The Spanish Hotel

by Gary Philpott

  After watching Claire slump back in her chair, Stuart took control of the conversation. “Had you spoken to Alice before the night you left the bar with her?”

  “No, we had made eye contact a lot, the signs were there, but she seemed happy with the older guy. We never spoke until the Wednesday night after he left the bar. She bought me a drink. Even then I was steering well clear. It was a drop more alcohol and her dancing that oiled the wheels of lust.”

  “Let’s take it as read what you did together that night, and the next night come to that. I’m more interested in what Alice said about Hasem. Did she give you any indication of what the argument was about?”

  “It makes sense never to talk to a girl about her other men. Though she did say he didn’t want to spend much time with her anymore. I know Alice drove down to Motril on her own on Wednesday, leaving him here without the car. She only popped back to the hotel on Thursday for a change of clothes.”

  “Just stop there would you?” Stuart realised there might be some conflict between Hasem’s statement Collins had emailed him that afternoon and what this lad was saying. “First, did you say Alice drove to Motril on Wednesday? Not Thursday?”

  “Alice was with me most of the day Thursday. We went for a long walk and a small picnic in an olive grove along the way. Alice went shopping in Motril on Wednesday. I know she ate with Hasem at the restaurant on Wednesday night, but then parted company here in the bar that night.”

  “So she definitely went to Motril without Hasem during the day on Wednesday?”

  “Yes. I know it was Wednesday because on Friday I had to go to Motril myself. I had someone I had arranged to see. I had played it straight with Alice. She knew I was meeting someone else on Friday, I told her the first night when we walked from here to my villa.”

  “That’s not a problem, I just needed you to clarify those points for me. That was it was it? Hasem was effectively giving Alice the cold shoulder?”

  “Yes. She said something about him being rude, to invite her out here like he did, and then give up on it halfway through the week.”

  “Hold it Pepé, there you go again, your impression was that Hasem invited Alice to come here? Not the other way round?”

  “For sure, yes. Alice was a little bit insulting of my home village really. She didn’t understand why the guy wanted to come here so desperately. Her words were ‘why come to a place where the only thing to do is fuck, and then stop doing even that.’ I guess it is a bit like that to a stranger.”

  “Did you know Alice booked the trip here?” said Stuart sceptically.

  “No I didn’t, but that doesn’t make me a liar. They definitely came here because he wanted to come here.” Pepé’s voice betrayed a little bit of anger.

  “Okay, no problem. That’s a little riddle for me to solve. Did Alice say anything else about Hasem?”

  “No, all I can tell you is that other people have told me she was back with him on Friday night and they left early on Saturday.”

  “I don’t want to trouble you any more tonight, but would you mind writing down those key points tomorrow and signing your statement? Maybe we could meet at La Bodega at midday?”

  “I look forward to it.” Pepé made fleeting eye contact with Claire and stood up. “And thanks for the drink. By the way,” he looked directly at Stuart, “you’re a lucky man to be shagging that tonight.”

  Claire grinned from ear-to-ear upon hearing the compliment. She enjoyed pondering on the thought that her age did not seem to stop him from finding her attractive.

  The next day, Claire was sitting out on the balcony of their room when Stuart arrived back from his afternoon’s work. Putting one hand on her shoulder he leaned round to kiss her, and then held up a small pink plastic bag. “I bought us a couple of cans of cold drink and a bar of Swiss chocolate on the way back, just to see us through to dinner.” Stuart pulled open the bag to show Claire its contents. “Did you get something to eat earlier?”

  “Yes, I found a great little bakery. If you go up the hill towards the Bodega, but turn up the little lane on your left by that shop that sells the household stuff, its about a twenty yards up there. I had a wonderful Ham Bocadillo.”

  “So you had a good afternoon then?”

  “I did, yes. I followed a track that runs up the valley and discovered something you might not be happy about.”

  “And what might that be? You didn’t find a shoe shop did you?”

  “No, but there are a few houses and a bar only a few hundred yards past the dodgy bit where you tried to turn around.”

  “Don’t tell me there was a roundabout round the next bend, because I won’t believe you.”

  “No, but there was a side road you could easily have used to turn around in.”

  “It doesn’t matter now anyway, we’ve got a replacement car. A guy from the car hire place turned up while I was taking Pepé’s statement at the Bodega. They couldn’t get a replacement light unit until Monday, so they gave us another car instead.”

  “Stuart, please tell me you checked the glove box before you let them drive it away.”

  “No, sorry, I didn’t.”

  “Shit, I took my earrings off on the way here yesterday and put them in the glove box. The expensive ones you bought me for Christmas.”

  “Sorry Claire, I didn’t think to check it,” said Stuart sadly. “But the guy from the hire company did.” He grinned.

  “You bastard, you’ll pay for that.” Claire reached over to the bar of chocolate and snapped the first row of squares off without unwrapping it. As she peeled away the gold foil she changed the topic of conversation. “How was Pepé today?”

  “If you mean by ‘how was Pepé’, did he make his statement? Yes he did. If you mean, did he ask after you? No he didn’t. I can always leave you here for a couple of weeks if you like.”

  “No thanks. I liked his body, but I didn’t really like his attitude to women. Anyway, did you get his statement scanned in and emailed off?”

  “Yes, and what’s more, I did as you suggested by inviting the local bobby along. He seemed to appreciate the gesture.”

  “I thought he might.”

  “I also got a reply from George. I don’t want to talk out here, so why don’t you come inside and I’ll read his email to you.”

  “Ooh, that sounds all very cloak and dagger.”

  “Not really. It’s just that it’s confidential, and noise tends to travel from balconies.”

  Claire went inside and sat on the only place to sit, the bed. Stuart pulled a sheet of A4 paper out of his briefcase and joined her. They both leant back against the black wrought-iron bed end.

  “Okay daddy, read me my bedtime story.” Claire pulled a pillow up behind her back and wriggled to make herself comfortable.

  “Judging by the way this is written, I think George was a bit fed up when he wrote it.”

  Stuart started reading from the sheet of paper. “Thanks for the information. You have done a good job in a short space of time. A quick update: A friend of Alice Evans by the name of Joanne Masters called into Southgate nick when she heard about her death. Chas went over there and interviewed her. Joanne was the person Alice phoned from the balcony at about seven in the morning. She confirmed Hasem was not up and about at that time. She also knew about their trip to Spain together, and confirmed that they fell out half way through the week. The most significant bit of new information was that during the second half of the week, Hasem spent hours watching a couple through binoculars from the hotel room where you are now.”

  “The fact that this Joanne confirmed the obvious still intrigues me. As you know, there was no landline at the apartment, and we failed to find Alice’s mobile. This new witness said it was quite state of the art. That suggests the person that pushed her took the phone to make our life difficult, or it went over the balcony and some scallywag or the other picked it up and made off with it. If Hasem took it, he hasn’t got it now. We have turned him over big time. Neit
her has he got her passport.”

  “That means we have to be aware that there could be someone out there with Alice’s mobile phone, passport, and who knows what else.”

  “There are some very large discrepancies between what your lad out there says, and what Hasem has been saying to us. Alas, discrepancies do not amount to evidence. A bad memory can be used to defend many things.”

  “We have absolutely no evidence to indicate that Hasem did not leave Alice’s apartment at least an hour before the fall. I had an officer reconstruct his journey from the bus stop to the LSE, and although he trimmed twenty minutes off the time Hasem claimed it took him, it leaves sufficient room for a variable traffic congestion argument.”

  “Add to this the fact that we have absolutely no evidence that he pushed Alice off that balcony, we could not charge him with murder.”

  “As for the anal sex rape allegation, that would be impossible to prove. The evidence from Aisha at the Foreign Office is just hearsay. We know Hasem and Alice used condoms when they had sex, so that rules out even the faintest hope of finding any semen where the sun does not shine. If we did prove the physical side of it, with the only person that could testify to lack of consent lying in the mortuary, again, we would never get a conviction.”

  “Hasem was the last known person to see Alice alive and he failed to come forward. It is very suspicious indeed, but the CPS would not prosecute on the evidence we have.”

  “Therefore I am going to recommend an open verdict at this stage, and recommend we release Alice’s body to her family. Take a couple of more days out there to see if you can find anyone else to verify your lad’s account of events and anything else you might dig up. I have to say at this point, I find his suggestion that Alice only went to Spain to accompany Hasem does not sit comfortably with the fact that it was Alice who paid for the flights, car hire and hotel.”

  “So after two more days of arduous detective work in the Spanish hills you will be free to belatedly take the leave you had booked. Where you take it is up to you. Regards, George.”

  Claire lent forward and putting one hand on Stuart’s thigh twisted to face him.

  “Does that mean light duties here for two days and five days in Nerja?”

  “That seemed to be the suggestion, yes. I’ll ask Alfonso if he knows any good hotels in Nerja.”

  “No need. We are going to stay at the Balcon de Europa. Half term ends this weekend, so all the Brit tourists will be flying back to Blighty as we speak. And that means the Balcon has some very good internet deals for next week. I checked it out before we came here.”

  “Were you hoping this would be a cul-de-sac of an investigation?” asked Stuart.

  “No, but I was expecting it to be. Why else do you think I brought a large suitcase?”

  “I don’t know, just in case it was cold up here I guess.”

  “Ah, now that’s the other thing. As you know, hill walking is thirsty work, so I had a drink in that bar up the hill I told you about. They had the television on in there and the weather forecast suggests it’s going to be in the high twenties all along the Costa del Sol next week. Well, up to Wednesday at least. That’s as far as the forecast went. It seems my white bits are about to become less white.”

  “I love it when you’re a bit off the wall like this.” Stuart pulled her towards him and then rolled her over so he was lying on top of her.

  “Unbutton my blouse for me would you?” Claire smiled.

  Stuart pushed himself up on his arms and moved his legs so he was kneeling over her thighs. Teasingly slowly, he popped open each button in turn and then pulled the bottom of Claire’s blouse up out of her jeans. Sliding his hands up over her body he loitered a moment on her breasts, and then set about pushing her blouse over her shoulders.

  Suddenly Claire started wriggling to turn herself over. Once she was lying face down, she held her arms back for Stuart to pull her blouse off.

  “Unhook my bra would you?” said Claire.

  “I didn’t need to be asked,” Stuart flicked it open with one hand.

  “The massage oil is on the bedside table, you don’t need a lot.”

  “Hold on, I had other ideas.”

  “I know you did, but you owe me. Remember the promise you made when I pushed you out of the mess you drove us into. Twenty minutes is what we agreed. No point complaining. A promise is a promise, so you might as well get started.”

  Stuart reached over for the strategically placed bottle of massage oil and flipped open the cap. “Twenty minutes and then those jeans are coming off.”

  “I look forward to it. Just remember what the man said, you’re a lucky man to be shagging me.”

  “He used the word ‘that’, he was referring to you as a sex object.”

  “And if you do this properly, that is exactly what you will be shagging in twenty minutes time.”

  “Alfonso.”

  “Yes Mr Doyle. Is there a problem with your breakfast?”

  “No. The breakfast is fine.” A bit basic, thought Stuart, but he had nothing to complain about. “Thanks for doing us a late one. No, I just wanted to know. Can I have a minute or two of your time? We seem to be the only ones here.”

  “I have a barrel to change before lunch people come. But sure.” He pulled out a chair and joined them at the largest table in the bar.

  “Have you any idea why a man would be so desperate to come here? To stay at this hotel? To stay in this village?”

  “It is quiet. Nobody ask you why you are here. You do not meet people you do not want to meet.”

  “To get away from it all?”

  “Yes. It is a good place for couples to relax.”

  “Is that why you never asked for my passport?” asked Claire.

  “You are el Inglése policía. No problem.”

  “But you never insisted on Hasem’s passport either,” injected Stuart. “That’s why you couldn’t tell my colleague who Alice stayed here with when she phoned you.”

  “I don’t know.” Alfonso started to get up.

  “Alfonso, it’s not a problem,” said Claire. “Stuart is just trying to find out why Hasem wanted to come here. The more he knows, the more likely it is that he can find out who it was that killed Alice. Maybe it was not Hasem. Stuart needs to establish that.”

  “That’s right. I’m not here to investigate you.”

  Alfonso reluctantly sat down again. “It is complicated. I think you say it is history. If I tell, you no report.”

  “No. Confidential,” said Stuart. “Between you, me and Claire.”

  Claire smiled. “I Googled you in the bar up the road yesterday.”

  Alfonso looked confused. He did not speak.

  “Hotel Verde Vista Spain came up on a few websites I visited, recommendations from people who had stayed here. You are popular with people who have a liberal attitude to sex, aren’t you?”

  “Sorry, no understand.”

  “A lot of your guests change partners when they are here.”

  “Sí.”

  “Tell me about it Alfonso.” Claire touched his hand.

  “History. I did not plan it. Men would phone. Ask for single room. I have no single room. They say, double is okay. They come to my hotel. They go to room alone. They go out. When they come back, they have lady with them. They do not take breakfast, no problem for me. I grow to accept this. One person book the room, two person sleep in it. They have a nice time, I make money, everybody is happy. It is also good for the village. If there are no affairs, no tourists stay at Verde Vista, and they do not spend money in the village.”

  “It started with affairs. How about…?” Claire deliberately failed to finish the sentence.

  “I do not advertise. I do not ask to be on websites. It just happened. They rent two, three, four rooms. Different people, different rooms, I pretend not to see.”

  “You turn a blind eye?”

  “Sí,” he sighed.

  “Thank you for telling us that,” sa
id Stuart.

  Alfonso turned to Claire and smiled. “I enjoy it now. It is good to see lovers enjoying the sunshine.”

  “Are most of your customers English?”

  “Some. Not many. Many are from the cities, Madrid, Granada, Malaga. Times, they change. Now it is sometimes the women who phone. The women are not as shy as the men.”

  Claire laughed, as much to put him at ease as anything else.

  Having discussed this over dinner the night before, Stuart let Claire continue the questioning. Alfonso seemed to be finding it cathartic to tell a woman about the discreet side of his business.

  “We think Alice and Hasem did come here as lovers. But there are plenty of hotels in England where people can be lovers. Have you any idea as to why they came here Alfonso?”

  “Sunshine, alfresco food and alfresco…” He blushed. “Some of them have no shame.”

  “I understand that.” She gripped the back of his hand lightly. “But there was some other reason. We know he watched a couple through a pair of binoculars.”

  He gently patted the back of Claire’s hand with his free hand. “Three o’clock, I show you.” He then got to his feet. “Three o’clock.”

  “Three o’clock,” said Stuart.

  “Yes.” He turned his back on them and walked towards the bar.

  “That explains why this is the most popular bar in the village.” Stuart spoke quietly.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, it must be quite entertaining. You can almost imagine the locals taking bets on who will come down to breakfast with who the next morning.” He chuckled and gulped down the remains of his coffee. “Any bets on three o’clock?”

  “Let’s just wait and see. Is there anyone else you want to talk to?”

  “Nope, we seem to be down a cul-de-sac again. Maybe three o’clock will throw something up.”

  A loud clunk came from behind the bar. Alfonso’s upper body appeared as he stood up. He pressed a button next to where he kept the room keys and then set about rolling an empty barrel out of a door at the far end of the bar. The bright shaft of sunlight it let in made Claire protect her eyes by dropping them down to the table.