The beatrice stubbs boxs.., p.57
The Beatrice Stubbs Boxset Two, page 57
As if he’d heard her, Will looked up from his preparations and grinned.
“Hmm, you might be right. He looks the sort to go for a golden tan, which you have not yet noticed.” Adrian pulled up the arm of his T-shirt and Beatrice responded exactly as she ought.
“Adrian! You look so sun-kissed! Have you been on holiday at all?”
Luke wandered over with a closed hand. “Guess what? Do you know which way is north?”
Beatrice looked to the sky. “My guess is that way.” She pointed east.
Adrian shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re wrong about that, Beatrice. I think you’ll find north is that way.” He pointed south.
“Wrong!” Luke opened his hand to reveal a tiny compass, the sort one might get in a Christmas cracker. “North is up there,” he whispered, his eyes wide with drama. “Beatrice, is your working place in the north?”
“No, a little bit south. But the weather is the same. My only problem is we have no beach. Can you believe it? One week in Portugal, a country full of beaches and what do I get? A big pond!”
Luke laughed and started to tell Beatrice about the picnic when the smell of burning and the sound of swearing drifted from the villa. Matthew broke off his conversation with Tanya and went indoors.
The group drew together near Will’s makeshift bar and took turns to reply to Luke’s knock-knock jokes. Adrian winked at the barman and got himself a second martini. He was just requesting an olive when Matthew emerged from the French windows and clapped his hands.
“Folks, change of plan. The oven malfunctioned and burnt the chicken. So I suggest we head down the hill to the fish restaurant tonight. Apparently we get five-star service if we mention our friend from Braga. Anybody sober enough to drive?”
Twenty minutes later, Will parked the Panda next to the Peugeot beside a very dark, closed restaurant. Adrian’s spirits sank. If it were only Will and himself, they’d laugh and go exploring elsewhere. But tonight there were seven adults and a hungry child to accommodate.
“You didn’t think to book a table?” asked Leon.
Matthew shook his head. “No, not at such short notice. I’m sorry, I thought we could just walk in on a Monday. Do you suppose all restaurants close on Mondays? Like hairdressers?”
Beatrice walked to the door. “Ah. The notice is in five languages. ‘Closed for two weeks for the annual family holiday.’ What a shame, I love that little pier and the boathouse on the lake. Too pretty. Still, there’s no food on offer here and time’s getting on. Back to the ranch for omelettes or a local café for a toasted sandwich?”
Will rested his chin on Adrian’s shoulder. “I’d chance the local, but happy to fall in with what everyone else wants to do. What do you say, Luke, omelette or toastie?”
Luke didn’t answer. Adrian looked around the car park, but there was no sign of him.
“Luke!” Tanya called. “Luke, where are you?”
After calling his name a few times, Will gave the party instructions. “Split up. He’s probably hiding from us. Leon and Marianne, look round the back of the restaurant, Tanya, you check the terrace. Beatrice and Matthew, search in and under both cars. Adrian and I will cover the pier and the boathouse.”
They spread out, calling Luke’s name with a false cheerfulness. Adrian tiptoed along the short pier, squinting into the black water, his mind playing out all kinds of nightmarish scenarios when a voice rang out.
“He’s here!”
Will guided Luke out of the boathouse onto the wooden boards of the pier, his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Tanya rushed down the steps. “Luke, where have you been? Don’t you ever do that again! Wandering off in the dark! You scared me half to death. You always stay with the family, understand?”
“I only wanted to have a look.” It was clear from Luke’s expression he had no idea what all the fuss was about.
“Well, don’t! If you want to go somewhere, you only ever go with one of us,” said Tanya. She turned back to the others. “Look, can we just get back to the villa and eat whatever we’ve got in the fridge? I’m kind of done with today.”
Leon and Marianne shared a look and stalked back to the car. The drive back was cold and awkward, unlike the villa, which smelt of burnt food. Everyone congregated in the kitchen for omelettes and toasties, but despite Matthew’s best efforts at inclusion, Marianne and Leon would not be mollified and retired to the garden flat.
Adrian was not sorry to see them go.
Chapter 15
One advantage of getting your face on TV most evenings is that people tend to know your name. This can open a whole lot of doors.
Yesterday Ana had sent out a dozen emails to colleagues, relatives and contacts of Silva’s hoping for at least one bite. She got four. One of whom refused her enquiry in the bluntest possible language. Two offered some personal platitudes and information on Silva but neither added much to what she already knew from her research. The fourth, however, made all Ana’s efforts worthwhile. Silva’s sister, Olivia, was willing to talk. Even better, face to face.
Ana stood at the faded wooden door on Rua Mirabilis, took a deep breath and rang the bell. She tilted her head towards the fish-eye lens so her face could be seen and pulled out her press pass. A tinny voice came through the intercom.
“Ms Herrero?”
“That’s me. Here’s my ID.” She held the card up to the camera.
“That’s not necessary, I recognise you from Telejornal. Come in. Directly across the courtyard and I’m on the second floor.”
A buzzer released the door and Ana pushed it open. The gloomy hallway gave way to a beautiful interior courtyard with trailing plants and tubs of flowers. Parakeets chattered and squawked from a cage on a balcony above and a cat lay in a patch of sun, watching her with indifference.
When she reached the second floor, an apartment door opened and Olivia Tavares appeared, a silhouette against the sunlight. Ana moved towards her, hand outstretched and was met by a study of grief. Not just the black clothes, wan complexion and puffy eyes, but a palpable feeling, like a musty smell. It was a salutary reminder that loss could be unexpectedly violent, attacking when you are least prepared. The two women shook hands and Olivia made a valiant effort to return Ana’s smile.
“Come in.”
Ana did as she was asked and stepped into a large room in which every surface held a plant. The profusion of greenery against blue walls gave the impression of an aquarium.
“You are alone?” asked Olivia.
Ana nodded, puzzled by the question.
“I’m glad. I’m not ready to face a camera crew today. Please, have a seat. You’ll take a coffee?”
Ana recalled the fictitious commission she had invented. The Life of Samuel Silva, a profile of the man and his achievements. Not entirely a lie, she argued with her conscience. If she found enough material, she could try to get the green light for some in-depth reportage. In return, her conscience gave her an arch look.
“Just water, thank you. No, it will be some time before we start filming. I have a lot of research to do before then. That is why I’m so grateful for your help. To be able to start with the family is exactly what I wanted. Thank you for meeting me, especially at such a difficult time.” She sat at the dining-table and took out her notebook.
Olivia poured a bottle of Salgados into two glasses. “Of course I will help. To be honest, I want to talk about him.”
“I can understand that. My aim is to profile the man as a whole, not just the professional. Can you tell me a little about your family? I know there are three children and Samuel was the eldest.”
“That’s right.” She sat opposite Ana, her face partly shadowed by an overgrown spider plant that hung from the ceiling, filtering the light. “Samuel, then me and Salvatore is the youngest. There are two years between each child. Our parents were good planners. We grew up in Sintra, on a beautiful quinta, with vineyards. My father inherited money and my mother had land. A wealthy, respectable family and three children destined for great things.”
“Were you three kids close?”
Olivia’s face crumpled and she pulled a tissue from her sleeve to press to her eyes. She held up a shaky hand as if to ask for patience. She took several uneven breaths and started to speak.
“We used to be. Samuel was the oldest and we both adored him. He was clever and kind and very protective of his siblings. He defended us against my father. Papa was an authoritarian, very old-fashioned with a quick temper. Samuel was always smart. He went to university and studied psychology, even though our father wanted him to be a doctor. Our mother was so proud of him and displayed all his certificates on our living-room wall.
“The trouble started when Mama died. She was the calming influence, a force for balance. Without her, my father became more conservative, less tolerant.” She heaved an enormous sigh.
“He was obsessed with class and education. He wanted Salvatore to study like Samuel, to become an engineer, but Salvatore trained as a mechanic and now works for the railway. As for me, his only ambition was to find me a good husband. I refused to cooperate and trained as a teacher. When I got married, it was for love, not for status. Our choices were a constant source of conflict between us, and family occasions became a source of stress, not comfort. But until our father’s death, the three of us were a unit, a team who looked after each other.
“Papa died four years ago and left his estate to Samuel as the eldest male. It was profoundly shocking. Of course Samuel was ready to be generous and share his good fortune, but Salvatore disputed the will in court. That put a terrible strain on the family. After the verdict, which was to uphold the will, Samuel and Salvatore no longer spoke. I hoped that one day they would reconcile, but now...”
Her voice cracked and Ana handed her a clean tissue.
“Take your time. There’s no rush,” Ana lied. To catch the 11.25 flight to Porto, she would need to leave within the hour and that was looking unlikely.
Olivia gulped some water. “It’s heartbreaking. My father and his money have made us angry and unforgiving. Even from beyond the grave he still divides us.”
“You too? Because you had to side with either Samuel or Salvatore?”
A grimace crossed Olivia’s face. “It was horrible. I tried to stay neutral but when I heard the terms of Papa’s will, I had to support Salvatore. You see, the will states that in the event of Samuel’s death, Salvatore inherits our father’s estate, bypassing me and ignoring Samuel’s own family. My father intended to ignore Samuel’s wife. It was an injustice I could not bear.”
“You can’t have been too happy yourself.”
Olivia shook her head, a quick, impatient gesture. “I don’t want it. That place holds nothing but bad memories and ghosts. What made me so angry was the unfairness of his final gesture. Papa wanted to keep stirring trouble long after his death and by writing such a bequest, he made sure he succeeded. When Samuel met Elisabete, a successful, independent doctor who had no need of financial support, my father called her a gold-digger. Grace be to God he died before they adopted Marcia. An orphan from Romania as his grandchild? He would rather have me inherit his estate. Me, a woman!”
The venom in her tone surprised Ana, but gave her cause for optimism. Anger has all the energy grief lacks. She drank some water and checked her watch. Forty minutes to mine this seam. It could be done.
“You said Samuel and Salvatore weren’t on speaking terms. What about you?”
“I talked to both my brothers. I love them and that will never change. Family is everything to me. After the court case, I tried to build bridges. Samuel and Elisabete embraced me immediately. Salvatore did not judge me for being in the middle, but refused to listen to any attempts at reconciliation. He just switched off whenever I mentioned Samuel’s name.”
Ana calculated. So the younger brother certainly had a motive. One of the oldest in the book. But why wait four years and take revenge at a conference of police detectives?
“Is Salvatore married?” she asked.
“Yes. He has a wife and two lovely boys. When Samuel and Elisabete adopted Marcia, I thought the children might provide some common ground.” She shook her head sadly. “Salvatore did seem to be softening, but when he heard about the court case, he shut down again.”
“The court case? For adoption?”
“No, this was a claim against the adoption agency. Those terrible people! They delayed the process, inventing red tape and administrative fees to extort more and more money from Samuel. Marcia’s case was so badly handled that when Samuel finally got custody, he sued the agency for emotional distress and damages.
“The judge found in their favour, but the agency declared itself bankrupt. Samuel didn’t mind about the money. He said he was happy no one else would suffer the way they had done. Then the whole situation got very ugly. The boss of this disgusting company, who made children’s and prospective parents’ lives a misery, threatened to take his revenge. He targeted Samuel in particular. It cast a dark cloud over the joy of bringing Marcia home.”
Ana stopped writing and stared at Olivia. “He threatened to hurt Samuel? When was this?”
“Almost three months ago. He threatened to do more than hurt him. He said he would take Marcia away and he promised to kill my brother.” She covered her face with her hands.
“Olivia, have you shared this with the police?”
She wiped away tears and met Ana’s gaze. “Nobody asked me. Do you think I should?”
“Listen, I need the name of this guy, the adoption agency and anything you can tell me about the court case. If you can give me everything you know in the next twenty minutes, I’ll make my flight. I’m heading north, to Gerês. I know someone who can help us both.”
Half an hour later, Ana dashed through Portela Airport and arrived at the check-in to find her flight had been delayed by ninety minutes. She checked in, sent Beatrice a message and found a quiet seat facing a wall. She opened her laptop and inserted earphones which weren’t connected to anything, but would ward off chatty fellow passengers. She had work to do and there was no such thing as wasted time.
Chapter 16
Beatrice knew from experience that in any investigation, the urge to get a result is like acid, eroding principles and burning its way through assumptions of moral superiority. When four upstanding officers of the law combine forces, no matter how informally, a code of conduct will be required. This is why investigative ethics are so important
But at Tuesday morning’s coffee break, while Roman charmed hotel security, Xavier bought the local police coffee and Cher spent every spare minute with André Monteiro, Beatrice looked the other way. After all, she would be fraternising with a journalist in a couple of hours, so who was she to judge? Instead, she walked the grounds, called Matthew in anticipation of their dinner party that evening and spent the time on a logical assessment of the circumstances. It didn’t help much.
She returned to the hotel for all the EPIC events of the day, her mind turning over each piece of evidence, even while attending a seminar on Big Data – Finding Needles in the Haystack. Her problem was the opposite. She and her impromptu team were searching for clues based on almost zero data. She cocked her head in a simulacrum of attentiveness and went over the facts again.
Clumsy window entry and fingerprints on the pane pointed to either an amateur burglary or a professional set-up. Every element of an interrupted burglary offered the local police an easy resolution.
Beatrice worked both theories. Two shots to the back of the head indicated a planned hit, not a disturbed burglar. This person gained access either via the window, a key or as a welcome guest. In the former two scenarios, someone had entered, waited and struck. In the latter, turning one’s back on a visitor seemed an unnatural thing to do.
So the Bond-style assassin theory gained the upper hand, but a huge gap of logic remained.
Motive.
Then there was the rumour. Ranga’s comments echoed in her mind. Word is, there’s a book ... due to expose, embarrass and possibly even indict senior officers across the continent. If Silva was connected, the international police convention could have been the opportunity to silence him, the book and its revelations.
If Silva was connected with the book at all. His work was professional research, not a vengeful memoir. He didn’t seem the type, based on Beatrice’s limited knowledge of the man, but she had only conversed with him for a few short hours.
A police detective would know every foolproof method of avoiding detection and how to throw enough circumstantial evidence to implicate someone else. Who would have known he would be in his room at that time? If Xavier had made his lunch invitation to the professor in public, any one of the seminar goers might have overheard. Then whoever it was could have preceded him before the doting family man made it back to his room to phone his wife.
When lunchtime rolled around, Beatrice ducked out of the seminar in full awareness she’d learned nothing about Big Data and it was all her own fault. Hurrying up the stairs to Xavier’s room for their previously agreed meeting, she checked her messages and cursed. She had hoped Ana would arrive in time to join them, but according to the latest message – ‘Sodding plane delayed. ETA circa 14.00.’ – the girl had just touched down in Porto.
Xavier opened the door and welcomed her in. Cher was sitting at the table, waiting. A deliciously fishy scent emanated from the silver cloches at each place setting.
“That smells heavenly!” Beatrice tossed her bag on the bed and joined Cher at the table. “Ana’s flight was delayed, so I’ll skip the first session of the afternoon and hang around to meet her. Where’s Roman?”
“Just gone back to his room for a shower,” said Xavier, pouring water into her glass.
“The man is obsessed!” exclaimed Beatrice. “How many times a day does he perform his ablutions?”
Cher laughed. “I’m pretty sure it’s only once. He overslept again this morning. He’d better hurry because I want to eat.”
