The Little Spanish Girl Read online

  The red-haired detective and his triple chin slowly stood up and walked over to the fire place, absorbed in thought. Then he extended his blubberous arms towards the flames, warming them for a moment.

  ''If what you have told us is true, señor, then this is certainly strange.'' He stopped to reflect for a moment. ''Normally I would immediately accept a case like this, but something concernes me here.''

  He turned his back to the fire and returned to the three men, who were looking at him with rapt attention. ''There are certain elements of danger, including but not limited to a deadly arsenal of guns with some very rough gentlemen attached to their triggers! As we were entering the marsh I found myself trembling for my life more often than I am comfortable with.''

  Elsa harshly interjected.

  ''There is nothing to fear, detective, I assure you! Armed and dangerous, yes, but my men strictly follow protocol. They would not lay a finger on you unless I commanded them to do so!''

  There was a veiled sense of threat in this otherwise comforting statement, as if to say Don’t make me give that order, and detective Klauder had little difficulty picking up on the hint. He gave in with an equal dose of professional courtesy and fear.

  ''Very well, señor Elsa. I will help you find your daughter.''

  ''With my assistance,'' added the bald inspector, also standing up.

  ''Bueno, bueno,'' replied the gangster with more than a hint of relief. ''I thank you both. There is no doubt in my mind that you will do a fine job and return my girl, my little Ana-Maria, back to me. And rest assured, your services will be well-compensated.''

  The bodyguard by the door finally stepped aside, as if he had been instructed to block the way until a favourable agreement had been reached.

  ''Do you by any chance have a photo of your daughter, señor Elsa?'' Klauder inquired.

  Elsa reached across his desk and picked up a silver frame.

  ''This is her,'' he sighed. ''The photo was taken two months ago.''

  ''And she is your only child?''

  ''Yes.''

  ''How old is she again?''

  ''She turned four in September, detective.''

  Klauder examined the picture carefully. She looked slightly undernourished, although it was hard to tell from a black-and-white Polaroid. She was certainly small in any case, with dark, wavy locks and eyes whose vacuousness the detective could not help noticing.

  ''A fine-looking girl,'' he said at length. ''Well, I shan't waste any more of your time, señor. If you would be so kind, I'd like to look at the place where she was last seen.''

  CHAPTER THREE

  ''When exactly did you notice she was gone?''

  ''At nine o’clock as we were sitting at the dinner table, a maid came to tell us that she was no longer in bed. Ana-Maria had not been feeling well that evening, you see. Half an hour into dinner she felt ill and had gone to bed early.''

  ''And no one saw her leave the mansion?''

  ''No. And there is always at least one guard by the front door with lots of my men patroling around the estate, as you have probably noticed yourself.''

  ''And does she normally go to bed by herself, or is she usually accompanied?'' Klauder asked.

  ''A maid escorts her. That evening it was Ignes, who said she even tucked her in, but a little while later, when she retured with some syrup for her stomach ache, my daughter was already gone.''

  The men exited on the fourth floor, with the visibly tired detective wheezing and sweating after climbing the stairs. Moving through the labyrith of coridors, they ran into a few servants, as well as a number of heavily armed and rather shady looking guards.

  ''So she was the last person to see Ana-Maria? The maid, Ignes? We will have to have a word with her, señor.''

  ''Of course, detective,'' replied Gustav. ''Anything you need, just name it. You have full access, naturally, and everyone is at your disposal. All of my people.''

  The long-haired mercinary with the half-paralyzed face still had not said a word, but only followed them like a shadow.

  At one point, they bumped into a lanky blonde woman with a distinguished face and slightly hooked nose, aimlessly wandering around. She appeared disoriented and smiled nervously.

  ''Señora,'' Elsa nodded with a noticably affected kindness.

  ''Oh, señor Elsa! Would you believe I got lost in this enormous mansion of yours? Beatrice went somewhere a while ago, she just dissapeared on me, and I ...''

  ''Yes, that does sound a lot like my wife,'' Gustav interrupted. ''Just go down this corridor and then take a left along those armor displays.''

  Before letting her go, he quickly introduced Beatra and Klauder.

  ''The pleasure is mine,'' she said. ''Antonia Mirral. Now please, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me.''

  ''So typical of Beatrice,'' Elsa snarled as soon as the woman was out of earshot. ''She invited two of her lady friends over - this one arrived today and the other some five days ago - but she's already forgotten about them, apparently letting them wander around on their own, even though she obviously knows that this place is not exactly ... Khm ... Anyway, this is it, detective.''

  Ana-Maria’s quarters were comprised of two big rooms, connected without a door. One was a bedroom and the other a cross between a study and a playroom. Both were colorfully painted.

  ''Have the rooms been tinkered with since her disappearance?'' the detective asked.

  ''Naturally,'' Elsa replied. ''The men were looking for evidence. But they found nothing.''

  ''The place seems tidy,'' Beatra remarked, looking at a set of shelves full of books and toys.

  ''It was tidied by the help.''

  ''The bed also?''

  ''Yes, the bed was ...''

  Suddenly a guard barged into the girl’s room, apparently distraught.

  ''¡Señor Elsa!''

  ''What is it?''

  The guard whispered something in Elsa's ear and the black-eyed gangster grimaced.

  ''¡¿Qué?! ¡¿Estás seguro?!''

  The man nodded and Elsa turned to the two investigators.

  ''I'm sorry, gentlemen, but something requires my immediate attention. Please, as you were!''

  He left in a hurry, with guards following him. The incident left Klauder and Beatra uneasy.

  ''What was that all about?'' the detective wondered aloud.

  ''Your guess is as good as mine, señor. Still, if the rooms have already been searched, it seems unlikely that anything remains to be discovered.''

  ''There is always something, inspector,'' Klauder replied. ''Always.''

  Yet even so, after fifteen minutes of searching, he had to admit defeat. Nothing alarming or unusual was discovered.

  ''It would help if we had some assistance,'' he opined. ''Someone local, who's been here often and would know if anything were out of place.''

  ''Wait here, detective, and I'll see what I can do.''

  But just then, they were startled by a hoarse voice coming from behind them.

  ''Ignes, at your service.''

  It was the same woman they had met earlier in the lobby – the older maid with curly hair and a headscarf, arms folded and possessed of a generally annoyed look.

  ''¡Señora!'' The inspector collected himself, while his well-rounded companion was still gasping for air. ''Dios mío. We just wanted to ask you a few questions regarding ...''

  ''I recognize you!'' she said, interrupting Beatra and pointing to the detective. ''I've seen you in the papers. You are that famous investigator!''

  ''Emmanuel Klauder, señora, yes.''

  Strangely, she seemed even more agitated now than before.

  ''So, you too think I did it, don’t you? Were four days of interrogations and threats not enough? I have worked here for fifteen years – fifteen years! And not once have I done anything wrong. I've always been at their disposal, and now they ...'' Her indignation was such that she could barely speak.

  ''Do not be alarmed, señora,'' Klauder reassured her. ''Jumpi
ng to premature conclusions is not exactly a habit of mine. We just wanted you to take a look around and tell us if anything seemed out of the ordinary here.''

  ''I've already done that, detective. A number of times.''

  ''And?''

  ''No - everything is in its place. Sure, when the guards were done searching, the place was left upside down, but even before that, when I noticed Ana-Maria was gone on Friday night, I didn't spot anything unusual. Apart, of course, from the disappearence itself.''

  Nonetheless, at Klauder's request she went through the two rooms again, her eyes scanning the area, while the investigators continued their impromptu interrogation.

  ''Is the girl locked in here at night?''

  ''No. We don't lock her in.''

  ''It was said that she felt ill on the night of her disappearance. Had she started to feel better by the time you tucked her in?''

  ''Not at all,'' the woman replied. ''She kept getting worse, which is why I made her lie down and then left to go to our on-site physisican to pick up some syrup for nausea and stomach pain. When I returned a little while later, she was gone. She ... Well, now this is odd.''

  Klauder snapped to attention.

  ''What's odd?''

  ''The window,'' she said. ''It's slightly open.''

  The three of them walked over to one of the windows, which indeed seemed to have been left ajar.

  ''This one is tricky,'' she murmured. ''It has to be positioned just right to stay closed.''

  The detective opened the window and gazed at the ground four floors below. Clearly, no one could jump from here and survive. The building's facade was, however, encased by a wooden, ivy-covered trellis, of which both he and Beatra took note.

  ''Does the girl have a habit of running away or getting into mischief?'' Beatra asked.

  ''Not at all, inspector. Ana-Maria is a good little girl. And besides, the window was closed on the night she went missing. Someone must have opened it recently.''

  ''I see,'' Beatra nodded.

  ''Does she have any usual hiding places?'' Klauder asked.

  ''She does, but they've all been searched, not only by me but also the other maids.''

  Klauder stepped away from the window and señora Ignes closed it, adding that it had probably been left ajar by one of the search parties.

  ''Speaking of the other maids, were you alone on duty that evening or were other members of the staff also present?''

  The curly-haired woman answered without a thought, as if she had expected the question and had prepared the answer in advance.

  ''Three, besides me.''

  ''I see. Would it be possible for you to get them together so we could also ask them a few questions?''

  The detective threw in a smile to enhance the politeness of the request and Ignes responded that she would immediately find the women and instruct them to meet the investigators in the staff room.

  A few minutes later Beatra and Klauder were walking in the direction they had been pointed in, poking their noses into rooms and closets along the way.

  ''It sure is a beautiful mansion,'' the detective said.

  ''And old,'' Beatra added. ''I believe it was built in the thirteenth century.''

  ''Must cost a fortune to live in a place like this and employ all these people.''

  ''I don’t think money is exactly an issue for señor Elsa, detective.''

  When they arrived at the staff room they found the three identically-dressed maids there waiting for them, none of whom seemed particularly pleased to be having this meeting.

  ''Ladies, please don't be alarmed, I won’t take much of your time. I'm detective Emmanuel Klauder; Inspector Beatra some of you may already know.'' Klauder gestured to the bald man sitting at his side, writing something in a small notebook. ''We're investigating the disappearance of Ana-Maria.''

  ''I knew it was you,'' said one of the maids. ''I recognized you from the papers.''

  ''Yes, yes, the papers,'' Klauder smiled half-heartedly, apparently all too accustomed to hearing this. ''Now, here's the thing. Ana-Maria went missing four days ago, on Friday. Did any of you have contact with her that evening? Maybe you saw her, talked to her?''

  The women glanced at one another.

  ''I was in the laundry room that evening, sir,'' the first maid said.

  ''And I was only briefly on duty,'' added the second. ''I excused myself as I felt under the weather and went to bed early with a headache.''

  ''¿Y usted?'' Klauder turned to the third maid. She was the smallest of the three, a slender girl with a ponytail and thick, dark eyebrows that looked a bit out of place on her otherwise feminine face.

  She blushed and quickly lowered her gaze.

  ''I was on duty that night, señor, that is true,'' she replied timidly. ''I was carrying hot-water bottles to the beds of the family members.''

  ''Was this before or after the girl went missing, señora?''

  ''Please, call me Alejandra. Well, I had brought the water bottle to her bed before, señor – she was still at dinner at the time – and as I was finishing my shift, I heard shouting. They had noticed she was missing.''

  ''I see,'' Klauder said, thoughtfully. ''And did you notice anything unusual that evening? Anything worth mentioning?''

  ''No, I cannot say that I did.''

  ''What about you two?''

  The other two maids shook their heads, and Klauder was out of questions, so he thanked the women and dismissed them.

  ''Nothing promising so far, eh, detective?'' the inspector said once the maids had left the room.

  Klauder smirked. He no doubt wanted to say something witty in reponse, but two guards barging into the staff room robbed him of the opportunity.

  ''Detective, inspector!'' one of them barked. ''Put your coats on and follow us – señor Elsa’s orders!''

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Out they went into the cold and around the mansion, walking escorted into the unknown. At it turned out, the estate was miles upon miles in diameter. Many footsteps were seen in the snow as the investigators followed the guards though the sparse woods and frozen terrain.

  The thick mist still had not lifted, and at one point the detective, now silent, felt seriously frightened that he would be executed without warning. But nothing so dramatic occurred. Instead, they arrived at a children’s playground that stood out less for its impressive variety of equipment than for the absence of any children there to use it.

  ''Finally!'' Elsa exclaimed, already at the scene and looking worried. ''Be warned - it's not a pleasant sight.''

  This was a gross understatement. The horrific scene burned the eyes. In the middle of the otherwise cheerful playground with its slides and wooden castles lay the body of a boy, stripped naked, eyes torn from the sockets and nowhere to be seen.

  Even the seasoned Klauder began shaking in his shoes and almost fainted. But Beatra, being more familiar with scenes such as this, showed no reaction, but merely crouched down and began examining the corpse.

  ''Strangled,'' he said. ''Look at the lines around the neck. Poor thing. Who is he?''

  ''A child of one of my men. He vanished about an hour ago, I was just told. And now ...'' The man with the thick mustache bit his lip.

  ''Horrific!'' Klauder exclaimed, unable to say anything else.

  ''There’s more,'' Elsa said, his face grim as he pointed somewhere into the fog.

  Klauder, who could not stand the awful sight a second longer, gladly took advantage of the opportunity and made off in that direction as fast as he could. But before he could take more than a few steps, he noticed something written next to the childrens' pictures on one of the wooden partitions. When he stopped to read the message, he realized it was written, not in dry paint, but fresh blood:

  Daughters of Satan embrace Benjamine.

  In the darkness of hell, he needs no sight.

  Even Klauder's triple chin had goosebumps. It felt as if someone had just ripped out his spine and used it to smack him on his he
ad.

  ''What is it?''

  Beatra came up beside him and read the sign out loud.

  ''Daughters of Satan,'' he recited slowly, ''embrace Benjamine? In the darkness of hell, he needs no sight ... ¡Dios mío!''

  Elsa approached, the guards close behind him.

  ''This is clearly the work of a psychopath,'' Klauder said. ''Who discovered the body and when?''

  ''These men here, detective, about twenty minutes ago. They were patrolling the grounds, searching for Ana-Maria.''

  ''Did you see anyone? Hear anything?'' the inspector immediately fired a couple of questions at the guards, but none of them had any information to offer. Meanwhile, Elsa’s long-haired chief bodyguard thoughtlessly poked at the corpse with his boot.

  ''Have the parents of the boy been informed, señor Elsa?'' Klauder asked.

  ''No, they haven't. And we're going to keep it that way. We are the only ones that know about this for now. And our mouths will remain shut until the person responsible for this is discovered and brought to justice! I don’t want any further panic. Do you understand?''

  Elsa's men nodded, but Klauder remained motionless while Beatra merely stood there scratching his beard.

  ''We are dealing with a cold-blooded murderer. Order a lockdown. No one is to leave the premesis.''

  ''You think I haven’t already done that, inspector? If you want to examine the body any futher, now would be a good time to do it. As soon as you're finished, we will bury the boy and wipe the message off the wall.''

  Beatra cleared his throat. ''Señor Elsa, if I may; these things are evidence and perhaps it would be wiser if we ...''

  ''We will not!'' Elsa shouted, dispensing with any pretense of civility. ''Do whatever you have to do, inspector, and then we will get rid of this gruesome scene! Don’t forget - this is my land and we play by my rules! Understood?''

  Beatra bit his tongue and forced a nod.

  The half-hypnotized Klauder, on the other hand, was too busy staring at the bloody inscription to give an answer.