Free Death Trick by Roderic Jeffries Page A

days before, saying the señor wouldn’t be able to act for them any longer.’
    ‘Could you understand what Señor Braddon was saying?’
    ‘Not really. He was shouting too fast and a lot of the words I didn’t know.’
    ‘So you wouldn’t be able to say if he’d made any threats?’
    ‘It sounded as if it was nothing but threats.’
    ‘But you can’t be certain?’
    ‘No,’ she said reluctantly.
    ‘I’ve been chatting to various people and it seems Señor Roig was interested in property as well as doing his job here. D’you know for sure if that’s correct?’
    ‘It’s dead right.’
    ‘Presumably, it was only in a small way?’
    ‘Would you call La Portaña small?’
    He whistled. ‘I certainly would not. How deep was he in that?’
    ‘I can’t say. I mean, I never had anything really to do with that kind of work. But sometimes there’d be a telephone call and I’d hear . . .’ She stopped. ‘Well, I’d hear something before I could put the receiver down after switching the call through.’
    ‘Yes, of course.’ Alvarez sounded as if he accepted that anything she’d overheard had been done so inadvertently. ‘So you heard La Portaña mentioned—can you remember what was said?’
    ‘Only roughly, because they were talking in English and although I’m all right when people speak slowly and don’t get too complicated, I can get lost—like I was with Señor Braddon that time . . . The person on the other end of the line was saying something about the banks becoming worried over the money they’d lent on La Portaña and he couldn’t understand.’
    ‘Couldn’t understand what?’
    ‘I don’t really know. He began to speak really quickly. But it was something to do with where money had got to. And then Señor Roig said he’d have to get a folder and that meant his coming through here.’
    Alvarez pictured her hurriedly replacing the receiver before she was caught eavesdropping. ‘Do you know who the caller was?’
    ‘He didn’t give me his name; just said he wanted to speak to Señor Roig.’
    ‘And when he was put through, he didn’t identify himself?’
    ‘Yes, he did, but I don’t remember what he said; it wasn’t a name I’d heard before.’
    ‘Think back hard.’
    After a moment, she shook her head. ‘It’s no good. I mean, foreigners have such difficult names . . .’ She stopped.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Isn’t that odd? It’s funny how one’s mind works.’
    ‘You have remembered?’
    ‘Not exactly, but it was something like . . .’ It took her three attempts to say, ‘Gerry.’
     

 
CHAPTER 11
    The telephone rang and Alvarez lifted the receiver.
    ‘Forensic here, Inspector. Thought you’d like a preliminary report on the autopsy. The deceased was killed by a stab wound delivered by knife—not that there was ever any doubt on that score. Although we can never be certain, death was probably virtually instantaneous.
    ‘The knife used is shorter than the depth of the wound which suggests the upward blow was delivered with considerable force, compressing the wall of the body just below the ribs. In addition to this, the very ragged nature and width of the wound suggest that the knife was withdrawn, probably only partially, and then thrust home again at least once. In our opinion, this rules out any defence that death was not intended.
    ‘One more thing. I’ve had a word with the lab boys and they’ve asked me to pass on to you the fact that it’s confirmed that the only prints on the knife are those of the daily woman.’
    ‘Was the murderer wearing gloves, then?’
    ‘I gather, not necessarily. The knife has a thin handle, considering the length of the blade, and so the murderer’s fingers may well have wrapped right round it and the tips rested on the flesh of the hand.’
    ‘Anything to make things more difficult.’
    ‘That’s right,’ agreed the assistant unsympathetically.
    Alvarez stopped the car by a large hoarding on which blue letters against a