Read Online Troubled Deaths by Roderic Jeffries - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roderic Jeffries
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how an Englishman could have eaten a llargsomi when Orozco and Matilde swore blind that in the kitchen there had been only esclatasangs.
He crossed the sitting-room and went through into the kitchen. ‘Juan, that was a call telling me I’ve got to work today. So the trip to the beach is off unless I can wrap up everything before the afternoon.’
After breakfast he drove into the square, which for the morning was ringed by ‘No Entry’ signs, and parked by the steps.
The raised part of the square was a mass of people and stalls selling all the vegetables in season, and some imported from the Peninsula or the Canary Islands which were out of season, nuts, cheese, eggs, dried herbs, and bedding-out plants. He pushed his way through the crowd to the church, against the wall of which was a barrow selling sweets. He chose several packets of the more sickly-looking kind which he knew his nephew and niece liked, then walked past the cafe - this one was patronized far more by the locals than the one on the south-east side of the square - and along to a toy shop where he spent quite a long time deciding which two toys to buy. That done, he returned to the Club Llueso and had two brandies.
He drove out of town and along the Puerto road to the islands and there cut up past the new football ground to the camino and Ca’n Ritat.
Matilde was in the kitchen, washing down the tiled floor which was spotless. She was clearly glad to have someone to talk to and she offered him a coffee.
He sat at the table set close to the far wall and while she made the coffee he stared at all the electrical equipment and wondered what it could do that an efficient wife couldn’t. And what happened when there was a power cut?
She poured out two large cupfuls of coffee and put one in front of him, together with milk in a plastic bottle and sugar in a bowl. C I can’t get used to it,’ she said, as she sat. ‘I mean, not having to get his breakfast and find out what he wants for lunch and all that sort of thing.’
‘Have you any idea what’s going to happen here?’
She shook her head.
‘Are you sorry this job will come to an end?’
She pursed her lips. ‘Luis will be. But I didn’t like the way the señor entertained.’
‘Because it made your work so hard?’
‘Not that. Hard work’s never worried me.’
‘Then it was all the women he had along?’
‘That’s right.’
‘It must have been upsetting for someone like you, señora, but the English have very different standards from us.’
‘How can women behave like that? And some of them were even married!’ She spoke with genuine amazement. She knew only virtuous women who honoured their marriages.
He stirred sugar into his coffee and drank. ‘Did he ever have his family along: you know, parents, brothers, and sisters?’
‘Never once, not all the time we worked here.’
‘Which is how long?’
‘Just about three years.’
The English seemed to take their family ties about as seriously as their marriage vows. ‘All in all, would you have called it a good job?’
‘I suppose it wasn’t too bad. We had Monday afternoon and evenings off and one week-end in four. And if one or other of us wanted an extra day, he usually gave it to us unless he was in a mood. You could find worse jobs and that’s a fact. Except for all the women. He was a . . . But he’s dead now, God rest his soul.’
‘Perhaps He will. I was once told that the English God is very generous . . . Look, we’ve heard today that he definitely died from eating a Uargsomi and I’ve been ordered to find out how it happened. You must have thought about things a lot since yesterday. Are you quite sure you didn’t make a mistake and let a Uargsomi through?’ He motioned with his hand. ‘Don’t get anything wrong. No one’s going to clap you in jail because you made a mistake. It can happen anytime, to anyone.’
‘There was no Uargsomi among the esclatasangs,’ she said forcefully. ‘Señor,
He crossed the sitting-room and went through into the kitchen. ‘Juan, that was a call telling me I’ve got to work today. So the trip to the beach is off unless I can wrap up everything before the afternoon.’
After breakfast he drove into the square, which for the morning was ringed by ‘No Entry’ signs, and parked by the steps.
The raised part of the square was a mass of people and stalls selling all the vegetables in season, and some imported from the Peninsula or the Canary Islands which were out of season, nuts, cheese, eggs, dried herbs, and bedding-out plants. He pushed his way through the crowd to the church, against the wall of which was a barrow selling sweets. He chose several packets of the more sickly-looking kind which he knew his nephew and niece liked, then walked past the cafe - this one was patronized far more by the locals than the one on the south-east side of the square - and along to a toy shop where he spent quite a long time deciding which two toys to buy. That done, he returned to the Club Llueso and had two brandies.
He drove out of town and along the Puerto road to the islands and there cut up past the new football ground to the camino and Ca’n Ritat.
Matilde was in the kitchen, washing down the tiled floor which was spotless. She was clearly glad to have someone to talk to and she offered him a coffee.
He sat at the table set close to the far wall and while she made the coffee he stared at all the electrical equipment and wondered what it could do that an efficient wife couldn’t. And what happened when there was a power cut?
She poured out two large cupfuls of coffee and put one in front of him, together with milk in a plastic bottle and sugar in a bowl. C I can’t get used to it,’ she said, as she sat. ‘I mean, not having to get his breakfast and find out what he wants for lunch and all that sort of thing.’
‘Have you any idea what’s going to happen here?’
She shook her head.
‘Are you sorry this job will come to an end?’
She pursed her lips. ‘Luis will be. But I didn’t like the way the señor entertained.’
‘Because it made your work so hard?’
‘Not that. Hard work’s never worried me.’
‘Then it was all the women he had along?’
‘That’s right.’
‘It must have been upsetting for someone like you, señora, but the English have very different standards from us.’
‘How can women behave like that? And some of them were even married!’ She spoke with genuine amazement. She knew only virtuous women who honoured their marriages.
He stirred sugar into his coffee and drank. ‘Did he ever have his family along: you know, parents, brothers, and sisters?’
‘Never once, not all the time we worked here.’
‘Which is how long?’
‘Just about three years.’
The English seemed to take their family ties about as seriously as their marriage vows. ‘All in all, would you have called it a good job?’
‘I suppose it wasn’t too bad. We had Monday afternoon and evenings off and one week-end in four. And if one or other of us wanted an extra day, he usually gave it to us unless he was in a mood. You could find worse jobs and that’s a fact. Except for all the women. He was a . . . But he’s dead now, God rest his soul.’
‘Perhaps He will. I was once told that the English God is very generous . . . Look, we’ve heard today that he definitely died from eating a Uargsomi and I’ve been ordered to find out how it happened. You must have thought about things a lot since yesterday. Are you quite sure you didn’t make a mistake and let a Uargsomi through?’ He motioned with his hand. ‘Don’t get anything wrong. No one’s going to clap you in jail because you made a mistake. It can happen anytime, to anyone.’
‘There was no Uargsomi among the esclatasangs,’ she said forcefully. ‘Señor,
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