Free Troubled Deaths by Roderic Jeffries

I am not a stupid fool. So every time Lopez picks and brings me esclatasangs, which the señor liked so much, I checked every one to make certain there was no Uargsomi, even though Lopez would never pick one by mistake.’ She leaned forward, her expression becoming still more earnest. ‘Señor, I am of this island even though I came from the other end. Could any islander handle esclatasangs and not check that there were no llargsomis among them?’
    ‘Perhaps there are times, though, when one is not quite so careful because one is in a great hurry, or has a very bad headache . . .’
    ‘I am not lazy, I did not hurry, I did not have a headache. I tell you, there was no Uargsomi.’
    ‘But if not, how did the señor come to eat one and die?’
    ‘I do not know. Perhaps God, to punish his wickedness, changed an esclatasang into a Uargsomi.’
    It was a fascinating idea, but one which Alvarez regretfully thought unlikely. ‘I’ll have to find something definite to tell my superior chief, but so far all I’ve learned is that it couldn’t have happened.’ He stood up. ‘Is Orozco, the gardener, here today?’
    ‘He has all the Sundays off.’ She spoke shortly.
    He smiled at her. ‘I believe you absolutely, señora. But my superior chief comes from Madrid and he will believe no one without complete proof, not even himself . . . Thanks for the coffee.’ He went out of the kitchen into the courtyard and she followed him. The dog which had been lying down in the sun in front of its kennel stood up, barked twice, and hopefully wagged its tail. ‘What’s his name?’ asked Alvarez.
    ‘Cheetah. He was abandoned and when Luis found him his ribs were almost out of the skin. Luis said he should be killed, but I said no, I would make him well. So now look at him! As fat as a pig that’s ready for a matanzas.’
    Alvarez crossed the courtyard and patted the dog’s head and fondled his ears. A car came along the dirt track, turned into the drive and then braked to a stop in front of the courtyard. ‘It is the señorita,’ said Matilde in a low voice. ‘She came here on Thursday and saw the señor . . .’ She stopped.
    He watched an ungainly woman, a plastic bag in her hand, climb out and come round the bonnet. ‘What did she see the señor doing?’
    ‘1 cannot say it.’
    Caroline got out of the near side and as she stood upright Alvarez stared at her and he fell in love.
    Mabel came forward, walking hesitantly. ‘Hullo, Matilde,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’ve brought some scraps for Cheetah.’ The dog might have understood her because it began to pant and its tail wagged furiously. Mabel opened the bag and spilled the contents on to the flagstones and the dog ate with noisy gusto.
    It wasn’t her looks, thought Alvarez with bewilderment, although she was as beautiful as an orange grove at blossom time. It wasn’t that she promised that ripe, earthy experience which twisted a man’s soul - she didn’t. It was because there was an air of simple goodness about her which reminded him with aching intensity of Juana-Maria.
    ‘When I saw those scraps were left. . .’ Mabel stopped, then resumed speaking very hurriedly. ‘It would have been such a shame to waste them . . . So I thought . . .’ She suddenly sneezed several times.
    Caroline spoke lightly, trying to lessen the air of emotion which Mabel had introduced. ‘You’re quite right, Mabel, he really does eat like a vacuum cleaner.’
    Matilde, who understood more English than she spoke, said: ‘I feed him good, señorita.’
    ‘I can see you look after him really well,’ said Caroline quickly. She smiled at Matilde. ‘He’s in wonderful condition. It’s just that some dogs always eat very quickly, even when they’ve only just had a meal. Cheetah is obvously one of those.’
    She’d gone out of her way not to hurt Matilde’s feelings by making it clear that they didn’t believe that the dog wasn’t being fed properly, thought Alvarez, yet