‘Where did you put those notes?'
`They're in the escritura. You bring Jazz in, I'll go fetch them.'
Skinner unfastened the straps of his son's car cradle and carried him, asleep, through to his cot. As he went through to the living room, the motorised shutters were rising slowly, and light was advancing into the room from the patio doors towards the centre. Sarah stood waiting for him, a notebook in her hand.
`Good job you took those.'
`Come on, Bob, it's a reflex with me at autopsies. It helps keep my mind on the job. Do you think I never get squeamish over some of the things I see. Remember that time in Advocates Close?'
Skinner looked at her in silence. 'Then you do a hell of a job of covering it up, my darling — even from me. The boys and girls all think you're superhuman, the way you've kept your cool, especially among some of the messes we've had to clear up.'
She flicked the notepad open. 'Here they are. Don't know what good you expect they'll do, though. Just an hour ago we were both agreed it could only be suicide. Are you sure you aren't just grasping at this dog theory like a straw, to humour me?'
`Come on, girl, what sort of a copper do you think I am?
Listen, I was there. I saw that dog. It's a big friendly mutt, but when I got there it seemed terrified — of me. Barking, snarling, all the rest. As soon as it saw I was a friend, it was fine. It more or less pointed me, believe this or not, towards the garage. And those feeding bowls were bone dry.'
`Couldn't they have dried out in the sun?'
Skinner shook his head emphatically. 'They were well in the shade. Believe me. That was a friendly, well-fed, well-groomed animal, treated kindly, just like Carlos said. And it was Santi who treated it that way. Gloria doesn't like dogs. Believe me, he thought as much of the mongrel as he did of his grass. If he switched on the lawn sprinkler, he'd have fed the dog too. . unless someone stopped him. So, Professor, my forensic genius of a wife, since what I'm saying is what happened, I want you to work out, from those notes, a picture of how it was done. Once you've done that, we'll get around to finding out who did it, and why.'
Sarah looked at him doubtfully. 'Christ, you don't want much. You want me to make bricks, give me some straw. There ain't none in here that I can see.'
`Nonetheless, let's go for it.'
`Okay. Let's go outside.' Sarah led the way outside to the patio. Bob made a diversion via the kitchen to fetch two beers. They sat side-by-side at the white table, facing the mountains. Sarah read through her notes, then read them again.
`Cause of death,' said Bob. 'Is there any chance that he was strangled manually by someone, and then hung up there as dead meat.'
Sarah shook her head. 'Absolutely no indication of any other ligature being applied. Remember, too, the strands of rope under the fingernails.'
`That's true. And there was that oily footmark on the chair, matching the smear on Alberni's shoe. So let's take that as certain: he died by hanging. So someone strung him up. How many would it take?'
`At least two, obviously. To control him, and to hoist him up on to that chair.'
`Alberni wasn't very big, but he'd have put up some sort of a struggle. Surely they'd have had to pop him one to keep him quiet. There were no other signs of injury, no bruising, no bang on the head?'
`No, absolutely none. We looked, believe me. If he'd been hit, anywhere, between his toes even, that guy Martinez would have found it. The only unusual things we found were, as I told you; those funny marks on his upper arms.' She picked up her Estrella and took a swig. 'Bob. Go. Vamoose. Have a swim. Change a diaper. Anything at all, but just go and leave me here for a few minutes to try and figure this one out. Go. Scoot!'
Thus bidden, Bob stood up, slipped off his shirt and the shorts which he wore over his trunks, sauntered around to the side of the house, and plunged into the small pool. He swam its short length, backward and forward, until he lost count, then floated for a while on his back in the sun. 'This time next year, maybe Jazz'll be in here with me.' They had decided that the baby would be taught to swim naturally, even before he could walk. Already, Sarah, a college swimming blue, had introduced him to the pool, and he had reacted with delight, taking his own buoyancy for granted, and splashing and kicking like a cygnet trying to fly.
Sarah broke into his daydream with her shout. 'Copper! Get back here!'
He hauled himself out of the pool at the deep end, and rejoined her at the table where she sat, hands clasped together on the closed notebook. There was an expression of satisfaction on her face which fell only a few points short of smugness.
`I think I've got it. Think I've built you something you can fly in. Sit down. I'll be back:, She disappeared into the house, and returned a few seconds later carrying a ball of string.
`Those marks on his arms could have been made by a rope.'
`How?'
`Like this. Stand up again. Ohh, you're still dripping!' She stepped round behind him with the string. The two guys; let's say they're waiting in the garage with their rope — which Gloria said she'd never seen before. She leaves. Santi comes out. They hear him turning on the lawn sprinkler. Then one of them makes a noise, maybe accidentally, probably deliberately. Santi goes into the garage. They grab him, and before he can do anything, they do this.'
She took the string and slipped it under and around Skinner's left arm, then across behind his back and around the right arm. She pulled sharply on the string, and he found that his arms were pinioned to his side.
`Okay, so far,' she continued. 'He's helpless, and they frog shy;march him over to beneath the maintenance pulley, where they've already set up the hanging rope and the chair. With this rope, they hoist him up on to the chair. He realises what's going to happen by now, and he's probably screaming bloody murder, but the villa is empty and isolated and there's only the dog to hear him. One of the guys holds him helpless; the other one slips the noose over his head, and kicks the chair away. They pull the other rope out from behind his back, then stand back and watch the poor man claw at the noose until he blacks out and dies. They take the other rope and they leave. Bingo.'
`How did they get there? How do they leave?'
`Very early, across the field behind the villa. They'd leave by the same way. Well?'
Skinner smiled at his wife. 'God, you're clever. With an instinct for planning like that, I hope you never get mad at me.' He nodded 'Yes, I'll buy it, all right. I want another word with Gloria. I'll do that this evening, then I'll take it to Arturo in the morning.'
`You'd better buy it. It's all you're gonna get.' She grinned at him wickedly. 'You could say your whole case is hanging on it!'