The Ambiguity of Murder by Roderic Jeffries Read Free Book Online Page B

nondescript and, with all shutters closed against the heat, deserted; inside, was a home enjoying many of the luxuries that the success of the tourist trade had brought to the island.
    Inés, far more composed than she had been that morning, was dressed in a brightly coloured frock that was sufficiently close fitting to show she was not yet troubled by the excess weight which so often affected the women of the island. ‘I’m in a hurry,’ she said with nervous impatience.
    â€˜It won’t take a moment for you to answer a couple of questions,’ Alvarez answered.
    â€˜Why? I mean, I didn’t even know the señor had had an accident until Lorenzo told us.’
    â€˜D’you mind if I sit down? I’ve had a heavy day and my legs are tired.’
    As was so often the case, the front room was for formal occasions and the furniture had been chosen for appearance, not comfort. The wooden chair with a rush seat and an elaborately shaped back dug into him however much he moved around. ‘When I was talking to Dr Sanz, he mentioned the fact that you’d told him you’d seen a car drive away from Son Fuyell last night. Obviously this might be important, so I need to know more about it. What was the time?’
    She fidgeted with her fingers.
    â€˜Was it before or after dark?’
    She spoke so hurriedly that the words jostled each other. ‘I was all shocked. I mean, first me and Susana thought Lorenzo was joking, then we found he wasn’t. And when the doctor came, he started asking questions and it was like he was blaming us … I just didn’t know what I was saying.’
    â€˜Are you now suggesting you didn’t see a car leaving Son Fuyell last night?’
    She looked longingly at the front door.
    â€˜Perhaps you were with a friend?’
    She opened her mouth to speak, closed it.
    â€˜If you were, where’s the harm?’
    â€˜Mum and Dad don’t like him,’ she said sullenly.
    â€˜That’s far from unusual. Lots of parents dislike their daughters’ friends for no good reason.’
    â€˜They won’t listen.’
    â€˜Once again, quite normal.’
    â€˜They’re so old-fashioned. Expect me to be back home in the evening when everyone else is out having fun.’
    â€˜They worry you might be having the kind of fun that maybe they had when they were young.’ In presenting himself as a modern liberal, he ignored the certainty that when her parents had been young, the rules of behaviour might have been lax for a son, but certainly had not been so for a daughter. ‘At a guess, you and your boyfriend found somewhere nice and quiet to be on your own?’
    She nodded.
    â€˜Near Son Fuyell?’
    She nodded again.
    â€˜Where exactly?’
    â€˜There are some trees just inside the entrance…’ She stopped.
    â€˜I remember them; a small copse of pines.’
    â€˜Well … There’s a bit of a clearing just inside them which is big enough for a car. Me and Francisco often … sometimes go there to … to listen to the nightingales.’
    He managed not to smile.
    â€˜Nothing ever happens.’
    â€˜When you parked amongst the pines, was it dark?’
    â€˜Not really, because of the moon.’
    â€˜But it would have been but for the moon?’
    The question puzzled her until he rephrased it. She agreed it had been after dark.
    â€˜How long were you there before you saw this other car?’
    â€˜A bit of time.’
    â€˜You couldn’t be more definite?’
    She shook her head.
    â€˜What made you notice it?’
    â€˜I thought maybe it was the señor and was kind of worried he might notice us. Only he couldn’t have. And anyway, his car’s a cabriolet and he always has the top down. Another thing, it was going so fast. Francisco said it was like the driver didn’t care what happened to the car. I mean, that track isn’t exactly