The Spanish Hotel

by Gary Philpott

“I haven’t time for another drink,” said Collins upon his return.

  “Yes you have sir. Besides it will be the first of your five a day.”

  “What a malarkey that five a day nonsense is, my mum…”

  “It won’t do you any harm sir.”

  “It will make me want to pee halfway through the flaming interview.” He was already picking up the glass.

  “Sit down and take it slow.” Armstrong glanced at her watch. “You have twenty-five minutes.”

  “Aye, you’re right, we might as well sit here as sit outside the lecture theatre.” He put the glass down on the table and dropped onto his chair.

  “Does your wife not make you up a packed lunch?”

  “She used to, but not anymore. Maybe she knows I’ve got you to look after me,” he chuckled.

  “A woman should look after her husband.”

  “Has the women’s liberation movement passed you by?”

  “No, but I assume you are the main wage earner.”

  “Aye, you’re not wrong there.” He grinned to himself.

  “Well, there you go. Marriage is about being a team. If you earn the money, she should support you as much as possible.”

  “And you supported your husband, did you? Sorry, I should have said; your ex-husband?”

  “That was a bit below the belt sir. But as it happens, I did look after him. Perhaps I looked after him too much, and turned too many blind eyes.”

  “Like that, was he?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “He must have been a bit stupid if he cheated on you. Come on WPC Armstrong; let’s make sure we don’t miss Hasem. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s the type to finish his lectures ten minutes early.”

  The two of them waited patiently outside the lecture theatre.

  Finally the double doors swung open; about fifty students poured out.

  “Look at that shower, they’ll be running the country in fifteen years time.”

  “Well sir, let’s hope they do a good job. Both our pensions will depend on it.”

  “It matters not, our pensions are index linked.”

  “If things get tight, they’ll change the rules.” Armstrong fell silent and used her eyes to communicate Hasem’s exit through the doors.

  “Dr Al Saeed,” shouted Collins, “could I have a word?”

  Hasem stopped in his tracks and waited for Collins to come to him.

  “I’ve arranged us an office down this way. Would you mind joining me?”

  “Inspector Mullins, what is this about?”

  “It’s Collins sir. Detective Chief Inspector Collins.”

  “My question still stands.”

  “Let’s wait until we are somewhere a bit more private.”

  “The horse has bolted DCI Collins. You approached me with a uniformed officer in tow, in full view of my students. This had better be good.”

  “Oh, it is sir. Next door on the right.”

  Hasem led the way into the small cramped office. There was one desk and two chairs. The rest of the office was buried under a mountain of books and files. Even the desk was piled high with paperwork.

  “Do I need a solicitor?” asked Hasem as he sat down.

  “Not yet.” Collins sat down, leaving Armstrong standing by the door.

  “Well, can we get on with this? I have another lecture at twelve and I need to check I have enough handouts copied.”

  “When was the last time you left the country?”

  “January. I had a conference in New York.”

  “So you haven’t been to mainland Europe recently?”

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “You’re absolutely sure. I have someone checking it as we speak.”

  “My appointments diary is in my office. Borrow it for the day if you wish. Just return it once you are done with it, that’s all I ask.” He threw his hand out. “Check CCTV footage, I am sure I will feature many times. Ask my students.”

  “Okay Dr Al Saeed. Let me explain my problem.”

  “Please, if I can help, I will.”

  “You will remember being in Alice Evan’s bed the morning she fell to her death. You also know we are aware you spent time at a Spanish hotel, looking through your binoculars. At the beginning of this month a woman died in suspicious circumstances, at a villa you undoubtedly spied on. If you were in my shoes, would you say to yourself, not to worry, it’s obviously just a coincidence. Alternatively you might say to yourself…”

  “Say no more DCI Collins. I understand why you are here.”

  “So, what do you have to say in your defence?”

  “Look, the truth is that Alice’s death haunts me every day of my life. I often chew over the fact that somehow I could have been the catalyst that made her jump.”

  “How could you be the catalyst if what you said in your statement was true?”

  “I don’t know inspector. Maybe I took too much of what she put on a plate. Maybe it goes back to our time in Spain. I really do not know what was going through her mind that morning. Maybe it is because I don’t have the answers that I can’t stop going over it, over and over again. I believe grief counsellors call it closure. I don’t have closure.”

  “Tell me again about your binoculars. Why did you take them to Spain in the first place.”

  “I told you this at your police station. I was hoping for a room with a view over a swimming pool. I had a different image of a Spanish hotel to the one we ended up in.”

  “And you wanted a better view of the sun umbrellas?”

  Hasem sighed heavily. “Women DCI Collins, I was hoping to look at women in bikinis, or possibly women wearing just bikini bottoms.”

  “What did you look at?”

  “Women. And couples. Just as I told you last time. There were quite a few private villas in the valley below the hotel. They had swimming pools, they sunbathed, I watched. Two couples got frisky, I watched. There was nothing else to do in the village. I had argued with Alice, I had to make my own entertainment.”

  “These two couples, where were they? I would like more detail than last time.”

  “Last time I had my solicitor present. Why should I allow you to ask me the same questions without my solicitor present? Is this legal?”

  “Last time I had a tape machine running, you provided a written statement. Effectively this is a separate enquiry into the death of a woman in Spain. Just like last time you can choose not to talk to me without your solicitor by your side, but why would you?”

  “If I am innocent, I have nothing to hide. Is that it?”

  “That’s my view sir.”

  “Okay. What was it you were asking?”

  “The two couples you watched. Where were they?”

  “Two different villas. Perhaps I should explain. A small valley runs down from the village into a larger valley. One villa was quite close to the hotel, down on the left hand side of the valley. Something like five or six hundred metres away. The second…”

  “No, stick with this one for now.”

  “It was a typical white Spanish villa. A single storey building with steps down to a swimming pool. It was built on what I can only describe as two stepped terraces carved out of the hill. The villa was on the upper step and the pool on the lower one.”

  “Tell me about the couple you watched?”

  “Overweight in their late forties I would say. Do you want to know what they did?”

  “Briefly.” Collins did not need the detail but knew if he was fabricating he might well slip up when asked to repeat the story under caution at a later date. Such slip-ups were good for putting a witness on the back foot.

  “There was a green and white striped swing chair at the far end, a double chair with a canopy over it. They were on that, chatting and drinking. They had both been in the pool earlier.”

  “What colour were their swimming costumes?”

  “He was wearing navy-blue or black shorts. I remember that because she pulled them down
when he stood up, that is how it started. Her bikini was blue with splashes of red, possibly a floral pattern. Roses, something like that. It was definitely a bikini because I remember thinking she was more suited to a one-piece costume.”

  “After she pulled his shorts down she pleasured him orally. After that he took her top and bottoms off and threw them in the pool. It progressed from there to full sex. When it was all over they both skinny dipped. Is that enough detail for you?”

  “It is. Tell me about the other couple.”

  “The other villa was further away, quite a way down on the right.”

  “Describe it for me.”

  “It was bigger. The pool and the villa were all on one level.”

  “White?”

  “Yes, all the villas were white.”

  “The couple.”

  “Older. Older but fitter.”

  “What were they doing when you first spied on them?”

  “They came out of the villa and got in the pool.”

  “And…”

  “They had sex in the pool. The woman had her legs wrapped round the man’s hips.”

  “Were they naked?”

  “Obviously.”

  No obviously about it thought Collins, but asked: “Are you sure they were having sex?”

  “They were bouncing like they were having sex. I can’t be sure. Is it important?”

  “Could you photocopy the last four weeks of your diary for me. I don’t need the whole thing.”

  “Certainly.” Hasem stood up.

  Armstrong opened the door for the two men. Once they were out in the corridor she closed the office door and followed a few paces behind them, wondering why Collins had not arrested him as intended.

  Only when they were back in the squad car did she ask him. “No arrest then sir?”

  “He was too confident. I would have ended up down the station interviewing him in the presence of a solicitor in connection to a crime I am not officially investigating. Furthermore, I suspect he will be able to prove he was not in Spain at the time when the Spanish woman was killed.” He tapped the green folder on his lap. “I tell you, this is the first time a suspect has given me a nice folder to put my evidence in. Or should I say, to put his alibi in.”

  “The Spanish police are investigating it as a separate case are they?”

  “They are, but I doubt they are separate.”

  “It could be though couldn’t it sir? Who knows, we might both have been on holiday to somewhere where someone is murdered. That doesn’t mean we should be considered as suspects, does it?”

  “You’ll be telling me next that I don’t live next door to my neighbours.”

  Armstrong put on her I’m confused face.

  “I’ve heard it said that statisticians can prove you do not live next to your neighbour. You can see where they are coming from can’t you? What’s the chance of me living next door to you?

  “Slim.”

  “Exactly. Now, why is it any more likely that I end up living next door to the person who is my neighbour than it is that I end up living next door to you?”

  “I see,” she smiled.

  “No you don’t. And neither do I really.”

  “Still, it’s interesting though,” mused Armstrong.

  “Statistics is not interesting, believe me.”

  “No, I didn’t mean that. The work you do is fascinating. Sir, can I ask your advice on something.”

  “Fire away.”

  “I seem to be getting involved in a lot of wife beating cases. Which is fine in principle, but as you know, they rarely get resolved, which dampens down the job satisfaction. Now they’ve asked me to go on a social services training course. It sounds interesting, but do you think it might take me down a cul-de-sac?”

  “Do you mean a specialised rut you can’t get out of?”

  “Yes, that’s not a bad way of putting it.”

  “Well, a speciality usually opens up doors to promotion. On the other hand, if you don’t enjoy it, it could become a rut deeper than a tractor makes in a soggy farm field. If you go down that road, do it with your eyes open, that’s all I would say. Do a bit of research, see where other people who have trodden similar paths have ended up.”

  “I will, but I think I might let my heart guide me anyway.”

  “And what is your heart…”

  Two deep hoots came from a Lexus behind.

  “Whoops, it looks like the pro-vice-chancellor is here,” chirped Armstrong.

  “Bloody hell, I don’t believe it. You should have taken that bet on.”

  “You paid anyway sir.” Armstrong started the car.

  “Oh yes. Why did I do that I wonder?”

  Armstrong looked at him, as she found reverse. “I wonder.” She deliberately held back from asking him where he wanted to go next. Instead she went into one of her silent modes until they reached Oxford Street.

  “This never ceases to amaze me. Only buses and taxis are allowed down here, but it still clogs up.”

  Collins lifted his chin off his hand. “And coppers. Buses, taxis and coppers.”

  “And fire engines. And dustcarts.”

  “Maybe everyone goes slow because they are looking for the golf sale.”

  “It could be that sir,” she laughed. “Where to now?”

  “I thought you were heading back to the station.”

  “Is that where you want to go?” Armstrong gulped. “How do you fancy a cup of coffee at my place? It’s not too far past Marble Arch, only about ten minutes or so.”

  “I am sure yours would be superior to the stuff from the machine, but I might as well wait until I get back to the station. Anyway, I prefer tea.”

  Armstrong braked the car down to a standstill behind a queue of buses waiting for the traffic lights to change. “When I said coffee, I meant… You know.” She laughed nervously. “You can’t get that back at the station.”

  Collins’ jaw dropped half a centimetre. He turned his head her way. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

  Momentarily she thought about apologising. In a split second she bit the bullet. “Sorry sir, I sensed you liked me. Sergeant Foster said you wanted me for continuity reasons, but I got the idea that was not your only motive for requesting me to assist you on this enquiry.”

  “Oh, I like you. You’re a very nice lady.” The word ‘but’ hung on his lips without leaving his mouth.

  “I had the idea that Mrs Collins and you no longer indulged.”

  “No. Separate rooms. It’s been that way for quite some time now.”

  “Well. We’re two adults. There’s no man in my life to upset…”

  “It’s a bit early in the day. You would have to park this squad car outside your house.”

  He is obviously weighing it up, she thought. At least I’ve not been rejected. “I was in work before six. You were probably there not too much after that. We deserve a cup of coffee.”

  “Aye, it’s been a long day.”

  “You’ll be working late as well by the sound of it. There’s a residents-only parking area at the back of my place. My neighbours must know I’m a copper, I’ve been in and out of my house wearing this uniform plenty of times.”

  She looked him in the eye for a second or two. The lights went green.

  As Armstrong turned away again so she could focus on the bus in front, and a taxi edging in from her left, Collins said, “It could be fun.”

  His statement brought a smile to Armstrong’s face. “That’s the general idea. It is meant to be fun you know.” Confident that her persistence had paid off, she added, “And if you don’t like this uniform, I have a nurse’s outfit hanging in my wardrobe. It may be a bit tight now, but I’m sure I could squeeze into it.”

  “Just a bit of fun you say. Yes, that would be nice, let’s go to your place for a cup of coffee then.” He then mumbled: “Maybe this sex malarkey isn’t so bad after all.”

  “Sorry, what was that last bit?�
��

  “Just drive. Talk to me about something else would you, otherwise I might change my mind.”

  “I would be insulted if you did.”

  “Believe me, you wouldn’t be the first woman I’ve insulted.”

  “Do you think petrol prices will come down?”

  “What? Ah, I’m with you now. I doubt it. How would the oil companies double their profits if they dropped the price?”

  Chapter 10

  Collins was just drifting into dreamland when Doyle and Gomez joined Alfonso in his family’s sitting room.

  “Thank you for talking to me,” said Doyle.

  “No problem.” Alfonso smiled nervously.

  “I know you have been interviewed by the Spanish authorities, but I need you to pretend you haven’t. Let’s go back to the beginning of April, I believe Señora Ortega was in your bar during the week prior to her party?”

  “Yes. She was here on the Thursday.”

  “In the evening?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who did she socialise with that night?”

  “Many people. Señora Ortega was a very sociable woman.”

  “Any strangers?”

  “No, just people from the village. She danced with many men. It was a good night.”

  “Did she leave alone?”

  “Yes she did.”

  “That was confirmed by all the villagers we interviewed,” added Gomez.

  “I assume they all had alibis?”

  “They all gave details of their main activities over the period, but alibis, no. At the time I was involved in the investigation we did not know the time of death.”

  “Can you help me with that Alfonso? When was the last time you saw Rosita alive?”

  “The Monday morning after the party.”

  “So she was definitely alive two days after the party.”

  “I saw her sunbathing.”

  Once again Gomez backed up what Alfonso was saying. “ We tracked down the last couple to leave the party. They were reliable witnesses and they left Señora Ortega alive and well late on Sunday morning.”

  “And you saw her sunbathing on Monday?” Doyle looked at Alfonso. “Through your telescope I presume.”

  “Yes.”

  “Was anyone else with her Monday morning?”

  “No, she was alone. Someone could have been in the villa. No one outside.”