A Darker Night Page 3

  He looked at the DNI photo and then at the dead man. They matched. The house had recently been cleaned. There were no obvious signs of drink, drugs or violence. Max went back outside. The wall of the cave was freshly whitewashed. But beneath the paint, he could just make out some letters … ‘Asesino’.

  Max checked the ground outside the cave. A few yards from the door there was a pile of ash. He carefully scooped it up and put it in an evidence bag. It was too much ash to be a cigarette. It must be from a cigar. As he put the bag in his pocket, a car parked at the bottom of the path. Two uniformed police got out and started to walk uphill.

  ‘Joder!’ Max muttered. ‘It’s bloody Navarro.’

  They hadn’t exchanged a civil word since Navarro’s suspension.

  Before he reached the top of the path, Inspector Navarro had to pause for breath. His smooth jowly face was covered in sweat and his fat belly wobbled with the effort of the ascent. The younger guy, slim and very dark, had hardly noticed the climb.

  ‘What’s up, Romero?’

  ‘Inspector Navarro, sir. This gentleman is Señor Francisco Gómez. He says he heard a dog crying, came up to investigate, and found a body inside the cave. He tried to revive the casualty, but without success.’

  ‘So how come you and this lady are here, Romero?’

  ‘My friend Belinda and I were passing below with other members of our walking group. She too heard a dog crying, came to help it, and found Señor Gómez and the dead man. I’ve checked for vital signs but there’s no pulse and no breath. There are no signs of violence, as far as I can tell.’

  Navarro grunted, and turned to Francisco Gómez. ‘Why did you come up here? This valley must be full of yelping dogs.’

  ‘I can’t bear to hear a dog crying.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Navarro. ‘So why didn’t you phone us when you found the body?’

  ‘I couldn’t get a signal in these hills. But then Belinda and Max turned up and Max phoned police headquarters.’

  ‘So you two know one another?’ Navarro asked Max.

  ‘Not really. Francisco’s a friend of some of the folk in my walking group.’

  ‘So where’s the rest of this group, then?’

  ‘They went on ahead, and were going to wait for us in Casa Juanillo.’

  ‘Okay. We’ll want statements from all three of you, and the names of everyone in the walking group.’

  Max and the two other cops entered the cave. Navarro bent down, and carefully examined the body.

  ‘He is definitely dead. A gitano. Probably an overdose.’

  ‘I’ve been through his pockets. His wallet with his DNI card was in the bottom drawer of that chest over there,’ said Max. ‘His name is Francisco Javier Maya Fuentes. It looks like he was known as Paco.’

  ‘I hope you haven’t damaged any evidence.’

  ‘Of course I haven’t,’ said Max indignantly. ‘And I had gloves on.’

  ‘This isn’t going to look good on my report, Romero. Did you tell the others not to touch anything?’

  ‘Of course I did. But Señor Gómez may have touched a few things earlier. He attempted first aid when he found the body.’

  Navarro glanced round the room. ‘Nothing valuable here, is there? What a dump. Even if you’ve got no money, you’ve no need to live in a bloody cave!’

  Max made no reply.

  Navarro looked round again. ‘Nothing much,’ he said. ‘I’ll take a quick look outside. Okay, Belén,’ he said, turning to the younger cop. ‘Cordon this place off and take down their statements. And you three, empty all your pockets and bags.’

  ‘Right,’ said Belén. ‘Names? DNI?’

  ‘Sub-Inspector Max Romero. Policía Nacional, Granada.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry, señor,’ said Belén hurriedly. ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ said Max. ‘New to the force?’

  ‘Just a couple of days.’

  Belén glanced at Max’s stuff. Cash. Inhaler. Keys. Chocolate. Water. Sunhat.

  ‘That’s fine. Gracias.’

  Belén then moved on to Francisco, took his statement, and went through the pile of items he had put on the ground. ‘Lots of seeds you have here.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Francisco. ‘These are tree seeds, and those are wild flowers. I like to scatter them when I go for a walk. Anywhere that’s bare or bulldozed. And I always have a bit of string with me to tie wild herbs together if I find any.’

  ‘And this is your purse?’ asked Belén, pointing to a small, red leather purse with an embroidered flower decoration.

  ‘Sí,’ replied Francisco. ‘I keep my change in it, and a few euro notes. My niece gave it to me.’

  ‘Do you mind opening it?’

  Francisco opened it, and took out a ten-euro note, some coins, and a small photo.

  ‘Very pretty,’ commented Belén. ‘A dancer. Your niece?’

  ‘Sí,’ replied Francisco.

  As Sub-Inspector Belén finished taking Belinda’s statement, the ambulance arrived, followed by Forensics, and then the duty judge, the juez de investigatión. They all walked together up the hill. The judge, a young man in his mid-thirties and almost completely bald, introduced himself: ‘Juez Emilio Martínez.’

  ‘Inspector Ernesto Navarro. I’m the officer in charge. This is Sub-Inspector Belén. And this is Sub-Inspector Max Romero who just happened to be passing by below with his English friend here, Señora Belinda. They heard a dog yelping and came to investigate, and found this young man, Francisco Gómez, inside the cave with a dead body. Señor Francisco claims he too heard a dog crying, came to investigate and found the dead man.’

  ‘I see. And who informed the police?’

  ‘Sub-Inspector Romero did. Señor Gómez claims he tried, but couldn’t get a signal.’

  ‘Right. What have you got?’

  ‘Looks like another bloody gypsy. Probably an overdose. No big deal.’

  ‘That’s for me to decide,’ said the judge. ‘I’ll go and have a look.’

  Ten minutes later the judge emerged from the cave house and examined the outside wall of the cave closely. ‘Asesino. I don’t like that. Looks recent.’

  He turned briskly to Navarro. ‘There are a number of things I’m unhappy about. Treat this as a crime scene … I want a full set of photographs, fingerprints and footprints, plus everything I consider to be relevant documented and taken away for further examination.’

  The technicians went about their business with quiet efficiency. Francisco sat outside the cave comforting the dog, while Belinda watched everyone and everything with fascinated interest.

  The supervisor of the Forensics team emerged from the cave.

  ‘What’s the story?’ asked the judge.

  ‘It’s too early to be sure, but the death’s recent. Probably between half an hour and two hours before we took the body temperature. We may get something better from the autopsy … but I can’t guarantee that.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘There are signs of lividity – slight discoloration on buttocks and arms – so that suggests something between thirty minutes and two hours as well.’

  ‘All right,’ said the judge. ‘I’ll sign the order for the removal of the body. You can take it away as soon as you like now.’

  He turned to Inspector Navarro. ‘That’s it for now. I’ll be opening a case file.’

  Inspector Navarro motioned to Sub-Inspector Belén. ‘Okay, Belén. You take the DNI and check out the next of kin. Get someone on a doorstep tonight or tomorrow. Doubt if anyone’s going to lose sleep over this guy though. Romero, anything else from you?’

  Max flushed with annoyance. ‘Just this one thing. I found what I think might be cigar ash over there. I’ve bagged it.’

  ‘Bit slow giving this over, weren’t you?’ Navarro grunted.

  Max did not reply.

  ‘What about the dog?’ asked Francisco. ‘The dog’s injured; he’s been kicked.’

  ‘So what’s new? Gitano
s kick their dogs all the time,’ commented Navarro.

  ‘Not in my experience,’ said Francisco.

  The dog looked up at the judge.

  ‘Bueno. Let’s get the dog to a vet for an examination. We might learn something.’

  ‘What the –!’ exclaimed Navarro. ‘Who the hell is going to pay for it?’

  ‘I would have thought your department, officer,’ said the judge pleasantly.

  They all set off down the path. Navarro went straight into his car with Belén, and drove off at speed.

  ‘Not very polite, that Inspector Navarro,’ said the judge.

  ‘Sí,’ said Max.

  ‘Do any of you need a lift back to Granada?’

  ‘That’s kind of you, señor.’

  ‘Un momento.’ The judge looked around carefully at the patch of ground where the police vehicles had been parked. ‘What do you make of this, Max?’

  ‘There have definitely been other vehicles along here. It’s all a bit confused, but those could be 4×4 tracks … a motorbike, and those are bicycles.’

  ‘This should have been cordoned off as well. I need more pictures. I’ll get Forensics back out.’

  ‘It looks like rain. We could lose all the evidence if it does. Let’s take some photos.’

  Max borrowed Belinda’s camera and took pictures.

  ‘It’s only one of those cheap disposable ones, Max. Will the pictures be good enough?’

  ‘It’ll have to do,’ he said. ‘Anyway, the lab guys can work miracles.’

  Max got in the vehicle beside the judge, while Belinda, Francisco and the dog squeezed into the back seat.

  ‘Are you new to Granada?’ Max asked the judge. ‘I don’t think we’ve met before.’

  ‘Just started here. My first case, you know. In fact, I’ve just started practising. My first case after years of useless learning by heart to become a judge.’ He laughed. ‘I got so nervous and frustrated with the process … well … my hair fell out. But I’m determined to treat all of the dead equally. So I’ll make sure this case is handled thoroughly.’

  Max smiled.

  ‘I’ll take the young man and the dog to the vet. Where can I drop you off?’

  ‘The entrance to the Albayzín will be fine for Belinda and me. We can walk from there.’

  The car stopped at the little Plaza del Horno.

  ‘Belinda, sorry you missed lunch. I can make us a sandwich in my flat if you like.’

  ‘Thanks, Max, but I’m shattered. Another day.’

  ‘Are you still on for the Paso de los Gitanos on Wednesday?’

  ‘Of course. That Navarro is a nasty piece of work. He doesn’t like you, does he?’

  ‘I complained once about how he treated a suspect, and he was suspended. He hates my guts. And the feeling is mutual.’

  Chapter 4

  The bells of Santa Ana rang out, long and loud. A minute later, the bells of Santa María de la Alhambra replied from the Alhambra hill. But no matter what the day, the bells always got Max to his desk before Inspector Jefe Davila arrived.

  ‘You still on duty, Pedro?’

  ‘On for the whole damn weekend. I won’t even get to see the match tonight. But Málaga’s going to get shafted. And Barça won’t be able to catch up with Real. No chance.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Max. ‘Barça always comes through at the end.’

  ‘Not this time, hombre. Have you managed to sort out that gypsy death?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘It’ll be drink or drugs. Mark my words.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Max went to his office. Paperwork took up the whole morning. Just before lunch, his phone rang. It was Chief Inspector Davila’s secretary, Clara Flores.

  ‘Hola, Max.’

  ‘Clara. How you doing?’

  ‘Fine, Max. Bien gracias. But Señora Davila is being a pain. She can’t go to her hairdresser’s without phoning the boss twice. I’m sure he spends more time talking to her than the rest of the force put together.’

  Max laughed.

  ‘The boss wants to see you after lunch. He’s taking long lunches these days. And he’s spruced himself up no end. Expensive shoes and shirts, new watch. I suspect something’s up. There’s a woman.’

  ‘You can’t be serious, Clara. No woman would look twice at him.’

  ‘Some can be desperate, you know.’

  ‘Unlike you.’

  ‘Well, Max, if you have it, there’s no need to flaunt it.’

  Max laughed. ‘Vale, guapetona. I’ll be over at five.’

  After lunch, more paperwork. At ten past five, he was in Clara’s office, still waiting patiently for the great man.

  Clara looked up from the pile of forms that she was checking.

  ‘Sorry, Max, I don’t know what has kept him,’ she said. ‘I tell you, he never used to come back this late. Looks fishy.’

  Max smiled.

  ‘I tell you, something’s up. I can smell good cognac on his breath. And you know what a skinflint he is.’

  There was the sound of running water from the washroom.

  She cocked her head to one side. ‘That’s him back. He always drinks a glass of water now, and cleans his teeth. And then he phones the lady wife. You don’t do that unless you’re having an affair.’

  ‘How do you know about that?’ asked Max accusingly.

  ‘It’s what all the psychologists say,’ she said, pointing to a pile of glossy magazines beside her desk. ‘You should read these. You’d learn a lot about real life.’

  The phone rang. Clara picked it up. ‘Okay. You can go in now.’

  Chief Inspector Davila was sitting behind his desk, absorbed in a file as if he’d been there for the last hour. After a minute or two, he looked up.

  ‘Ah, Romero. Sit down. I have a note here from Inspector Navarro. This gypsy death. I’m not happy about the fact that you waded in before the duty officer arrived.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, I just thought –’

  ‘Well, next time don’t think. Follow the rules. You should know the procedure by now. The body wasn’t exactly going to vanish into thin air. And another thing. Navarro complained about you being slow in handing over some evidence.’

  ‘Not true, sir,’ said Max. ‘Just an oversight on my part.’

  ‘Romero, do I have to remind you that you’ve got your Promotion Board coming up next month? Stop messing about.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

  ‘Sorry’s not good enough. I want to see a complete change of attitude. You’re a poor team player. Our first rule is to support and cooperate fully with our fellow officers, no matter the circumstances. Is that understood?’

  ‘Sí, señor.’

  ‘And I have here a note from Judge … uhm …’ Davila glanced at his files. ‘Martínez. New chap, clearly no experience. He says that some details require further investigation. Something about a chair, a guitar, and the position of the body. He says he’s opening a case file. Got a bee in his bonnet about foul play. Dickhead.’

  Max said nothing.

  ‘Bloody nuisance.’ Davila sniffed, unfolded an immaculate cotton handkerchief, and wiped his nose. ‘I hope this chap’s not one of these new liberal types. Our judges have always represented the true Spain.’

  ‘What would you like me to do, sir?’

  ‘Do? As it’s a new judge, I’ll take full charge of this case. But you, my friend, will do all the legwork. And that gives you a chance to get your act together. You’ll report first to Navarro. And if anything odd crops up, bring it to me at once. Remember your promotion is on the line. Understood?’

  ‘Sí.’

  ‘Sí, what?’

  ‘Sí, Inspector Jefe. Fully understood.’

  ‘Oh. One more thing. The judge has something here about a dog … taking it to the vet?’

  ‘Sí, señor. There was a dog at the scene of the incident when we arrived, and it had been injured. The judge requested that the dog be taken to a vet, and he w
ants a full copy of the vet’s report on the nature of its injuries.’

  ‘He what? What sort of idiota is this judge? And who, pray, is paying the vet’s bill?’

  ‘The judge thought our department would, sir.’

  ‘He did, did he? We’ll see about that. I have a feeling about this new judge. I don’t think he’s going to last too long here in Granada. This is a conservative town, Romero. Never forget that. Pay for a vet indeed.’

  ‘Is that all, sir?’

  ‘Yes. Just watch your step.’

  ‘You look a bit down,’ said Clara, as Max passed her desk

  ‘No. Didn’t go well. Promotion’s on the line.’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t get it up. Wait till next time.’

  Max grunted and returned to his office. He phoned Forensics, and asked for the Chief Forensics Officer, Dr Guillermo Arroyo. He was a grumpy old bastard, but he and Max got on.

  ‘Whatever you want, it’s not done yet! Do you have any idea how busy we are?’

  ‘I do, Guillermo. I just wondered how you were getting on with the Maya autopsy?’

  The voice softened. ‘Oh, is that you, Max? Just got in, and the phone’s never stopped. Everyone thinks we can do miracles here. Maya, did you say? Che told me a quickie would be fine.’

  ‘Oh, did he now? Bloody Navarro. Have you done it?’

  ‘No, no time.’

  ‘Could you find some time? We’ve got a new judge on the case, and he’s keen as mustard. And I’ve got some concerns as well. Can you make it a full autopsy?’

  ‘You should see our workload. Okay, Max, we might have it done by Wednesday. No promises, mind you.’

  ‘Gracias, Guillermo.’

  ‘Remember, you owe me one.’

  ‘I’ll remember.’

  Max looked at his watch. There was still sufficient light to return to the gypsy’s cave. And it was probably a good time to find some of the neighbours in. Whether they were willing to talk or not was another matter.

  Max parked his car at the end of the Sacromonte road, and climbed up to the cave. The police padlock on the cave door was still intact. If that really was cigar ash he’d found, then there should be a cigar stub somewhere. He searched, but there was no sign anywhere of a stub. He poked around in a pile of debris at the side of the vegetable plot. Then he noticed it: caught between two dry leaves, a cigarette stub, filter-tipped. So maybe the dead man did smoke. Cigarettes. There was probably nothing suspicious about the ash after all. Max put the cigarette stub in an evidence bag, and walked back down to the main track.