Cocaine Nights - Ballard James Graham (бесплатные серии книг txt) 📗

'Of course, Inspector. Perhaps I'll see him a few days from now. I'm extremely busy here, as you know. I'm not just the manager of the club, but Mrs Shand's agent in general.'

'Her representative in limbo.' Cabrera stood up and let me take my chair. He looked down at the packed bar tables and then sat on my desk, a deliberate territorial intrusion that shut off my view of the pool. Memories of seminars on sibling rivalry moved across his untrusting eyes. 'Still, not to see your brother since your meeting in Marbella -people might assume that you accept his guilt.'

'Not at all. I'm convinced he's innocent. I spent weeks investigating the case, and I'm certain he didn't kill the Hollingers. Remember, he refused to see me when I first came to Estrella de Mar. Besides…'

'There are problems between you?' Cabrera nodded sagely. 'You told me once about your mother. Certain feelings of guilt tied you together, and now you feel the bonds are looser?'

'Well put, Inspector. In a way Estrella de Mar has been a liberation from the past.'

'And the Residencia Costasol even more so? There's a different ecology here, and you feel free of constraint. Perhaps the Hollinger deaths unlocked certain doors. It's a pity you cannot thank your brother for that.'

'Well…' I tried to sidestep Cabrera's devious logic. 'One hesitates to say it, but these dreadful tragedies have their positive side. Since the Hollinger fire people are much more alert to what is going on, even here in the Residencia. There are neighbourhood watch schemes and security patrols.'

'Security patrols?' Cabrera seemed surprised, sensing that his monopoly of law enforcement was threatened. 'Is there much crime in the Residencia?'

'Of course… well, I mean, no.' I hunted for a handkerchief, glad to hide my face for even a few moments, wondering if Cabrera had been tipped off that I chauffeured Bobby Crawford around the complex. 'One or two cars have been stolen – probably borrowed, in fact, after late-night parties.'

'And burglaries, house thefts…?'

'I don't think so. Have any been reported?'

'Very few. One or two in the early days, but then silence. Your arrival here had a calming effect.'

'Good. I've tried to keep an eye on things.'

'Yet my men tell me there's much evidence of burglary, damage to cars, your brother's yacht burned in a spectacular way. Why should no one report these crimes?'

'I can't say. The British are a self-reliant people, Inspector. Living in a foreign country where few of them speak the language, they prefer to solve the crime problem themselves.'

'And perhaps they enjoy it?'

'Very likely. Crime prevention does have a social role.'

'And crime, also. You spend much time with Mr Crawford-what is his position at the club?'

'He's the chief tennis coach, the same post he held at the Club Nautico.'

'Good.' Cabrera moved his arms through the air, as if scything the deep grass that grew invisibly around my desk. 'Perhaps he will give me a lesson. I have to ask him about certain matters-the burning of the speedboat at Estrella de Mar. The owners in Marbella have hired some investigators. There are other questions 'Of a criminal nature?'

'Perhaps. Mr Crawford is a man of such energy. He touches everything with his excitement and sometimes leaves his fingerprints.'

'I don't think you'll find his prints here, Inspector.' I stood up with some relief as Cabrera moved towards the door. 'Mr Crawford is not a selfish man. He would never take part in criminal activity for his own gain.'

'Completely true. He has accounts with many banks, and almost no money. But if not for his own gain, perhaps for the community's?' Cabrera stood at the door, watching me with an almost over-studied show of sympathy. 'You defend him, Mr Prentice, but think of your brother. Even if Estrella de Mar has set you free, you cannot stay here for ever. One day you will go back to London, and you may again need that guilt you shared. Visit your brother before the trial I waited by the main gates while the security guard logged the licence number of the Citroen into his computer, and remembered my first arrival at Gibraltar and the border crossing into Spain. Whenever I left the Residencia I seemed to cross a far more tangible frontier, as if the complex constituted a private kingdom with its own currencies of mind and meaning. As I turned on to the coast road I could see the pueblos stretching along the shore towards Marbella, immobile as chalk tombs in their whiteness. By contrast the Residencia Costasol had returned to life, to a realm of aroused emotions and woken dreams.

But Cabrera had unnerved me, as if he had read the secret script that Crawford had written and was aware of the role assigned to me. I tried to calm myself by looking at the sea, at the long Une of white-capped waves that rolled in from Africa. I had wilfully forgotten Frank, pushing him and his absurd confession into a side corridor of my mind. In this new and more bracing air I was free of the restraints that had hobbled me since childhood, and ready to face myself afresh without fear.

The corniche road forked, the beachward arm running to the marina of Estrella de Mar and the waterfront bars and restaurants. I turned towards the Plaza Iglesias, and climbed the steep avenue to the Club Nautico. Above me the burnt-out shell of the Hollinger mansion presided over the peninsula. A bonfire of private sub-poenas had taken place among its charred timbers, a tinder-blaze of those warrants we issue against ourselves, now never to be served and left to gather dust in their closed files.

'Paula…? God, you startled me…'

She had been waiting in the bedroom after letting herself into the apartment with Frank's keys. She stepped on to the balcony and touched my shoulder as I leaned on the rail.

'I'm sorry. I wanted to see you before you left.' She tried to smooth the ruched sleeves of her white blouse. 'David Hennessy tells me you're moving your things to the Residencia.'

She stood beside me, one hand on my wrist, as if trying to take my pulse. Her hair stretched tightly from her forehead, tied in a severe black bow, and she had lavished mascara and lipstick on her face in a clear attempt to stiffen her morale. Through the bedroom door I could see the impress of her hips and shoulders in the silk counterpane, and guessed that she had decided to lie there for the last time, head against the pillows she had shared with Frank.

'Betty Shand's rented a house for me,' I told her. 'It saves me driving to and fro every day. Besides, Frank will soon be back here, once he's acquitted.'

Eyes lowered, she shook her head at this, like a tired doctor with a stubborn patient rationalizing away his symptoms. 'I'm glad you think he'll be acquitted. Does Senor Danvila agree with you?'

'I've no idea. Believe me, they won't convict Frank – the evidence against him is so flimsy. A bottle of ether planted in his car…'

'They don't need any evidence. Frank is still pleading guilty. I saw him yesterday – he sent his love. It's a pity you won't visit him. You might persuade him to change his mind.'

'Paula…' I turned and held her shoulders, trying to revive her. 'It won't happen. I'm sorry I haven't seen Frank. I know it looks odd – Cabrera assumes I think he's guilty.'

'Do you?'

'No. That isn't the reason. We went through too much together, for years we were trapped by our childhoods. Frank keeps me locked into all those memories.'

'You're leaving the apartment so you can forget about Frank?' Paula laughed flatly to herself. 'When he starts his thirty-year sentence you'll finally be free.'

'That's unfair…' I stepped into the bedroom and took my cases from the sports equipment cupboard. Her back to the sunlight, Paula clasped her hands and watched me lay my suits across the bed. For once she seemed to lack confidence in herself. I wanted to embrace her, place my arm around her hips and lift her on to the bed, laying her in the scented mould she had left of herself. I still hoped to make love to her again, but the video-cassette had come between us. I had seen her almost naked as she filmed the rape scene, and she had decided never to appear naked before me again.