“Obviously, I’ll try my best to help.” It was a rare moment to hear someone compliment my detective skills without dismissing me as a lucky amateur. Even the newspaper write-ups and local TV reports had treated me as little more than a curiosity.
It had nothing to do with luck. I was good at being a detective. I knew that now and was tired of pretending otherwise. A murder had been committed and I would do whatever it took to find the killer.
Chapter Nine
As the police tended to their enquiries, I had my own investigation to begin. Kabir had his ears open to whatever was going on so I followed him to his office to find out what he knew.
“This isn’t something for young ladies to get involved in,” he told me from behind his desk.
I did not appreciate his rather old-fashioned response to my enquiry. “Did Ramesh not tell you? I’ve already assisted the police with three murder investigations.”
He looked unsure how to reply. “Yes, but, Izzy…”
I thought you were done pretending? Tell the truth. We did more than just assist.
“I’m being modest. I should have said I solved three murders.”
“Three murders!” he looked impressed. “My apologies, Izzy, this is definitely something that young ladies should get involved in. What do you need to know?”
That’s more like it.
“Last night, was the gate locked? Could anyone have got into the hotel from the front of the property?”
“No, absolutely not. We are upgrading the security system at the moment, but the exterior is well monitored and the fence is alarmed. I would know if anyone came in.”
“So then how did the girl get on the beach?”
He raised one finger, to make a correction. “Oh, yes. She came in but no one else. It was around two o’clock in the morning, Ramesh was on shift on the desk and buzzed her in.”
“And what did she say? Where did she go after that?”
“That’s what the police asked me. They came to get the surveillance footage from the hotel cameras and I showed them what happened when she arrived. All she said on the intercom was that she wanted to visit a guest. Ramu was half asleep and didn’t think to ask which one. The video cameras at the front of the hotel show that she walked up the drive and round the side of the building towards the beach.”
“What about other guests? Did they show up on any cameras around that time?”
Kabir glanced down at his desk dejectedly. “The only cameras installed inside the hotel are the one here in reception and one in the main lobby. Somebody could have gone down in the lift and accessed the beach through the garden and we wouldn’t have caught them on any camera.”
“So, we can’t rule anyone out then? If no one else came into the hotel last night, the killer must still be here.”
“Well… I suppose that’s true.” His normally direct manner had disappeared. “Such a terrible event as this one could tarnish the reputation of The Cova Negra. Or, even worse, we could be swamped with murder tourists who come here to relive the crime.”
“Is that a thing?” I asked, forgetting for a moment my own morbid obsession.
“Yes, Izzy. It is very much a thing.” He nodded seriously. “There are all sorts of strange people in the world.”
It suddenly occurred to me that, despite the fact he was my best friend’s uncle, he was a suspect like everyone else. “Kabir, you have to trust me this week. I can’t say that I’ll be the one to work out what happened, but I’ll try my hardest to find the killer.” I waited for my words to sink in before continuing. “You must tell me what you know as soon as you know it.”
“Okay Izzy. I will, I really will.” His usual warm smile had returned. “But the police have taken the footage away and the Inspector told me their experts are already examining it.”
“What about this morning? Did you see who was first up?”
“I didn’t get the chance,” he said with a roll of his fingers on the desk. “You were the first person I saw down here, the others appeared for breakfast after nine o’clock.”
I was probably getting ahead of myself. It was hard to investigate a murder without knowing anything about the victim. The fact is though, that Marco Romanelli was travelling with a gun and had looked like death itself when the news had come in about the girl on the beach.
A million possibilities flooded my mind.
Was she another Next Phase groupie? Or perhaps a young lover Marco didn’t want his wife finding out about? The girl was local, which could mean Álvaro needed investigating as much as the man he was following. Or maybe the two old Spaniards knew the girl and invited her to the hotel.
I thanked Kabir and went to see Ramesh to find out whether he’d heard anything. I’d learnt at Vomeris Hall that it’s often the staff who know the most about what goes on around the place and, for that week at least, Ramesh was chief dogsbody. I found him propped up in the kitchen, practically asleep on his feet.
“I feel terrible, Izzy. If I hadn’t let her in… If I’d at least asked who she’d come to see… she might never have died.”
We got to work drinking thick, Spanish hot chocolate that Cook had kindly whipped up for us. It was completely inappropriate for the hot weather, but sweet, delicious and endlessly comforting.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Ramesh. It’s not your fault. You were barely awake. You’re still barely awake.” The miserable expression on his face was slightly undermined by the chocolatey moustache that formed above his lip.
“Most of the guests don’t seem that bothered.” He wiped off the back of his hand. “The way some of them were talking, you’d think they were the ones who’d been murdered and dumped on a beach. That Ian bloke is a total waste of space.”
“His family aren’t much better.” I took a teaspoon to scrape out the last traces from my mug. “His kids are little hell raisers and his wife doesn’t say a thing about it.”
This at least brought a smile to his face but it was soon gone again. “I just can’t believe how cold they’re all being. Marco Romanelli was the only one who was moved by the situation.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. Did you overhear anything he said?”
“Well, yeah, Izzy. I heard them speaking a bunch of Italian and I’m pretty sure they weren’t talking about the Mario Brothers.”
“What about Delilah Shaw? She’s been acting weird the last two nights. Perhaps she knows something about it.”
“It’s possible, I suppose,” Ramesh looked deep into his mug, as if the pattern of chocolatey residue could spell out the truth. “She was chatting away with that old Spanish couple just now. It’s funny how everyone here speaks English.”
“Never mind that, what were they talking about?”
“She was banging on as usual. You know what she’s like; she doesn’t approve of anybody in the world who isn’t exactly like her. I think she was complaining about young people and hoping that the Spaniards would be sympathetic to her nasty rhetoric.” Ramesh clicked his fingers. “That was it. She was saying how the girl probably brought it on herself.”
“And what did the Spaniards say?”
“It was funny, I thought they’d just go along with her to be polite, but the old woman really told her off. She said it was wicked to be so heartless when a young girl had died. And the old man joined in to say that it’s not just the young who end up in sticky situations and that she should have more compassion.”
“I bet Delilah really loved that.”
Just then, Cook began to grumble more loudly. She’d been fussing around the kitchen the whole time, unimpressed by our lingering. It was clear she didn’t want us on her territory so Ramesh put the mugs in the dishwasher and we left the kitchen together.
“I don’t suppose she could have done it?” Ramesh asked, his face stony serious.
“
Nah, it’s never the cook.” I was about to remind him that she’d gone home before the murder occurred when we emerged in the dining room and Álvaro came up to us.
“Listen, Izzy, I’m sorry about before. I really think we should talk.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Ramesh said. “I’m sure there’s some work to be getting on with.” He wandered off to see his uncle who had emerged from his office and was in mid-conversation with the Romanellis.
Álvaro pulled me over to the side of the room, away from prying ears. “I know something about Marco Romanelli he wouldn’t want getting out. Tell me what the girl looked like on the beach.”
I was getting tired of the journalist’s pushy manner. I guess it came with the job, but he wasn’t doing himself any favours. “Why would I tell you that? You’re just as likely to be involved in this as he is.”
“I promise you, Izzy, the Romanellis are dangerous. It wouldn’t surprise me for a moment if Marco was the murderer. He’s ruthless. I’ve seen it time and time again. The further I look into his organisation, the darker it gets.” He paused to fix me with his determined glare. “Tell me what you saw on the beach, what harm can it do?”
I studied him for a moment, trying to get a feel for what sort of person he really was. He was older than I first realised, late thirties maybe. Up close, his skin was strangely lined and papery and there was no warmth in his eyes. I could see some of the ambition there that I’d noticed in Marco himself. But it was true, even if Álvaro had killed poor Maribel and left her on the beach, describing what I’d seen would give him no great advantage.
“The girl’s a brunette, which hardly makes her distinctive around here. I’d say she was in her mid-twenties, with a round, pretty face and green eyes.”
“And a mark on her cheek. How do you call it in English? A little brown thing in the shape of a heart below her right eye?”
“A mole?” I pictured the girl more clearly in my mind. “That’s right. How did you know?”
I could see that my response had shocked him. He looked over at Marco who had returned to his daughters at their table. “This is bad, Izzy. I’ve been a fool.”
“Álvaro, I’ve struggled to understand a single sentence you’ve said to me since we met. What do you think happened and how are you involved?”
Still glancing around the room nervously, he pulled me further from the other guests. We were right in the corner, whispering away to one another like overly conspicuous spies. “I’ve been able to discover a lot of nasty stuff about the Romanelli Empire. Sources have told me that the violence linked to their organisations is directed from the top down, but no one will go on record against him. They’re scared.”
I had no reason to believe everything the journalist had to say, but would have obviously listened to his story if Inspector Bielza hadn’t interrupted us again.
“Ladies and gentleman,” she said in a dramatic tone which instantly caught the attention of everyone there. “I’m afraid that we are now dealing with a murder investigation. Which means you are required to stay in your rooms until we come to get you for your interviews. If anyone does not obey this command you will be arrested.”
Unsurprisingly, Ian Dennison was not happy about this. “Hey now, this is not on. If you lock my kids up in the bedroom, you’ll have more than one murder on your hands. They need to go to the beach!”
The young officer stepped forward to talk to calm him down but the inspector didn’t need any help. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr Dennison. Nobody will be leaving this hotel until we find the murderer of Maribel Ruiz.”
Chapter Ten
I was the first to be called for my interview. I don’t suppose it’s standard procedure to conduct formal enquiries in a hotel conference room, but, with so many people to talk to, it was the obvious choice. I had no doubt that any suspicious characters would be dragged down to the station for further questioning.
It reminded me of my first police interview, six months earlier. I’d been terrified as I sat through my grilling from Irons and Brabazon, certain that I would say the wrong thing and incriminate myself. And here I was again, up in front of a steely detective having just discovered a dead body. The difference this time was that I was an old hand at police interviews and there was no way I was going to get all nervous and say something stupid.
Inspector Bielza watched me through those raptor’s eyes of hers. “Why are you here, Miss Palmer?”
I took my time before replying. “Urmmm… You asked me to come?”
“Not here in this room!” She shook her head and I realised I’d already said something stupid. “Why are you in Spain? Why are you at this hotel?”
“Ohhhhh. Well, it’s a bit of a long story actually. You see a while back now, I discovered my boss’s dead body in his office. The police suspected that I was involved but I had nothing to do with it. In fact it turned out that it was my boyfriend who’d killed him.” I came to a halt with a smile on my face, hoping I’d said the right thing.
Izzy, stop talking so much.
“Yes, Miss Palmer we all know about your incredible detectiving abilities.” She ended the sentence with bendy-finger air quotes. I’ve never trusted people who make that stupid gesture.
She shouldn’t be so smug. Detectiving isn’t even a word.
“Oh, you read about it too, did you?” I was surprised how far my fame preceded me. It seemed I was better known in Spain than I was back home. “Well, anyway, after all that – and then my other boss getting killed, and the time I went to a caravan park and my neighbour there was murdered…” I stopped myself and cleared my throat. “After all that, I needed a proper holiday so my friend Ramesh, whose uncle owns this hotel, suggested we come here.”
She slowly crossed her legs at the knee. She may have heard of my previous success with murder enquiries, but she did not seem impressed by it. “Well, thank you for that very complete reply. Had you ever seen the dead girl before today?”
“No, I hadn’t.”
She looked at me like she didn’t trust me to give such a short answer. “And do you know how she was connected to the other guests in this hotel?”
“I’m afraid not.” I thought about adding to my answer, but decided it was a bad idea. Then I changed my mind again and did so anyway. “I already have a few theories though.”
“Oh really.” She crossed her arms this time. “Please, tell us what we’re missing.”
“I’m not suggesting you’re missing anything, I’m just saying that there are certain conclusions we can already draw.”
“Go on.” She glanced at Agent Torres who was sitting next to her. Their table was positioned in front of the curtainless window so that the light came in behind them and they looked like two silhouettes on a wedding invitation. It was beginning to hurt my eyes. “I have an eagerness to hear your idea.”
Ha, thinks she’s so clever. Her English is only about 98% perfect.
It was time to show them what I was made of. “Okay, first up, the girl is in her mid-twenties.”
“She’s twenty-seven,” the junior officer explained.
“Right, so she came to the hotel alone in the middle of the night to meet one of the guests, but who could that have been? She is Spanish and the only two Spaniards staying at the hotel are old enough to be her grandparents and, from their accents, come from a region in the far south of the country.”
I was getting into a groove now. “It might seem too much of a jump, but given the hour, I’d say it’s most likely that she was here to meet a man. If we exclude the live-in staff, one of whom is my best friend and the other his uncle, there were only three men staying at the hotel last night. One is an oafish, overweight Brit who, having spent more than three minutes in his company, I find it very difficult to imagine a pretty, young Spanish girl being interested in.”
I paused to make sure
they were still following. “That leaves us with two possible suspects. The first is a well-known journalist, who you recognised him immediately. I suppose it’s possible that Álvaro Linares could have asked a source to meet him late at night. Or even that he was romantically involved with this girl, but, in either case, it would have been more discreet and more logical to arrange a meeting away from the man he is investigating and a place he could be tied to.”
She smiled, but there was little joy in it. “I see. So you’re suggesting that Marco Romanelli is behind the murder.”
“It stands to reason.” I admit that I’d started to get cocky.
“Does it really?”
“Absolutely.” For a moment, I thought she was genuinely impressed. “He’s not only a world-renowned public figure, he’s a millionaire and the most handsome man here. A young woman might easily agree to meet Marco Romanelli in an unfamiliar place after dark if she thought she could get something out of him. Who knows what that was in this case? Fame, money or something else that adults get up to late at night.”
Izzy, you prude. You’re not seven anymore. You can say the word sex without getting into trouble.
Inspector Bielza was full-on grinning by now. “What a remarkable mind you have, Miss Palmer.” The moment she opened her mouth I knew I’d made a mistake. “The only issue with your hypothesis is that the video cameras show that Marco Romanelli left the hotel at one o’clock last night and did not return until four this morning. The preliminary findings of our forensic pathologist suggest that Maribel Ruiz was murdered shortly after she walked through the gate at two o’clock.”
“Oh,” I managed to get out. “Okay. It wasn’t Romanelli after all.”
So, in the end, Bielza was not bowled over by my uncanny skills of detection, nor did she take me on board the investigation to assist in the hunt for the killer. Once she’d run through the standard questions I expected from her, she let me go again with little comment.
“Do I have to stay in my room?” I asked, determined to get something out of the experience. The whole thing had been conducted in English, so I hadn’t even been able to impress her with my foreign-language skills. “Or, can I help Ramesh and Mr Khatri look after the hotel?”
A Corpse on the Beach Page 7