Quintin Jardine - Blood Red

When we got back home he asked if I’d go to the beach with him. It was a little windy, but I took a sun lounger and sat under a mushroom-shaped parasol, watching him in the water, but thinking at the same time. Finally, because I could come up with nothing else to do, I rang the residence again. This time Father Olivares answered in person. I wondered whether he’d want to speak to me, but he actually seemed pleased that I’d called. The old chap was as distressed as I was, but he didn’t have to hide the fact from anyone.

‘This is madness,’ I said to him. ‘Do you know what’s possessed them?’

‘Or is it him who’s possessed?’ he countered. ‘They said when they came to arrest him that they have clear evidence.’

‘You were there when he was taken away?’

‘Yes. It was people I didn’t know. They came to our house in uniform and with guns, and asked for him. They said that they had very clear evidence that linked him with both murders. At first, he seemed amused. He laughed at them and told them that they were making it up, but they said that they could prove with science that he had been at José-Luis’s house, at the place where Dolores Fumado was found, and in her car. They could prove it, categorically, they insisted. They said that he would be charged with murder and with attempting to implicate you, by putting the poor woman’s body in your house, to be found.’

‘How did he react to that?’

‘He said to them, “You can actually prove that?” and they replied, “Absolutely.” With that his attitude changed. “Then do so,” he said, “for I’ll be saying nothing.” So they took him away, to Girona, in a closed van. But before he left, he did say one more thing, to me, very quietly. He asked me to say to you, Primavera, that he was sorry, but he could do nothing else. He admitted it, my dear. I am so sorry. I know what you have come to feel for him, and I’d begun to suspect that he had the same regard for you. But no, it seems that he’s betrayed us all.’

I don’t think I’ve ever heard such despair as that which sounded in the old man’s voice. For a moment, I found myself accepting what he was saying. . until I told him, ‘No! I will not believe that, never. I don’t care what they say, there is another explanation. A week ago, those people, or others like them, claimed to have proof that I committed these crimes. Gerard didn’t believe it then, as I don’t believe it now. I’m going to get him out of this.’

‘But if their evidence is as strong as they say. .’

‘Let’s see what a lawyer thinks of it. Will the church appoint someone to act for him?’

‘My dear, the church is not used to having its priests accused of murder. There isn’t a precedent for this. It will need to be considered.’

I could hear the mills of God grinding, exceedingly slowly. ‘We don’t have time for that. Father, you’ve been here for a long time. Who’s the best advocate in this area?’

‘From what I’ve heard, that would be Josep Villamas. He has an office in Figueras, and he’s very well known in the courts. He lives in L’Escala; he’s a member of my congregation.’

‘Can you give me a number for him? I’d look it up myself, but I’m on the beach with my son.’

‘I think so. Give me a moment.’ I waited, listening to a rustling of paper in the background. ‘Yes,’ he said finally, then gave me two numbers, one local, the other, by its prefix, the office in Figueras. I keyed both into the memory of my phone. ‘Thanks, Father. I’m going to call him right now and instruct him.’

‘He’ll be expensive,’ the old man warned. ‘We priests are poor men, and there’s no guarantee that the bishop will agree to meet the cost, whatever the temptation to which Gerard may have succumbed.’

‘Cost isn’t an issue,’ I told him. ‘When I have something positive to tell you, I’ll let you know. You’ll be at home, yes.’

‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘Apart from this evening, and tomorrow, of course.’

‘What happens then?’

‘Dolores Fumado’s funeral is tomorrow morning. It’s at eleven.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘The body is being released to Justine and Elena this morning; it will be received into the church this evening.’

‘Then let’s hope we can put this nonsense to bed in time for Gerard to assist you at the requiem Mass.’

‘You are one of life’s optimists, my dear.’

‘I wasn’t a week ago; that’s something else I owe to him.’

He wished me good luck, but he still sounded low.

Tom wanted me to come into the water with him, but I told him I wasn’t swimming that day. He knows that sometimes I don’t, and he never asks why. Instead I called the Figueras number. A woman answered, in Catalan. I gave her my name and asked if I could speak to her boss. I expected her to ask me what I wanted, but she put me straight through.

I got down to business. No time for pleasantries; with lawyers the clock is always ticking. ‘Senor Villamas, I want to instruct you to undertake the defence of my friend Gerard Hernanz. He was arrested early this morning, and is being charged with two murders.’

‘And with fabricating evidence against you, Senora Blackstone,’ the advocate added, in a deep rolling voice; he sounded as Morgan Freeman would if he spoke Catalan. (Maybe old Morgan does: I don’t know.)

‘So you’ve heard what’s happened?’

‘Yes, I was told a few hours ago. When I learned of it I went straight to Girona, and offered my services to Father Hernanz. I know the man. He’s heard my confession, often. I like him very much, and I could not credit what I’d been told. He refused to see me; a policeman came to tell me that he’d said he didn’t want a lawyer, and that if one was appointed by the court, he’d refuse to cooperate with him. To be frank, I didn’t believe the officer, and I told him as much. I threatened to go straight to the court to demand access. He went away and returned a few minutes later with a handwritten note from Father Hernanz confirming what he had said the first time. And more; the message said that if I was asked to act for someone else in this matter. . I suspect that he meant you. . it would serve no purpose. He said that if the police have evidence against him, they can present it. He’ll let God defend him, and judge him.’

‘Does God have a law degree?’ I exploded. ‘Does he have much experience on the Bench? I’m sorry, Senor Villamas,’ I added at once. ‘I’m not getting at you. It’s just that he’s so. .’

‘Resigned, I’m afraid,’ the lawyer said. ‘He seems to be accepting his guilt.’

‘Well, I won’t,’ I declared.

‘You may have no choice. After I’d left the police officer, I spoke to the prosecutor. I know the man; he’s very experienced, very capable and he’s in no doubt that he’ll secure a conviction. I’m sorry, I wish I could help, but other than appearing as a character witness when it comes to sentencing, there’s nothing I can do.’

What the hell is he thinking about? He was all that I could think about, as I lay on the lounger, propped up on my elbows, keeping an eye on Tom as he tried to catch a cresting wave with his mini surfboard. The whole thing was fantastic. Why would Gerard want to kill Planas? What possible reason could he have? The man had called you a whore, and you told him that over dinner . So what? Is that a reason to kill a man? What did he do when Irena was attacked? That was years ago, and it was rape, a far different thing. Unless, in his eyes, it was an insult he couldn’t tolerate . ‘Rubbish, Primavera,’ I said aloud. And then I remembered anew what he’d said in La Lluna and I shuddered.

‘ As for calling you a whore, if he was a younger man, I would take off my collar and meet him after dark. ’