by Dawn Tamayo
“Give it time, it’s only been just over a week. Maybe they think you’re away on holiday and aren’t expecting you back yet.”
“And what about my friends? Surely there must be someone who’s missing me? I can’t have been such a recluse, it just doesn’t seem right somehow.”
Romero nodded, he couldn’t imagine that either, especially after seeing how alive she became behind Juan’s bar when she chatted away to the customers. He definitely didn’t think Helen was a recluse at all.
“Amorsita, give it time. Someone will realise you are missing soon, and then all will be revealed.” Romero took a bite from his food and looked at her as she put down her own plate and juice on the table and casually asked, “So what will you do then?”
“When?” Helen asked taking a mouthful of her scrambled eggs.
“When you find out who you are?” He didn’t like the thought she might go away and leave him, he couldn’t believe he had only known her for just over a week. It was crazy, but he felt like he had known Helen forever.
Helen paused and looked at Romero seriously. “I don’t know.” She went back to eating her breakfast deep in thought. “I suppose it depends on a lot of things.” She didn’t want to think about what, or who, had been in her life before now, and how that would affect her and Romero. “What would you do?” She asked him seriously.
Romero looked at her feeling a deep crushing sensation in his chest, “I would deal with it as and when it happened.” He answered honestly. “Whatever you do must be your own choice Helen, and no one else’s.”
Helen nodded, taking another bite of her food. She supposed she should be happy at the thought of finally remembering everything, but she couldn’t help feeling sad. She couldn’t believe how little time had passed since she had met Romero, since he had rescued her, because she felt like she had known him for a lifetime, well at least her heart did.
Romero continued to eat his food, but the flavour had vanished now. His stomach was still happy to be fed but his mind was elsewhere. He knew he should never have kissed her that first time - he had known he wouldn’t be able to leave it there, and anything else would only end in tears at some point down the line, it was inevitable. Now Romero was worried it could be sooner rather than later, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle letting Helen go, if that was what he had to do.
Helen left Romero in his villa and walked down the main street towards the bus stop. After her conversation with him at breakfast, and being dragged willingly back to the bedroom for another passionate encounter, she decided that this was the start of her new life. She had money in her purse having now worked a couple of shifts at Juan’s bar, and she wanted to head into Benidorm to do some shopping - she was looking forward to seeing Romero’s face when she returned with a sexy little lingerie outfit. Romero had offered to drive her in, but she declined. She couldn’t have him driving her around every time she wanted to go somewhere, and she was sure he must have better things to do with his spare time, so she chose to take the bus and be more independent, she felt ready now.
The old town of Benidorm was busy, but Helen didn’t mind, she was beginning to enjoy the hustle and bustle. She walked casually around the streets looking in the little shop windows as she passed, and then wandered further along into the new town. She knew where she was going, Cathy had told her where the good clothes shops were and she was enjoying her new found independence - she had a feeling she had never been a wall-flower and liked doing what she wanted, when she wanted.
As Helen wandered through the old Spanish streets she paused, looking around – she could have sworn she felt someone watching her, but each time she looked around she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just people walking by, wandering along and enjoying their day out.
Helen sat under an umbrella sheltering herself from the hot midday sun as she ate lunch at a little café on the Benidorm beachfront. She couldn’t believe how relaxed she felt; the only thing missing was Romero, and now she wished she had called him to meet her there so she could enjoy the wonderful view with him.
A rough deep voice interrupted Helen’s thoughts, “Can I have this seat?” a large man asked, but he didn’t wait for her answer and sat down on the seat opposite Helen at her small table.
Helen looked at the man annoyed – he hadn’t even waited for her to agree! Then she realised it was the same man who had been staring at her last night at Juan’s bar. She sat upright, uncomfortable with his intrusion. She looked over her shoulder and called to the waiter to bring her the bill.
The large man spoke in a rough English accent, “You know who I am?”.
“I saw you last night, you were walking past a bar I was at.” She replied, not letting her eyes leave his - she was not going to be intimidated by him, even if everything in his manner felt intimidating. The waiter appeared at her side putting a little piece of paper with her bill scribbled on it next to her.
“You really don’t recognise me do you?” The man asked seeming surprised.
Helen looked carefully at him, but no she didn’t recognise him. She was tempted to ask him a flurry of questions which were floating around in her head - did he really know her, and if so then how did he know her? But she didn’t like the cold smile on his face and decided enough was enough and she wasn’t going to play whatever little game he seemed to be playing. If he knew her then he would surely come out and say it, and not toy with her. She reached into her purse and put some euros on top of her bill.
“I have no idea who you are, and I don’t think I particularly want to.” She said standing up.
The Englishman put his hands up in mock surrender, “I am sorry, I have obviously made a mistake. You looked like someone I know, but now I can see you are not her. I apologise for the intrusion.” And as quickly as he came, he stood and was gone.
Helen looked around and once again he had vanished into the crowd of people walking by. She stood there for a while thinking about the strange man. Did he know her, was she the person he had mistaken her for? Part of her wanted to run after him and get her answers, but another part of her didn’t like him one bit and was perfectly happy to see the back of him. She picked up her bag and headed off to the lingerie shop to complete her shopping before heading back to Romero at home.
When Helen arrived home she found Romero in the shower preparing for work. She told him about her encounter with the strange Englishman; he listened to her intensely, his police-mind taking in every word and making a mental note to update her file with this information as soon as he got to the station. He was going to phone in the information right there and then, however Helen insisted on showing him her purchases from the lingerie shop and there was no way he was letting her get away without trying them on for him first. Willingly Helen obliged.
That night Romero drove Helen to Juan’s bar again, even though she maintained she could take the bus to work. But Romero wouldn’t hear of it, “No, not at night. It’s not safe to be taking the bus at night. Besides, I like driving you, it means I get to spend more time with you.” He couldn’t believe how much he enjoyed being with Helen, he had never felt like this with anyone before – the feeling of contentment to be in her company as well as the sizzling passionate moments they shared together. But the drive went far too quickly and all too soon he was standing outside Juan’s bar, kissing her goodnight, and not wanting to let her go.
Juan laughed as he watched his friend and his new girlfriend unable to keep their hands off each other, “Sí sí, that’s enough you two.”
Romero kissed Helen goodbye one more time, then turned away and walked back towards his car.
“Hi Juan, Cathy.” Helen said smiling as she walked behind the bar and through the doorway into their home to put her handbag away.
“Oh I remember those days!” Cathy laughed as she followed Helen through the doorway to join her for a quick cup of coffee before she started her evening shift. Cathy gave Juan a quick second glance, he would normal
ly laugh at her playfully sarcastic comment but he wasn’t listening to her, he was watching Romero. She shrugged and went inside.
Juan vaguely heard Cathy say something to him but he wasn’t paying her much attention, he was firmly focussed on Romero. Romero’s mobile phone rang just as he was walking back to his car, and as he talked into it intensely he looked back towards Juan and the bar, pausing for a moment as if in two minds, and then carried on walking back to his car. Juan could just about make out Romero’s features and he looked serious, deadly serious. He watched as Romero threw his phone inside the car and jumped in, he was obviously in a hurry now as he drove off faster than he normally did. Juan wondered what was going on - whatever it was must have been very important.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The handsome sandy-haired gentleman noticed the pretty blonde woman who had been trying to catch his eye for the last five minutes. Had it been yesterday then he would have been interested. But today things were different, things had changed, and he was far too busy to think about her now. Right now he needed to concentrate on the police officer in front of him. He had been taken to a little desk at the back of the police station, and he suspected that the mirror next to him was there for more than the policemen to check their hats were on straight.
“Señor Chapman, why did you not report this person missing before now? It has been over a week.”
The sandy-haired man’s crisp English accent stood out amongst the other Spanish voices in the room, “Nearly two weeks to be correct Officer. You see we had an argument over something silly, I can’t even remember what it was about. Anyway I went out for a drink with some friends, you know how it is – sometimes it is better to leave them to calm down for a bit - and when I came home the next morning she had gone. I thought she was annoyed with me and had gone back to her own place. I called her a few times but she didn’t answer, so I thought she just needed a little more time to calm down. She can sulk for days sometimes, so I didn’t think it was strange - you know how women can be! I was just giving her some time and space, I had no idea she was actually missing.”
“So, what makes you think she is missing now? Maybe she doesn’t want to see you again. This could be her way of telling you your relationship is over. It would not be the first time. We see this all the time.” The police officer leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest and pausing from typing the missing person’s report. He assessed the Englishman; he didn’t look too worried, not harassed, not sweating or wringing his hands. In fact the Englishman looked very calm and collected for someone as worried as he claimed to be.
“Well, I went to her apartment and had the caretaker let me in. Her handbag, telephone and keys were still in there. There is no way she would go out without them. And it looks like no one has been in the apartment for days.”
“Very well, can you give me a description of the missing woman.” The police officer said, with fingers poised over the keyboard ready to complete the empty boxes on his missing persons report.
“I have already given that to the officer on the reception desk.” He said growing frustrated - he had been there over an hour now, and all they seemed to be doing was make him repeat everything he had said to the officer on the reception desk.
“I understand Señor, but that officer needed to take the details to pass you onto the right department. I am the missing person’s department, so now you need to tell me.”
The Englishman sighed and handed across a small photograph, “She is five foot six inches tall, slender to medium build, light brown-to-gold hair with blue eyes. She is twenty-eight years old and her name is Helen Jones.”
“I see from the details you gave the other officer that you are not from around here Mr Chapman.”
“Yes that is correct. My name is Oliver Chapman, and I live in Estepona, however I do business all over Spain.”
“I see. So why are you reporting this woman missing here in Benidorm and not at the police station in Estepona?” He watched the man closely thinking he was a long way from home.
“I went to Helen’s apartment, which is also in Estepona, at the last minute before I needed to leave to come here for my meetings. I didn’t have time to stop at the police station in Estepona, but I obviously wanted to report her missing as soon as possible. I have just arrived here and I thought this would be the best thing to do. Benidorm is the closest big town to my business meetings, so that’s why I have ended up here.” The Englishman said abruptly.
“Sí señor, that is very wise of you. We will put this into the system and see what we come up with. We will be in touch with you soon. Can we contact you on your mobile number or at your home in Estepona?”
“Is that it?” Oliver Chapman blurted out loudly, not caring who was looking at him, “Can’t you do something now? Helen is missing, and we need to find her!”
“Señor, I understand your concern, but we must investigate all possibilities first. We will put this information into the system now, and if she is on there we will be in touch soon.” The officer stood up indicating it was time for the Englishman to leave.
Begrudgingly Oliver Chapman stood up and brushed off some invisible flecks of dust from his suit sleeves.
“One more question Señor Chapman.” The officer said, “Exactly what is your relationship with Helen Jones?”
“She is my fiancée.”
“Thank you Señor.” The policeman nodded.
“Thank you Officer, I hope to hear from you soon.” Oliver Chapman said before walking away, glad to be getting out of there. He stood at the police station door considering his options – he wasn’t sure if he should head back to Estepona, or book into a hotel for the night just in case there was any news. He walked off, still not sure what to do.
The police officer took his seat again and watched as the Englishman walked out of the station door. He had heard the name Oliver Chapman before, a lot of people had, but he had never seen the man in person and he was surprised how young he was for a multi-millionaire – he had expected Oliver Chapman to be older, not in his late thirties at the most. People said Oliver Chapman had made his money himself, no rich parents, just good old fashioned hard work. He was worth a fortune – most of it coming from the fleet of yachts he leased out to the rich and famous, as well as a having his finger in a few other business ventures up and down the Spanish coast.
Romero walked out from behind the mirrored wall. He looked at his colleague and took the photograph from his outstretched hand. Romero had to control his hands - his whole insides were shaking since the Englishman had said the word “fiancée”! When Romero’s card-game buddy had called him to say a man had just walked into the Benidorm police station with a photograph of a woman who looked just like Helen in his hand, Romero had jumped straight into his car and headed into the station, entering by the back door so he couldn’t be seen. He was pleased to see they had adhered to protocol and seated the Englishman at the back desk, right next to the observation mirror - this way they could assess the person reporting someone missing, and their behaviour without being seen. Romero had gone directly into the room behind the mirrored wall and stood watching the conversation through the one-way mirror. He knew from the man’s description it was Helen, he didn’t need to see the photograph the Englishman handed across to Officer Santos. Romero drank in her name, Helen Jones. It suited her. So she was twenty eight, that sounded about right too. He watched the Englishman intently and wondered how he could have gone so long without talking to Helen. At first Romero hoped the man was her brother, or boss maybe, but when the Englishman said she was his fiancée Romero felt sick to his stomach! He hadn’t been naive, he knew there was a possibility that there was a boyfriend in Helen’s past, but not a fiancée! That was different. Romero looked at the Englishman with contempt - if Helen was Romero’s fiancée he would never have gone a day without knowing if she was safe, well and happy, never mind needing to hear her sweet voice. Romero wondered how this man could have gone so
long without talking to her? He didn’t deserve her!
“So, is that her?” Officer Santos asked Romero.
“Yes, that’s Helen.” He answered quietly.
The officer reached for the telephone, Oliver Chapman would probably be long gone by now so he would have to telephone him, but he stopped at Romero’s hand slammed down on top of his.
“What are you doing? Wait. We don’t know if she wants to be found yet.” He said not budging when the surprised officer tried to push his hand off.
Officer Santos sighed, “Okay Romero, she was your find, so you get to call the shots. What do you want to do?”
“Her fiancé” he almost spat the word out, “might be an influential multi-millionaire but we still go by the book. Put this into the system but give me time to check it out first. I want to go to her apartment, I’ll take her with me to see if she remembers anything.” He said eyeing the piece of paper with the details the first officer had given him.
“But that’s in Estepona, hundreds of miles away in Andalucia.”
“I know that, but I can’t just tell her who she is and send her on her way. She still has no memory - we need to check this out first. Remember, I found her hurt.” Romero said sternly, he wasn’t budging on this. It wasn’t enough to tell Helen who she was and just let her go. If she was going to go back to her old life without remembering anything about it or who she was, then he wanted to be the one to check it out first, and take her back to it.
“Sí.” The officer nodded as he turned to the computer and started to input the data.
“Santos, do me a favor. Run a check on Helen Jones and see who she is, what she does, her family, that sort of thing.”
Officer Santos looked up again and nodded; he had heard the English woman had been staying with Romero, and he had a feeling Romero’s interests in the case were far more than professional. Even when he heard the rumours going around the station he found it hard to believe; Romero was as straight as they came, straighter even - he wouldn’t bend the rules for anyone, and that included himself. He highly doubted Romero would get involved with a person in a case he was working on. Now, however he guessed the rumours were true, this was definitely more than just a case for Romero. This was personal.