The Little Spanish Girl Read online

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ''I'm just going to say it. Whoever abducted Ana-Maria and has now done this is clearly one sick fuck, if you'll pardon the vernacular, and whether the girl is even still alive is highly questionable.''

  Beatra and Klauder were slowly walking back to the mansion, accompanied by one of the ubiquitous guards.

  ''Yes, inspector. And this also means,'' Klauder mumbled, visibly shaken, ''that the case is a lot more dangerous than we originally thought. Even for us. I mean if someone is capable of killing a fellow human being, let alone a child, in such a grisly way, they are probably prepared to do anything at all. We're not dealing with a mere kidnapper, but a bona fide killer. Not only do we need to unravel this mystery quickly, before any further harm is done, but we also have to look after ourselves. I certainly do wish you still had those guns, let me tell you.''

  ''I don’t think it would be a huge problem to get another,'' Beatra said in a whisper, so their armed companion would not hear him. ''But what do we do now?''

  Klauder thought for a moment.

  ''Señor Elsa said that the dinner where we'll meet the members of his family is at eight. So that gives us ...'' He looked at his watch, so tightly wrapped around his wrist that it resembled an opera singer’s girdle. ''... an hour and a half. I suggest we go explore the grounds a little further and see where the territory ends, what exactly we are dealing with.''

  ''Fine by me.''

  The guard did not complain as they deviated from the trail of footsteps leading back to the mansion and began wandering around the estate. The territory was surrounded by a sturdy fence with barbed wire at the top. It seemed next to impossible to climb over it or even to go under it: the iron net didn't budge when Klauder tried raising it.

  ''Looks like it’s built into the ground.''

  One look at the swamp beyond, with its dark, dead waters, eerie fog, unpleasant looking brushwood, and even an occasional alligator lying motionless in the frozen mud, was enough to make even the most hardened forensic investigator uncomfortable.

  ''This is so odd,'' Klauder said, absorbed in thought. ''The killer struck roughly at the same time as we arrived. Coincidence? I don’t think so. I imagine he knew señor Elsa would be preoccupied with us and used that to his advantage. Also, the fog provided excellent cover. Tell me, inspector, is it often like this here?''

  ''Like what?''

  ''Foggy.''

  ''At this time of year, yes.''

  ''And what about the ... Hold on a minute. What’s that over there?''

  In the distance he had spotted the silhouette of a large building. As they proceeded towards it, Klauder could make out what appeared to be chimneys. It looked like a factory.

  ''An industrial complex? What exactly does señor Elsa produce?''

  Beatra shrugged.

  ''Let’s go have a look, inspector, shall we?''

  But they did not get very far, as the factory itself also had a large perimeter of wired fence similar to the one bordering the estate.

  ''Locked,'' Klauder growled as he tried unsuccessfully to open the gate. ''Excuse me, señor,'' he said, turning to their armed escort, ''but could you tell us ...''

  He was stopped short. The guard was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

  ''Now that’s bizarre. It looks as if he just vanished into thin air.''

  ''We better keep moving,'' said Beatra. ''We'll freeze to death otherwise.''

  They continued past the factory, gazing intently at it as they walked, but its facade offered no clues as to what the facility might be for. The detective made a mental note to ask Elsa about it at dinner that evening.

  Finally, after walking though the tundra for more than half an hour, they wandered into a shank town of sorts occupied by men with hard faces and a sinister presence. Apparently these were the residential quarters of Elsa's bodyguards.

  Some of these men had families, and there were children running about, laughing and having snow fights. Most were dressed poorly and appeared underfed. In this environment, the investigators stood out like a boil on a nose.

  ''Maybe Ana-Maria ended up here,'' Klauder suggested. ''It would be a good place to hide someone. We'll have to check into this. Elsa sure likes to keep his men close, though, doesn’t he?'' He stopped and glanced over at some of the rough-looking men talking quietly amongst themselves, their suspicious eyes fixed firmly on the two strangers in their midst.

  ''Either that or these men figured it was just easier to live here as opposed to dealing with sixteen body searches every day when they came to work,'' Beatra said, only half-facetiously. ''Either way, this place gives me the creeps.''

  ''You and me both, inspector.''

  ''Should we turn back now? It’s getting dark.''

  On the way back out of the shanty town, Klauder tried to start a conversation with a few of the guards, hoping to question them about both Ana-Maria and the other child, Benjamine, and to find out whether any of their own children might have been spending time with Elsa's daughter. But all he received in response to his inquiries was a scowl.

  ''Listen, detective, now that we can talk in peace,'' Beatra said once they were safely out of earshot of the guards, ''there's something you should know about this place, and about señor Elsa in particular.''

  ''What's that?''

  ''About ten years ago, a series of strange events took place – events that shook the city and made anyone think twice before setting foot in the marshes or getting on the wrong side of Gustav Elsa. Back in the day, there was a lot of criminal activity in the swamps down here, and despite the fact that our host was known to bribe the law and have unwanted visitors shot, the police would still occasionally come down on him and his men pretty hard. But then one day, practically overnight, people in the town began getting sick, and I do not mean flu. There were cases where people's bodies quite literally began to rot. Men, women and children decaying from the inside out and dying in a way I'd rather not describe. And who do you suppose took responsibility for these horrific circumstances? None other then señor Elsa himself! He then announced that any further attempts to harass him or his men would be punished in a similar fashion, with ever more innocent casualties. He claimed to have control over satanic forces and to be able to wield them so as to bring misery and doom upon his enemies. Immediately thereafter, government officials washed their hands of the matter, swept it all under the rug, got on Elsa's payroll, and remained quiet. Ever since, this whole area has been avoided by anyone with half a brain and no one, the law included, dares cross its owner.''

  After a few seconds of silence, Klauder let out a chuckle.

  ''Pardon me, inspector, but that has got to be the silliest thing my ears have ever heard. Satanic forces? Madre mía, is that the level of superstition amongst our folks these days? I would at least expect the police to rise above such fairy tales and ...''

  Beatra grabbed the abdominous detective by his coat.

  ''You would not be saying this if you had been a resident of our town all those years ago, detective! I have witnessed, with my own two eyes, people’s bodies decaying in ways that the Good Lord Himself has probably never seen. I'm telling you there is no superstition behind it. The man is truly demonic!''

  Emmanuel Klauder was a deliberate man, a realist, a skeptic at heart. It was all he could do to keep his eyes from rolling backward in his head.

  ''¡Eso es absurdo! I'll have you know that I've dealt with similar so-called supernatural phenomena before, inspector, in not one but a few of my cases. Needless to say there was never anything super about it. I have no doubt there is a rational explanation for this as well.''

  ''¡Ciertamente! Witchcraft!''

  ''I said rational, inspector. Although I have to admit, it strikes me as an improbable coincidence. So the man is known for being some ominous fellow with ties to the devil, and the inscription on the wall clearly indicated a satanic connection.''

  Beatra said nothing, and Klauder, too, fell silent for a while. Then
he noticed it was getting dark.

  ''This piece of information does indeed shed a different light on the whole matter,'' he said. ''If there's anything more like this that I should know, fire away. But please understand that I'm counting on you to act profesionally, inspector. I do not wish to see my only companion here fall victim to paranoid thoughts and delusions.''

  Chief Inspector Beatra thought for a moment before replying.

  ''I shall make every endeavor not to, detective.''

  CHAPTER SIX

  The dining room was located on the ground floor. It was very large with tall windows looking out onto the emerging evening. The investigators entered, still a bit cold from the long walk. They were greeted loudly by Elsa, who stood up from the head of the long dining table around which several guests were seated.

  ''Ah, here you are!''

  He was no longer displaying any of the distressed emotions that had so possessed him only a little while earlier. Apparently he had managed to pull himself together.

  ''Join us, por favor. You're just in time.''

  He did not have to ask twice. Klauder’s protruding stomach had been growling all the way back to the mansion, attacked by a ferocious hunger that apparently not even fear could tame.

  ''Don’t mind if I do,'' he said, and sat down next to Elsa with the inspector taking a seat across the table next to an old woman who looked much like the master might have had he been about thirty years older.

  ''I believe introductions are in order. This right here,'' Elsa gently tapped the old woman on her wrinkly hand, ''is my dear mother, Constanza. And over here,'' he said, pointing at a heavyset fellow who nonetheless seemed skinny next to the detective, ''is my engineer and friend, Nicolas Duvali.''

  The man adjusted his glasses and acknowledged the investigators with a hesitant nod of his balding head. Klauder noticed his fingernails had been chewed to the point of bleeding.

  ''My sister, Elizabeth,'' Elsa continued, as the pale woman in her late twenties with a bob haircut, a birth mark on her cheek and a tired face with dark circles under the eyes managed a polite smile. ''And my wife, Beatrice, who you've already met, plus her two friends whose names I'm afraid I've once again managed to forget.''

  ''It’s Antonia Mirral, dear,'' replied the brown-haired, jewelry-covered Beatrice, pointing to the woman on her left, the lanky blonde with a slightly hooked nose that the two investigators had met late that afternoon. ''And Pilar Fernandez.''

  With very long, bronze hair and a distinct round, apple-shaped face, Pilar Fernandez was no slouch herself in the beauty department, her teeth perhaps a bit on the long side, yet elegant nonetheless. She seemed slightly embarrased, though Klauder could not help but admire her grace.

  ''You could have remembered their names by now, Gustav,'' Beatrice acerbically opined, taking a few very large sips of wine. ''Just goes to show how little attention you pay to what I say.''

  Elsa blushed slightly, but still managed to force a smile. ''Enough, Beatrice. You're drunk. Moving on with introductions, the man leaning on the wall back there is my chief bodyguard, Marcus.''

  The fellow with the half-paralized face and long, dark hair nodded in obligatory agreement, a sniper's rifle permanently strapped to his back. He did not seem to mind that he had to remain standing while everyone else was seated.

  ''And, everyone, this is the famous detective who's here to solve the disappearance of Ana-Maria and bring her back alive and well. The one and only Emmanuel Klauder.''

  Of course they all already knew who he was. The newspapers had done an excellent job in that regard, covering several of his more recent high-profile cases. But before any further words could be exchanged, Beatrice shot up and began shouting at her husband in indignation, her voice echoing across the dining room and causing her jewelry to rattle.

  ''¡Cabrón! How dare you silence me like that! How dare you treat me as if I was a child! I'm drunk? Is that what it is? Is that what’s wrong with this goddamned place, me being drunk? Is that our only problem?'' She grabbed a newly-opened bottle of Riesling and started gulping it down, almost suffocating herself in the process, some of the wine running down her throat and the rest down her dress.

  The entire group sat in a palpably uncomfortable silence. Only Elsa, whose reddish blush was turning into a furious pale, stood up. He waited for his wife to down the entire bottle, having apparently long since grown accustomed to such behavior.

  ''Are you satisfied, dear? Or should I get one of the maids to bring you some more? Perhaps something a little bit stronger so you can get there even quicker?''

  If looks could kill, the gangster would have dropped dead right there and then. But instead, the besotted Beatrice merely grabbed her dinner plate, smashed it on the ground and stormed out of the dining room, her high heals furiously striking the floor as she went.

  ''You will have to excuse my wife. She has been through a lot. Please,'' Elsa said, motioning to one of several shocked servants standing along the periphery of the room, ''bring out the appetizer. And someone clean up this mess, for fuck’s sake!''

  They ate in near silence for almost twenty minutes, and what little dialogue there was, was not initiated by detective Klauder. After downing no fewer than five portions of soup, he annihilated an entire baked chicken, along with substantive portions of potatoes and other side dishes. With such an appetite, how he had acquired his girth was hardly a mystery. Of course, even the most voracious eventually reach their limits, and Klauder finally leaned back in his chair, barely able to breathe. With visible strain, he began asking Elsa the questions he had prepared for him beforehand, and for which the gangster, too, seemed prepared.

  ''Of course the shanty town has been searched, detective. A number of times. And my daughter was not found there either.''

  ''Because I was thinking ... Well, those men of yours, they, uh ...'' Klauder wasn't quite comfortable slandering the guards with their chief present.

  ''I trust my men completely,'' Elsa said sternly. ''They are absolutely loyal.''

  ''Right. Well what about that factory of yours? What exactly goes on in there?''

  ''Nothing you should be concerned about,'' Elsa retorted.

  Just then, desert was served, and Klauder helped himself to some tiramisu, having somehow managed to find a little more room in his digestive chambers. ''But señor,'' he mumbled, his mouth full of creamy goodness, ''what if someone is hiding your daughter in there? I would very much like to at least take a look at ...''

  ''My word, don’t you have an appetite!'' the stout man with glasses interrupted from across the table. It seemed as if Duvali the engineer had purposely intervened to stop the detective from probing any further. ''And I thought I ate a lot!''

  He smiled, and Klauder noticed he had a slight facial twitch.

  ''Ah, well,'' the detective said, deciding not to pursue his point about the factory any further for the moment. ''My doctor advised me to eat a lot less and stick mainly to vegetables and fruit to help control my diabetes. But you know what? As long as I have my shots,'' he smiled and tapped the outside of his vest where he kept the insulin set, ''I just let loose, whenever I can, whenever there is a full plate in front of me. After all, what's the point of life if you can't enjoy it? And speaking of my shots, if you'll excuse me for just a moment ...''

  He stood up with a polite nod and left the dining room, so full that he could barely walk. When he returned, Elsa's tired-looking sister Elizabeth decided it was her turn to ask questions.

  ''How long have you had it?''

  ''The diabetes? Ever since I was a child, señora.''

  ''You poor thing,'' she said, without the slightest hint of genuine empathy.

  ''Yes, but what can you do?'' Klauder shrugged. ''I mean at least now I have the medicine. When I was a child I was put on a special diet and even then it was living hell as I was constantly getting sick and living in and out of hospitals. At one point the doctors even tried to give me lead therapy, if you can imagine.''r />
  ''Back in my day no-one had these illnesses!'' barked the gruff old lady Constanza, looking at Klauder contemptuously. ''But people these days have just gotten so reckless it’s no wonder that they're ill!'' She wagged her bony finger at the astonished detective. ''If you were my son, you would have never gotten that disease of yours. I would have smacked the need to feed right out of you!''

  Constanza's outburst was followed by a long interval of uncomfortable silence.

  ''My diabetes is genetic, señora'' Klauder finally mumbled, clearing his throat.

  ''Mother, please,'' Elsa grumbled. ''Don’t insult the man. He's here to help.''

  ''I don’t care if he is. ¡No me gusta!''

  ''You don’t like anyone, mother.''

  ''Yes, but this one especially.''

  Elsa was about to deliver the same ineffectual sermon on the virtue of tact that his mother had been ignoring for twenty-odd years, when he was interrupted by the sound of a woman screaming somewhere on one of the upper floors. He jumped to his feet.

  ''You women stay here!'' he ordered and left in a frenzy, with Marcus following close behind. The investigators exchanged a nervous look then took off after them.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The screaming led Beatra and the overstuffed, wheezing Klauder to the fourth floor. They had been here before. The ruckus was comming from Ana-Maria’s room.

  Elsa and his lackeys were trying to calm the terrified woman down at least enough so that she would stop shouting. It was Beatrice, and immediately the investigators saw what had her so petrified. On the wall, written in partially smeared blood, was yet another inscription:

  Zais-Ak swallowed her whole.

  Zais-Bur still has room for more.

  This time, however, there was no body to be found, despite a very thorough search. Beatrice finally stopped screaming when she fainted in the arms of one of the guards.

  ''Her hands, detective,'' Beatra exclaimed in shock. ''They are covered in blood!''