They let the air out of their lungs like they’d been holding their breath for the last thirty seconds.
“I’m so glad we see eye to eye.” Heike looked at Lio to make sure she was saying the right thing. “I would hate for us to argue.”
“I’m really sorry.” My words hung between us as I thought up an explanation. “I probably only said those thoughtless things because I’m jealous that you got a photo with Marco.”
Lio started laughing and I wondered if this was an example of Austrian humour. It was way over the top and, when Heike joined in, she sounded even less natural than her friend. They stopped at the exact same moment and silence returned.
I think it bears repeating that these two are world-class weirdos.
I’d finally got to the question I was most eager to ask them. “Had you ever met him before this week?”
Heike looked uncertain so she deferred once more to her more confident companion. “Oh, no. This is our first Next Phase conference.”
“Weren’t they in Vienna a couple of weeks ago? Didn’t you think of going there?”
“Yes, but…” Heike faltered once more and received a stern look from her friend. “…but we thought we’d make a holiday out of it. We love Spain.”
“Yes we love Spain,” Lio added with all the passion you might use to talk about your favourite brand of toothbrush or floor cleaner. She relaxed a little then and smiled brightly. “Let’s go into the water. We have a beach ball to play with. Izzy, will you join us?”
“You go ahead. I think I’ll stay here and read my book for a while.”
The two girls stood up and, with one of their trademark nods, daintily pranced off across the sand and into the sea.
They’re lying.
Of course they’re lying. Nothing about them is real.
I’d been so taken in by their stereotypically Teutonic weirdness that I’d failed to realise it was all an act. They’d lied about meeting Marco and they’d lied about their connection to Next Phase. Good actors plan out a backstory for their characters. I had no doubt that Ramesh could tell you any number of details about his alter ego, Mandrake Carmichael, but Heike and Lio hadn’t told me a single thing about their real lives. The only topic they could talk about was Next Phase.
Maybe they’re the thieves and they’re just pretending to be interested in the movement as a cover story?
I grabbed my book from my bag and spent the next twenty minutes attempting to read a single page as various explanations swirled around my mind.
Chapter Fourteen
By the time I left the beach for lunch, I was thoroughly frustrated. My hour there had only dragged up more questions and I felt further than ever from mastering Poirot’s methodical approach to detective work.
My brain certainly wasn’t helping by singing the whole time.
Oh we do like to be beside the seaside!
Oh we do like to be beside the sea!
Oh we do like to stroll along the prom prom prom,
Something something something something diddly om pom pom!
I tried repeating business-minded buzzwords like “Method. Order. Technique,” to help me focus, but I was so busy chanting them in my head, I forgot to apply them.
You have to admit, twelve suspects (fifteen if I was being truthful with myself) is a lot for anyone to get through. Okay, there are ten in “And Then There Were None” and there are thirteen key passengers in “Murder on the Orient Express” but Christie had been writing for decades when she came up with them and this was only my fourth case.
Besides in “And Then There Were None” that number drops pretty quickly. Why can’t some of our suspects be killed off?
I stopped halfway along the path back to the hotel, angry at myself for having such a thought.
It’s not that I want anyone to die, I’m just saying it would make our job easier.
I ignored my dark instincts and continued back to the hotel. By the time I’d showered, changed and made it to the dining room, it was time for lunch. Sagrario was sunning herself on the terrace while her husband spoke to Ramesh who was busy serving. Heike was already at a table, but Lio hadn’t appeared and the only other people to have made it down were Mrs Dennison and her kids. There was still no sign of Ian or the Romanellis and Delilah Shaw can’t have been hungry after the breakfast she’d devoured.
Kabir was zipping in and out of the kitchen, distributing starters to the occupied tables. Gianna Romanelli appeared and was looking about for her family and things were almost back to usual. If it hadn’t been for the occasional crackle of a police radio and the presence of Inspector Bielza in the corner making notes, I might have been able to imagine it was a normal holiday.
I followed Ramesh to my usual table, and was just about to order, when the illusion was shattered.
I’d never heard a gunshot before. There was a weird silence just before it happened, like all sound had been extinguished to add resonance to the moment. Three succinct bangs in quick succession shocked everybody into stillness. They froze us in place like a superhero’s ice-ray and, for five seconds, all we heard was the running of guests on the upper floors and seagulls screeching outside.
I told myself I was being dramatic and it was probably just a car backfiring or balloons popping, but then the Inspector burst into life. She jumped to her feet, shouted to her subordinates to follow her and was halfway up the stairs before I could even move. For once, there was no inappropriate grin on Ramesh’s face as I caught his eye. His uncle was so distressed that he had to sit down in the nearest chair to cope with the drama and Gianna Romanelli still hadn’t found her kids and looked terrified.
“Stay down here, Izzy,” Jaime shouted to me from the upstairs landing as I reached reception. “It could be dangerous. Everybody stay down here.”
“What happened?” Heike’s voice sounded less mechanical than normal. “What was that sound?”
I didn’t answer. There was nothing to say and no way to say it. All the guests who had been present in the dining room came to stand next to one another at the bottom of the stairs and we remained there in stasis. We were unable to go forward or back, stuck in that moment until some outside force could jolt us free.
Celestino had collected his wife from the terrace and, with one arm around her shoulders, now whispered some soothing explanation. A fairy tale, to keep her calm.
“It’s Álvaro Linares,” one of the officers announced as she ran back downstairs to block off the front door. “He’s dead.”
Lio followed the officer down from her room and I watched Heike to see if this revelation could trigger any reaction but she remained calm. It was Celestino whose response surprised me. Still huddled close to his wife, he had tears in his eyes. The detective in me wanted to know why he would cry for someone he didn’t know but another much more human part of me understood that such sympathy was only natural. He was crying because a man had been murdered and there was no excuse for such a thing.
Everything happened at once after that. More police officers shot down from the first floor like starlings flying about the hotel. Jaime came to talk to Kabir in the dining room and the two of them worked their way around the perimeter to ensure nobody could escape.
“Where is your husband?” the female officer barked at Gianna in Spanish but the Italian still looked stunned.
“She wants to know where Marco is.”
Gianna peered between the two of us, unable or reluctant to form the words required of her. “I thought he was down here…”
“Dad’s up in our room,” her eldest daughter replied, coming in off the patio just as Kabir was about to lock the door. Her little sisters were behind her and all three carried tennis rackets and sports bags. “What’s happened?”
No one answered but the skinny, older officer who had reappeared at the top of the stairs left to l
ocate the missing Romanelli.
There were important questions to be asked and I didn’t wait for the officer but turned to Mrs Dennison myself. “Where’s Ian?”
“His room…” she replied and made a confused whimper as Jaime translated for his colleague.
“I thought he was desperate to go to the beach?” the dashing lawman snapped and I got the impression he’d received an earful on the topic that morning.
I figured I’d help pile the pressure on. “You said he was having a nap two hours ago. What’s he been doing since?”
The poor woman began to tremble but, just then, Inspector Bielza reappeared with Ian beside her. “Found him in his room,” she shouted to the junior officers in Spanish. “Has anyone seen that dreadful woman?” They looked back uncertainly. “You know, she looks like Belén Esteban. Big lips, too much makeup.”
I didn’t know what she was talking about, but the other officers laughed gravely at her comment.
Must be Spanish humour.
Jaime and the sole female agent ran to the lift just as Delilah Shaw appeared from the direction of the leisure centre with a towel wrapped round her. A few minutes later, the forensics team turned up again. I bet they hadn’t expected to deal with a double murder when they woke up that morning.
Once Marco had been located and all of the missing players were in place, Bielza chose a spot halfway up the grand staircase. Just behind her, one of the golden-framed mirrors reflected a beam of sunlight onto her like she was the protagonist in an old movie. She was ready for her close-up.
“We are in the presence of a murderer.” She waited for the resultant buzz to die down before continuing. “I might have been willing to believe that the first death could have occurred without your involvement, but that is no longer possible. No one has left the hotel since Señor Linares was murdered and, unless there’s someone hiding upstairs that my officers failed to find, I can now count the potential suspects on one hand.”
Her presence and intensity were impressive. Standing high on the stairs above us, she was a colossus; a great unbending force who might pick any one of us from the crowd to devour or turn to dust. She cast her gaze around the assembled hotel guests and it drilled into each of us, guilty or otherwise. I knew I hadn’t done it, but that didn’t make it any less painful to stand before her.
“I have a good feeling for which of you is the killer, so I wouldn’t get too comfortable just yet.”
She held the attention of every last person there. From the pool boy to the waiter, the cleaner to the barman… No, wait a second, that’s all the same person. I’ll start again… From Delilah Shaw and Marco Romanelli right through to the police officers who were arranged in an oppressive semi-circle around us, no one uttered a word for fear Inspector Bielza might have more to say.
When just the right amount of time had passed, she broke her own masterfully engineered silence. “No one is to leave the hotel. My officers will be stationed here from now until I arrest the killer.” Her searchlight vision panned across us once more. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”
Chapter Fifteen
Okay, so; Marco, Delilah, Lio and Ian. That’s a more workable number.
Four? If anything it’s too easy. We might as well go down to the spa and have a nice afternoon to ourselves. We could pick the killer from four possible suspects in about twenty minutes.
Stop being so cocky.
As the others went off to have lunch, I approached the inspector. In many ways, Nerea Bielza del Toro was everything I aspired to be. She was confident, brave and powerful; a woman who inspired fear and admiration in equal measure.
She remained on the stairs, watching the crowd disperse and I had trouble getting my words out. “Álvaro was investigating Next Phase and knew Maribel. We all saw Marco threaten to shoot him last night. Are you still so sure that Romanelli isn’t involved?”
She looked at me with her typical dubious glare. Her mouth was so straight and rigid you could have used it as a ruler. “I appreciate your colourful theories, Miss Palmer. But Marco Romanelli was not in the hotel when the first victim was murdered. There is no possible way he could have been in two places at once.”
The way she spoke then surprised me and I could tell that she was holding something back. “So where was he?”
“How do you mean?”
“Where was Marco Romanelli when he wasn’t at the hotel?”
I’d provoked my strongest reaction yet from the cast-iron lady. She narrowed her eyes one tiny fraction.
“Listen, I’m not trying to be difficult.” I was hoping a more reasonable approach might win her around. “The longer this takes, the more damage it does to my friend and his hotel. Kabir is a lovely man. I don’t want him suffering because of all the terrible things that are going on here. We’ve had two murders and a string of robberies. He’s only been in charge a couple of months, it won’t do his TripAdvisor rating any good.”
She pursed her lips and took her time. “Okay, Miss Palmer. What exactly do you want from me?”
She was standing three steps above my own. It was an odd sensation to have to crane my neck to look up at someone and I felt a pang of sympathy for some of my shorter ex-boyfriends.
“Let me into Álvaro’s bedroom. Let me get a feel for what happened in there. Maybe I can help.” I was less than confident that she’d grant my request. “Come on, what harm can it do?”
“I don’t know how the police do it in Britain, but we do not let amateurs or aficionados poke around crime scenes.” I was about to argue with her again when she continued. “But, if you wait until the forensics team and the pathologist have finished their initial investigation… maybe I’ll let you in.”
I did that embarrassing thing where I punched the air like the hero in a 1980s action movie. “You won’t regret this, boss!”
She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. But, in actual fact, I was beginning to see the case clearly for the first time. Theories ran through my head. Connections formed between the four suspects and the two victims. I could see a way through to the truth now. All it had taken was another dead body.
You’re welcome.
Of course, knowing what to do and carrying out a plan are two very different things. I made my way into the dining room to look for Marco. I was sure, if I had him on his own, I could work out how he was involved. I hadn’t reconciled the paradox of his absence from the hotel when Maribel was murdered, but he was still the obvious killer and my investigation was only just starting.
“Izzy, can I have a word with you?”
Ian Dennison was the first roadblock on that journey to the truth. Marco was right there, on his own, waiting for his family to return from the bathroom and Ian bloody Dennison stood between the two of us.
“I’m a bit busy now.”
“It’s just… I didn’t realise who you were at first. It was my wife who pointed it out. You see, we live in London, so we saw the news reports about you and I think I’ve got something important that you might want to hear.”
In the time it had taken him to say this, my window of opportunity had closed. Marco Romanelli’s family had returned and accompanied him over to a table for lunch.
“Go on then, Ian,” I replied with a sigh. “What is it you’ve got to tell me?”
“You see, the thing is. Our room is just opposite this dead bloke’s and I heard him shouting down the phone. Just before he was killed, I heard him shouting something over and over again.”
I admit, boring Ian Dennison had surprised me. I assumed that whatever he was going to tell me would be of absolutely no use whatsoever. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Great, what did he say?”
“Oh, I don’t actually know what he said. It was all in Spanish. I don’t speak any foreign myself.”
“So why did you think this would be helpful?”
�
�Well… It shows he was angry with someone. It shows that someone would have wanted him dead.”
Before I could shout at him, slap him or bite him, I took a breath and calmed myself down. “We know somebody wanted him dead, Ian! They shot him three times with a gun.”
“Yes, but maybe if you checked his phone records, you can work out who it was.” He spoke in a manner which suggested I should have been the one to think of this and, while he had a point, it seems unlikely the killer rang Álvaro to tell him they were coming by for a visit. It was more likely that he’d been talking to his editor as that is exactly what he told me he was going to do.
I decided to find out what other dramatic facts he was party to. “What did you do when you heard the gunshots?”
He narrowed his eyes conspiratorially, like he was about to deliver the key piece of evidence to solve the case. “That’s the thing, I’d fallen back asleep and wasn’t really with it. I’d only wanted to lie down for twenty minutes, but the nap had knocked me right out.” He bit his lip and looked up at the ceiling to show that he was having a good old think. “It’s probably the jetlag.”
I didn’t have the energy to explain that you don’t get jetlag several days after a two-hour flight. “So you didn’t go out of your room to see who shot him?”
He started laughing then and his fiery cheeks jiggled. “Go out there when I was all sleepy and there was someone with a gun? I’m not a total moron.”
Oh? Just a partial one?
“Thanks, Ian. I’m sure this information will come in very useful. You should tell the police every last detail.”
He looked pretty pleased with himself and went off to bore Inspector Bielza with the same story.
There was no way I could talk to the Romanellis with their children there so I settled for Delilah Shaw. Actually, I was pretty hungry and decided to make it a working lunch.
“Mind if I join you, Delilah?” I pulled up a chair before she could say no. “We had such a nice chat this morning, I thought we should pick up where we left off.”
A Corpse on the Beach Page 10