The Ambiguity of Murder (15 page)

‘That was an obvious possibility, but it didn't seem to fit his character…' Turpin became silent. He picked up his cup and drained it.

‘It sounds a straightforward traffic incident – one driver under the influence, the other who thinks he's a Schumacher, a kid who's in the wrong place at the wrong time – why were you called in instead of leaving the case with the divisional DI?'

‘The interesting bit is to come.' Turpin lit yet another cigarette. ‘Because Bailey had been so incensed by the stupidity and recklessness of the driver of the Jaguar, he'd made a mental note of the registration number and despite the shock – or even perhaps because of it – he was able to quote this in his statement. When the number was fed into the computer, up came the Bolivian embassy in London as registered owners.'

Perry whistled.

‘Just so! Trouble, in underlined capitals! I'm called in to keep things cool, the bureaucrats wet their knickers more than usual, every detail of the case is viewed from twenty different angles before the embassy is contacted.

‘They denied their Jaguar had been involved in any accident that night, or any other night. Questions were put with as much tact as if we'd been talking to a load of nuns in a rape case. Had the car been on the road that night? No. Who normally drove it? The chauffeur assigned to it. His name? The embassy was not at liberty to disclose the names of any who worked for it. Where was the harm in naming him if he had not been involved in the incident? No comment. Could the car be examined to confirm it had not been in an accident and that the eyewitness evidence was false? Certainly not. Why not? No comment.

‘Since a successful defence obviously depended on Bailey's version of events being accepted, his lawyers decided to flush out the chauffeur so that he could be questioned. The moment they set the wheels in motion, the embassy claimed the man was part of the ambassadorial suite and therefore enjoyed diplomatic immunity. Since chauffeurs don't normally enjoy that degree of status, the defence challenged the assertion. A member of the embassy confirmed the claim and a Foreign Office certificate to that effect was issued; this meant that no court could traverse the certificate to determine whether the chauffeur really was entitled to immunity.

‘The defence team were high-powered and at the trial they pulled out all the stops. Bailey had been over the alcohol limit, but only just; he had been in full control of himself. He had not stopped immediately, because he had been so shocked it had taken him time to recover – the fact that he had returned proved this. The victim had been struck first by the Jaguar and even if cold sober, he would have had absolutely no chance of avoiding hitting her. Prosecution witnesses had agreed that in view of the very serious injuries the victim had suffered, they would have expected to find considerably greater damage to his car – their claim that this did not prove his contention that when the victim struck his car this was a secondary blow, was clearly unsustainable. He had named the other car as a Jaguar when giving the number to the police and had said it was white in colour. That number did belong to a white Jaguar, so it would be a coincidence too far to believe he had pulled it out of the air to add a suggestion of verisimilitude. The fact that the Jaguar belonged to a foreign embassy which refused to allow the car to be examined strongly suggested … The judge jumped very quickly on that and expressed his great surprise that so eminent a silk should try to introduce evidence through the back door which he knew could not be introduced through the front door …

‘All in all, the defence put up a good fight and the verdict might well have gone in Bailey's favour – as far as the more serious charge was concerned, of course – if he had only presented himself better in the witness box. But he seemed … The best I can say is, he didn't project the emotional urgency which a man can be expected to do when he's struggling to make people understand he's telling the truth; he seemed almost resigned to being disbelieved.'

‘Yet you said earlier that most of the time you reckoned he was telling the truth?'

‘That's right.'

‘Then why should he have been resigned?'

‘Perhaps because he wanted to be.'

‘I'm afraid I don't get that.'

‘You can still meet someone who lives by standards. He'd have been called a gentleman in the days when that was a mark of respect rather than sarcasm. I reckon something had happened which caused him to feel guilty, guilt deserved punishment, therefore he must suffer punishment. Perhaps confirmation that he'd had a woman in the car who shouldn't have been there?… And now he's suspected of murder?'

‘The Spanish police don't go that far, but it's clear they think him a possible suspect in a possible murder. There is one last thing, sir.'

‘Which is?'

‘Can you give me the names of the chauffeur and whoever it was who granted him diplomatic immunity?'

‘I seem to remember defence counsel managed to flush out both, but what they were, I haven't the slightest idea.'

‘They're probably on record. So do you think you could be very kind and check them out?'

‘You're asking me to spend my retirement ploughing through ancient files?'

‘It would be a little more information to feed through to Majorca. These days, the buzz word is PR and it would be a good move to make the blokes over there realize how much trouble we've taken on their behalf.'

‘You think they'll give a damn? Public relations? An excuse for incompetence!'

CHAPTER 17

Alvarez mopped his forehead, cheeks and neck with a handkerchief. It was not a hot summer; it was a summer straight from the fires of hell; it left a man struggling to find the energy to keep his eyes open …

One of the two female civilians at the post walked into his office. Spain had enthusiastically embraced the theory of sexual equality in the workforce; before some sections of the workforce responded, the female intake would need to be more feminine. ‘Fax,' she said, her voice grainy, as if she had been working the fields for hours without a drink. ‘It's your job to collect 'em.'

‘I didn't know there was one to collect.'

‘Been trying to get hold of you for long enough. Spend your time asleep, I suppose.' She slapped the fax down on the desk, left. He wondered how much longer her linen slacks would withstand the strain they were under.

He read the fax, whistled, looked up at a gecko on the ceiling. ‘What is the superior chief going to say to this?' The gecko did not answer, but looked as if it could guess.

Zavala had awarded Rojas Algaro diplomatic immunity, which meant the defence had been unable to prove Bailey's claim that the Jaguar had hit the girl first, sending her up into the air to brush his car. To know that a man had prevented one from proving one's innocence, had condemned one to a prison sentence, was cause for wild thoughts and dreams of revenge throughout the incarceration; unexpectedly to meet a man at a cocktail party and learn from his boasting that he was not just a Zavala, but
the
Zavala, was to discover that the means for revenge were to hand …

Was this motive stronger than those of Robertson and Pons? Only they could accurately judge how strongly their motives drove them. But what was certain was that of the three, only Bailey owned an Astra shooting brake …

What should his next move be? Did he act and then inform Salas; did he first inform Salas of his intended action? It was a tricky decision. He decided to make it over a cup of coffee and a brandy.

He was within a hundred metres of the Club Llueso, trying to edge his way through a drifting stream of tourists who had been brought to the village by bus, when a voice behind him said: ‘Mr Holmes, I presume.'

He came to a stop and turned to face Lockhart. ‘No, señor, Inspector Alvarez of the Cuerpo General de Policia.'

‘Now is that a naively innocent reply, or one carefully constructed to make me look foolish?… You intrigue me, Inspector, though for your peace of mind I hasten to add, only in an intellectual sense. You possess that gift, invaluable to anyone who has reason to hide the course of his thoughts, of being able to look vacuous even when most cerebrally active.'

‘How can that be certain if my expression is so vacant?'

‘The more I see of you, the more I appreciate you. Come and have a coffee.'

‘I don't think I have the time.'

‘On this island, still an outpost of gracious living, time has no meaning.'

‘My superior chief would not agree.'

‘Superiors never agree with anything, which is why they are so superior. Please don't deprive me of your company.'

Alvarez followed Lockhart up the steps to the higher part of the square and across to where tables and chairs were set out in front of one of the cafés. As they sat in the shade of a sun umbrella, a waiter hurried across, suggesting Lockhart was a regular customer who was liberal with his tips.

‘What would you like?' Lockhart asked.

‘Coffee cortado, please.'

‘And a coñac to go with it, of course. You have the measure of a man who makes a point of observing custom.' He gave the order, produced a silver cigarette case. ‘Do you smoke?'

‘Regrettably, yes.'

‘Regret your virtues, not your vices; throughout history, virtue has caused far greater disasters than vice ever has.' He opened the case and Alvarez took a cigarette, then flicked a lighter for both of them. He drew on his cigarette, said: ‘Pander to my enjoyment of the inessential and tell me if the case of the drowned diplomat is solved?'

‘Not yet.'

‘Was it murder?'

‘Even that isn't certain.'

‘Excellent! Mysteries need time to mature.'

‘Señor…'

‘The name is Theodore. My parents had an unfortunate sense of humour.'

‘Do you think Señor Robertson suspected his wife was having an affair with Señor Zavala?'

‘You are asking me to betray friendship?'

‘Did you not betray it each time you drove the señora to Son Fuyell?'

‘There is acid behind the soft soap? No, inspector of morals, I did not. My friendship is with Karen, whom I love dearly because she is amusing and supremely selfish. By contrast, Jerome is the kind of man who demands to be betrayed when he is not ignored. A little man from the outer suburbs of some ghastly town, he made a lot of money and lacks the wit to spend it elegantly. He'll repeat the latest stock market figures with unseemly relish, but try to talk about the genius of Velázquez and he'll tell you he has no interest in Spanish football.'

‘He must have wondered why the señora and you so often went for a drive.'

‘If so, it would only to have been to question her taste of companion.'

The waiter returned and put cups, milk, sugar, and two glasses, down on the table, spiked the bill, hurried away.

Lockhart added milk and sugar to his coffee, stirred. ‘You really believe Jerome could have sufficient manhood in him to murder Guido?'

‘People are not always what they seem to be to others.'

‘You would grant the man hidden depths? Let me assure you that his depths are as shallow as his taste in wine.'

Alvarez drank some coffee, replaced it with brandy. ‘Of course, if Señor Robertson were to be charged with the murder, inevitably his wife's affair would come to light. Since you are her friend, you would not wish that to happen.'

‘You can believe I would risk my bad name by lying to you in a good cause?'

‘If that amused you.'

‘We understand each other better and better. Jerome never suspected the truth. First, because he dislikes me so much he could never accept the possibility I might have helped to make a fool of him, secondly, because he is so pompously self-satisfied that he's incapable of imagining his wife could cuckold him … Does that convince you?'

‘It's an opinion I'll bear in mind.'

‘Oh, man of little faith! Here am I, trying to help, and you treat me with doubt and even suspicion … Let me prove my bona fide. From what Karen has told me and from your talking to me, I gain the certain impression that you are searching for a motive for Guido's death – that is, a stronger one than the natural wish to relieve the world of his presence. Am I right?'

‘Perhaps.'

‘A furious row would suggest a very antagonistic relationship, would it not?'

‘Normally.'

‘And a very antagonistic relationship can end in violence?'

‘At times.'

‘Inspector, if discretion is the better part of criminal investigation, you are a titan in your chosen field.' Lockhart finished his coffee, then his brandy. ‘You will have the same again?'

Alvarez saw no reason to refuse.

Lockhart called a waiter across, gave the order. He moved his chair to keep within the shade of the sun umbrella. ‘One has to be so careful of the complexion … Guido was a man of catholic tastes. I'm sure you appreciate that?'

‘It depends on the context.'

‘The context of truth. Having met him several times at the ghastly cocktail parties the local, self-declared socialites insist on holding, he suggested I might like to visit his home and enjoy his collection of paintings by modern artists. I asked him if he had any Llulls, and he had two, which does suggest he possessed slightly better taste than his manner suggested. Taste is so important and I decided to accept the invitation. I drove up to his place – could anything be less tasteful? Even if he wasn't responsible for its building, he needn't have lived there – and Inés welcomed me in. I feel certain she's a flighty girl, but why not? Soon, she will be too old to fly. She told me Guido was with a friend and the two men were down by the pool, so why didn't I go down there? The easy manner with which she made the suggestion seemed to negate any possibility that my unscheduled appearance would cause an embarrassment, so that is what I started to do. I was halfway to the pool when it became very obvious that Inés had exaggerated when she had named the visitor a friend. Guido, who was out of sight, was having a furious argument. Rows make me feel very unsafe and I was about to return to my car when he and another man emerged from the poolhouse. When he saw me, he cursed me and accused me of spying. He was beside himself with rage and I became quite trembly. I tried to assure him that far from spying, I was there because of his open invitation to look at his paintings – not etchings, please note – but I might as well have spoken to an olive tree. As you will imagine, my one desire became to extract myself from so invidious a position, so I left. I have always considered self-preservation to be an admirable trait.'