Obviously, the premium charged took account of this additional risk and the policy contained the standard clause that it would only be valid if, in the event of any accident while piloting an aircraft, he held a current licence.’

Ware was silent as he ate a couple more prawns. Noticing that Alvarez’s glass was almost empty, he refilled it, and his own, from the bottle of Bach. ‘At the end of the first year, Green asked that the capital sum assured be increased by roughly the rate at which inflation was running. Since this was no more than prudent financial management on his part, the increase was granted without any further questions. The same thing happened at the end of the second year. Then, just over a fortnight ago—which is a few weeks short of when, if the sequence had been observed, Green would have been making another application to raise the sum assured by the rate of inflation—he telephoned to say that he wanted to double the amount. Naturally, a rise of this magnitude—and we’re now talking about half a million —wasn’t automatically granted and he was referred to a senior employee who tactfully explained that when so large an increase was sought, it was company practice to ask the policy holder to come to the office for a chat and possibly to undergo a fresh medical check—in other words, the company wanted to judge whether everything was still in order. Green claimed this was impossible because of his business commitments which included an imminent trip abroad, but that he had to have the increased insurance because he was soon marrying again and he wanted to be certain that his wife would be financially secure if anything unfortunate happened to him. The manager was sympathetic but inflexible; until Green came to the office and talked things over, nothing more could be done. Green began to argue and, according to the manager, became obnoxiously abusive.’

Ware refilled their glasses. ‘Drink up so that we can kill this bottle and have another.’ He smiled. ‘Ordering a second bottle of wine without nervously consulting my wallet always convinces me I really am in Spain!’

They finished their first course. As the waiter cleared the plates, Ware turned to Alvarez. ‘D’you object to smoking between courses?’

‘On the contrary.’

‘A man after my own heart!’ He brought a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered it. ‘Heather says it’s the sign of a barbarian. So, I tell her, I’m a barbarian.’ He flicked open a lighter and then, when their cigarettes were alight, settled back in his chair. ‘In the light of what I’ve told you, you won’t be surprised to learn that when the company received the report that an aircraft, piloted by Green, had disappeared into the sea, they immediately began to ask questions. Which is why I’m here now.’

‘They think it might have been a faked accident?’

‘In one. And not just because, without the increase asked for, the sum involved is in the order of a quarter of a million; after all, when businessmen are vain enough to value their lives in millions, that isn’t very much. It’s because of the pattern. As you suggested earlier, taking an insurance company on a faked claim has been popular ever since insurance was invented. But criminals aren’t usually all that imaginative and their methods of fraud tend to run in patterns. Obviously, a man who takes out an insurance today and claims on it tomorrow is going to be suspected, so the fraudster tries to establish himself as honest and the most popular way of doing this is to work to a distant dateline and for a while to pay the premiums on the dot and to increase the sum insured by only a reasonable amount, which is to say by no more than would a prudent man who’d never thought of swindling anyone in the whole of his life. Then, when satisfied he’s established himself, he produces a good reason for asking the capital sum assured to be increased considerably and after another pause he fakes his own death.’

Alvarez spoke diffidently, rather afraid that what he said might appear to be reflecting on Ware’s ability as an insurance investigator. ‘If this were the pattern that Green were following, wouldn’t he have waited to fake his own death until the sum assured had been increased and he would judge enough time had passed after that for suspicions to be dulled?’

‘Normally, the answer has to be yes. But it’s more than possible that he suddenly discovered he didn’t have all the time available that he’d been banking on and so if he was to carry out the fraud at all, he had to do it quickly. I know that if one were in his position and looked at the facts logically, one would say that it must be too dangerous to act precipitately and the idea must be dropped, but a criminal who’s spent a lot of thought and time on a projected job often can’t view it logically; and as you’ll know much better than I, fraudsters tend to be at the smart end of the criminal tree and it’s my experience that a smart man can get so puffed up with pride in his own smartness that he behaves like a plain, ordinary fool.’

‘That can be very true.’ Alvarez fiddled with some crumbs from his roll, kneading them into a pellet. ‘But from what you say you cannot as yet be certain that the crash was faked?’

‘That’s right. Which is why I’d be grateful for all the help you can give me.’

‘Of course.’

‘Starting off by seeing the officials at the airport who’ll be able to provide us with a much more detailed account of events than I have at the moment.’

‘I’ll ring them first thing tomorrow and find out exactly who to talk to and then arrange a meeting.’

‘That’s great!’ Ware drained his glass. ‘Where’s that other bottle? . . . You know, Enrique, sitting out here under the stars, eating ambrosia and drinking nectar, I realize I’m a prime candidate for the deadly sin of gluttony!’

A sound disturbed Alvarez’s sleep and he opened his eyes and stared at the far wall of the bedroom, clearly visible although both shutters and curtains were closed. He vaguely wondered what the sound could have been as he languidly and pleasurably drifted back to sleep . . .

There was a pounding on the bedroom door which startled him fully awake. ‘Are you deaf?’ Dolores called out.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked thickly, confusedly wondering if catastrophe had overtaken them all.

‘I’ve called you twice already. Aren’t you working today?’

‘Of course I am.’

‘Then you’d best get up before it’s time to start tomorrow.’

After a while he reluctantly climbed out of bed, crossed to the window, drew the curtains, undipped and opened the shutters. Sharp sunshine engulfed him and he felt the heat on his bare chest. He stared over the rooftops of the village houses at Puig Antonia. The buildings on the top of the sugar-loaf mountain had originally been a hermitage, but now nuns from a contemplative order lived in them. Hermitages in many parts of the island had fallen into desuetude, as hermitages, at around the time when the tourist industry had begun to bring prosperity. Presumably it was easier to renounce the material world when that offered little to be renounced . . .

Dolores called from the foot of the stairs: ‘If you’re not down inside five minutes, you’ll have to get your own chocolate.’

‘I’m just coming.’ Dolores, he thought as he began to dress, was becoming sharper with every day. Jaime should have read her the riot act a long time ago. Threatening to leave the house before she had prepared his breakfast!