The tourist tsunami had not wreaked its havoc. No unsightly huddle of flats and houses was in sight. He rounded the spur and saw the body. The telephone call had not been a hoax. As he approached it, he tried and failed to overcome the harsh reminder that to live was to die, sometimes violently. The damage to the head made it difficult to judge age and appearance, but guesswork suggested early sixties. The dead man wore a white cotton shirt, white shorts, good-quality sandals. The shirt label recorded it had been made in England; in a pocket of the shorts was a note on which was written, in English: 3 AAA batteries, mobile, Telegraph. The victim was probably English. There was nothing to do until the doctor and photographer turned up, so he settled on the ground. Relaxation was a stressed man’s therapy. Jurando was the first to arrive. He gave Alvarez a cheerful greeting – an unusual doctor – briefly referred to the last time they had met and asked after Alvarez’s family.
