A Corpse on the Beach

by Benedict Brown

  Jaime bit down gently on one lip before replying. “Nothing. We know of no connection between him and Santa Maria del Mar. And all those photos from his youth in Italy showed were that he hung around with rough kids and priests.”

  “Perhaps it’s what’s not in the photos that’s most significant. The killer wouldn’t have left anything incriminating. We have to work out what’s missing to understand why Álvaro was killed.”

  “Or, on the other hand, the photos might have nothing to do with the murder and that’s why they weren’t taken.”

  I didn’t like his answer but it made sense. A giant question mark was floating above The Cova Negra Hotel. My mind was overflowing with theories but, even if I could work out who the killer was, I wasn’t entirely sure I could prove it.

  “Do you think Bielza would really cover for Marco if he was guilty?” I took another sip and regretted it. It tasted like kitchen cleaner.

  Jaime let out a sigh. “It’s hard to know. She’s a tough woman, which doesn’t make her a dirty cop. But something about the way she acted today made me doubt her.” He glanced up at the building we were sitting beside. His eyes traced a path from window to window, up to the third floor. “I don’t know if it’s just because Marco’s famous. I mean, how deep does her connection to Next Phase go? I have no idea why she went to their conference in the first place. I’ve worked with her for several years but she’s an incredibly private person.”

  “If we can work out what happened ourselves, there would be nothing she could do to stop us. We’d bring Marco to justice somehow. So, let’s concentrate on the facts, not who might be trying to cover them up.”

  He smiled at me then and jingled the ice in his glass. “Okay. What are you thinking?”

  “No, you first. I want to hear every hypothesis you can come up with. No matter how crazy or unlikely. Maybe by ruling out all the impossible ideas, we’ll come across something that makes sense.”

  He raised his glass to that and we spent the next hour bouncing theories off one another. Danny looked on jealously throughout and Ramesh occasionally came by to persuade us to dance. But when the drink had run dry and it was time for Jaime to go home, I felt we’d moved a tiny bit closer to understanding why Maribel and Álvaro were in the Santander morgue.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I woke the next morning with the dawn and, unable to sleep, decided to hunt around the hotel for Kiki Dee. She was much more independent than I could ever be and poor Elton was clearly pining for her. He’d hardly touched the ham sandwich that Ramesh had prepared for him.

  Though they all had rooms of their own, Danny, Mum and Ramesh had ended up passing out in my suite. I guess the drinking had continued after I’d slipped off to bed, as the mini-bar was empty and the lounge was a mess. Still, it was Ramesh who’d have to clean it up, and at least he’d got to enjoy himself first.

  When my search for the missing cat proved fruitless – which was yet another mystery I was struggling with – I returned to my room to work on the three lists in my head. My suspects were clear, but the list of clues didn’t get me far. The photos, gun, diamonds and other stolen goods were on there, but as I couldn’t be sure who’d taken them, this didn’t get me very far. What I needed was one of those perfect Christie-esque objects found at the scene. A left-handed pair of scissors perhaps or a single, size-sixteen shoe. Or even something which would at first seem insignificant but ultimately lead me to the killer.

  Perhaps there’ll be another body and you’ll get your wish.

  Would you stop that!?

  I sat by the window listening to the sounds of the hotel waking up. Kabir was surely downstairs already, getting the place in order for the breakfast rush. He would be busy without Ramesh on hand.

  At least he won’t have as much work to do with Álvaro checked out.

  I told you to stop it!

  I thought about David. He’d be waking up, in a cell without a view. He’d have a day of accusations and nasty evidence to get through and I felt a bit closer to him in that moment. Even spending time with Danny again couldn’t make me forget about David and my sadness and regret were running wild.

  Alright, enough of this. Pick yourself up, brush yourself off and let’s go and have that full English breakfast we’ve been planning.

  Ahhh, I like your thinking. Something we can finally agree on.

  “Izzy, Izzy! It’s terrible!” Kabir rushed to talk to me as soon as I reached the ground floor. “Ramesh hasn’t slept in his room. I think he must have been… murdered!” The poor man’s face was wracked with fear.

  “Naahhh,” I said in a silly voice for some reason. “He just got drunk with Mum and Danny. He’s sleeping it off in my room.”

  He looked even more appalled at this news than the idea his nephew was dead. “That lazy little so and so. I’ll see that he gets down here, you mark my words.”

  The normally cheerful man rolled over to the lift and punched the button.

  “Urmmm… what about breakfast?” I asked a second too late and the door closed behind him.

  As there was no one on duty, I popped into the kitchen to order up the greasy treat for myself. Cook seemed less scared of me than she previously had. Perhaps Ramesh had put in a good word.

  I requested my “beicon con huevos” and she nodded and got frying. I was the first one to breakfast and helped myself to some cereal while I waited for the real food to begin.

  Izzy, I know I give you a hard time, but I just want to say, thank you. Paella last night and a slap-up breakfast this morning. That’s brain food that is.

  When Ramesh made it downstairs, he looked like he had neither been to sleep yet nor woken up. He shuffled about like a mummy in a Hammer Horror film and could only fulfil requests which did not require him to think. He was the human equivalent of a wheelbarrow and carted plates back and forth to the kitchen on command.

  I was determined to make the most of my morning. Not only did I plan to sample every last delicious ingredient on the breakfast menu, I would observe each guest who came down. This would be the day I cracked the case wide-

  I thought you hated that expression. I thought you said it was cheesy.

  Nope, not anymore. I’m re-appropriating it. From this day forth, it’s okay to say.

  This would be the day I cracked the case wide open! I just knew it. My confidence was at an all-time high, I could see the wood for the trees and everything was falling into place.

  Lio was the first down to breakfast and sat at the far side of the dining room from me, staring over aggressively. I stared back as I spooned cornflakes into my mouth. But then there was a half hour wait for anyone else to arrive and my plan to play mind games with my suspects had to be put on hold.

  Finally, when Sagrario and Celestino took the table next to mine, I whispered across to them, “I’m on to you!” except I didn’t know how to say that in Spanish and all I could think of was, “I know you!” So they looked back blankly and whispered to one another like they were worried about me.

  They needn’t have been concerned. I knew what I was doing; I was stirring the pot. Delilah was the next down and I worked the same magic on her, only in English, so she understood exactly what I was talking about. She looked a little flustered and went to a table out of my line of sight. The Romanellis were the next to receive my, I know what you’re up to, treatment. I glared at them and it seemed to do the trick. Marco bustled his three girls past me, meaning Valentina didn’t even have time to throw a co-conspiratorial smile my way.

  There was no sign of Her Royal Highness, Inspector Bielza, but her sleepy underling at the front door popped by at ten o’clock to tell everyone that his boss would soon be along to make an announcement.

  I waved good morning to Heike and the two Dennison kids came down to breakfast on their own. I thought it was a bit weird but they seemed happy enough, pilin
g their plates with nothing but cakes and then indulging in a food fight. I didn’t blame them. Though clearly not the best-behaved children, I’d have enjoyed doing that when I was their age.

  It was another half hour before we discovered what was holding their parents up. Sharon Dennison came downstairs shaking her head and rubbing her hands together like she was trying to get them clean. “Ian!” was all she managed to get out and no one paid her much attention so I went over to speak to her.

  “Are you okay, Mrs Dennison?”

  Her eyes were fully panicked and it occurred to me that she’d come down in her pyjamas, though I’d only ever seen her dressed for breakfast before.

  “Ian didn’t come back,” was all she could get out to begin with and she took a deep breath and tried again. “He went out first thing this morning and was supposed to be here by now. I’ve been waiting for him for the best part of an hour.” Her voice was high and streaked with fear.

  “I’m sure he’ll be around here somewhere,” I tried to reassure her. “Perhaps he got a phone call.” I turned to the other guests. “Did anyone see where Ian went?”

  The room fell quiet as everyone considered the same possibility that had instantly jumped into my head.

  “Not since last night,” Heike replied and no one else said a word.

  “Come on, Sharon.” I steered her through the dining room by the arm. “Let’s take a look outside.” I shouted to Ramesh to keep an eye on her children, though up against those two he wouldn’t stand a chance.

  The sky was overcast that morning and spits of rain had started to fall. The air was still humid and the heat had not dispersed.

  “He said he was coming down here to meet someone. I was still half asleep when he left and didn’t ask who it was.” It was the clearest she’d spoken all week, but then the emotion got too much and her voice broke. “What if something’s happened to him?”

  I tried my best to comfort her but there was no sign of her husband in the garden, tennis court or the outdoor swimming pool and so, without discussion, we found ourselves drawn to the beach. Yet again, as I stepped onto those creamy-golden sands, my mood changed entirely. But this time, it was not joy or wonder I felt, but relief. There was no one there. No Ian, no body.

  The only sign of life was Kiki Dee. She was padding along the water line towards the cliffs nearest the hotel. I had to wonder if she’d spent her whole holiday down there, chasing seagulls or trying to catch fish when the tide came in. I kept walking as she jumped up onto the low rocks at the base of the cliffs and sat atop of them like she was proud of herself. Sharon Dennison had stayed behind where the path met the sand but I pressed on. That magnetic pull tugged me forward as I got to the rock pools and boulders and started to climb.

  There was a series of natural stone steps up to where Kiki was sitting. I scrambled on my hands and knees and had to pull myself up by my fingertips to get to the highest level. When I reached the top, I peeked over the edge of the rock to confirm my fears. Kiki was gently licking Ian Dennison’s battered face. He was looking straight at me, but the life was gone from him. He was just a shell now and nothing we could do would bring him back.

  There was no doubt about it, he’d come down from the ledge high above us and been killed on impact. Spurts of blood decorated the rock where his body had landed with a calamitous splat. There were bits of loose stone and turf lying about the place and, if his death wasn’t enough of a mystery, there on the ground beside him was the missing gun.

  My relief was replaced by sadness for the family who would mourn him. He’d either fallen, jumped or been pushed and, after the events of the last two days, I knew which was most likely.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was my first time dealing with broken-hearted relatives. I was more used to corpses who no one liked. Not that Ian Dennison was everybody’s cup of tea, but his wife was clearly distraught when I broke the news.

  “I’m sorry,” was all I had to say and she fell to her knees on the sand, tears already present on her cheeks.

  I’d picked up Kiki to make sure she didn’t contaminate the crime scene and she meowed very respectfully in poor Sharon’s direction. I called Ramesh at the hotel who sent the skinny officer down from the lobby and, within minutes, the whole circus had returned.

  Jaime was there with his tubby partner to take care of the grieving widow. There was more of the same for Santander’s forensic detection unit that morning. Bielza arrived just after them and then it was my job again to lead her to the body.

  “This is the last thing I need,” she said, as if she was the one who was lying there with her brains dashed out. She looked at me with her critical glare. “Weren’t you supposed to stop this from happening?”

  I thought that was a bit rich coming from her. “I told you who the killer was. This isn’t my fault.”

  She rolled her eyes as her officers got to work. “Don’t start with that again. Real life’s not like an Agatha Christie novel. More often than not, killers don’t manage to be in two places at once or even make it look like they were.” Her voice fell lower. “Marco Romanelli was with his mistress on the night of Maribel Ruiz’s death. We’ve spoken to her and she has confirmed it. There’s no way he could be the killer.”

  “Hardly sounds like an impartial witness,” I snapped back, tired of having my ideas ignored. “Have you considered that she’s lying?”

  “And how do you explain the witnesses who saw him in town that night? Or the fact he wouldn’t have been able to get in the hotel without showing up on a video camera?” Her casual disregard for my ideas was beginning to get to me.

  “Honestly, Bielza. Marco’s the only one who benefits from any of this. There’s more to say that he was involved than that he wasn’t. The rest is just details.”

  A smug look crossed her face then. “And the gun? Is that just a detail?”

  I tried to think of a comeback and failed.

  “It’s very clear to me now what happened.” She nodded to herself as she looked down at the carnage before us. “This Dennison was behind the whole thing. He killed Maribel, then killed the journalist and, when he couldn’t take the pressure, jumped from the cliff to end his life. Yes, that all makes perfect sense.”

  Her arrogance was overwhelming and I couldn’t take it anymore. “It makes zero sense. Why would he have wanted them dead? How did he get the gun? And why would Maribel have come here in the first place?”

  She was quick with her reply, though I could see her reasoning was only clicking into place as she went. “Maribel sneaked onto the beach late at night for a bit of fun, Dennison saw her and decided to take a chance on a pretty girl. When she turned him down, he killed her. Álvaro found out about it and so Dennison stole the gun and killed again.”

  She paused to slot more evidence into place. “Dennison’s room was just along the hall from Álvaro’s and it would have been no trouble to pretend to be asleep when my officers got there. Of course, the thing he hadn’t counted on was the guilt that comes with any murder. He couldn’t live with it so he got up this morning to end things. By bringing the gun with him, he confessed to his crimes.”

  “Hey, you’re pretty good at this,” I said in a sarcastic tone that she couldn’t fail to catch. “Have you ever thought of becoming a detective?”

  She turned to look at me, her gaze as hard and judgemental as ever. “You are a bad loser, Miss Palmer. You don’t want it getting out that you’ve failed in your one great talent, so you’re making up stories.”

  “I’m making up stories?” It’s not often I get really angry with someone, but all my pent up aggression was spewing out. “Your whole scenario is based on the fact he has the gun. But why would it have landed so far from his body? It could just as easily have been thrown down after his killer pushed him over the edge.”

  “Oh, please, it probably fell from his pocket when
he jumped.” She smiled then, like I was a foolish child and she had so much to explain to me. “Listen, Izzy. I know you’d like to believe that Marco Romanelli was, involved but there’s absolutely no evidence to suggest that’s true.”

  “We’ll see about that. We’ll…” I was out of words, out of ideas and out of breath. I knew there was no getting through to her. She’d made her mind up from the beginning and nothing I could say would convince her otherwise.

  I took one last look at the scene before leaving. There was poor Ian, splayed out across the brackish pools of water that had turned rusty red. The shiny silver gun was several metres away along the rocks with its silencer still attached but there were no killer clues, no all-revealing objects to serve up the murderer to me. Except for–

  “The gun,” I screamed at the inspector and if she hadn’t already thought I was crazy, she would now. “It has a silencer!”

  “What on earth is wrong with you, girl?”

  I didn’t answer her, but climbed down the rocks and raced up the beach as fast as I could. My long, gangly limbs have never been great on sand and it felt like I went slower the more effort I made. It definitely wasn’t the best encouragement for my new-found determination.

  Izzy, you’re annoyed at Bielza because she’s set out to prove that Marco isn’t the killer. Has it crossed your mind that you’ve made a similar mistake? The only idea you’ve entertained is that he’s our culprit. What if your obsession with him has made us overlook other evidence?

  You’re probably right but shut up and let me think.

  I kept motoring my legs across the sand because, even if I was getting nowhere, it felt good to try. When I finally got back to the hotel, it was my mother who was looking after Sharon Dennison on the terrace. The new widow was still bawling out tears.

  “Ian was such a fan of yours. He was so thrilled to meet you last night.” It was no surprise that my mother was the focus of attention even now.