“The last time you saw her was the early hours of Sunday morning?”
“Yes.”
“Okay Pepé. Tell me all about this lady called Kamela, from the moment you first laid eyes on her until when you left her at the party.”
“The Wednesday. I first saw her sitting on the balcony to her room, late on the Wednesday afternoon.” He took a mouthful of wine and smiled before swallowing it. “Our eyes met, I knew we would fuck.”
Jessinia laughed and spat out two Spanish sentences.
“What did she say?” asked Doyle.
“Oh nothing. Just that it was obvious the woman was looking to fuck. Jessinia had also seen her that afternoon. Kamela was not wearing a skirt or trousers, and her top was flapping open. Jessinia referred to it as a declaration of availability.”
“Did you speak with Kamela?”
“Not verbally, though our eyes spoke to each other. What surprised me was that as far as I know she didn’t fuck anyone on Wednesday night. When I said that to our police, they seemed to think that was because she was expecting her husband to arrive the next day.” He looked to Gomez for support.
“That was the theory. However, whether or not it was correct, it was irrelevant.”
“Hang on a minute.” Doyle sat up straighter. “Are we saying she looked like she was gagging for it on Wednesday afternoon but behaved like a nun on Wednesday night?”
Only Pepé seemed to understand the question immediately. “Oh no, she didn’t behave like a nun on Wednesday night. All I said was that as far as I know, she didn’t fuck anyone.”
The waitress walked towards the table with a basket of bread held out in front of her. As she put the basket down on the table she said: “Excuse me. The lady you are talking about was in here on the Wednesday. I can tell you she was looking for sex.”
Gomez spoke in English. “Are you saying she hit on Philippe?”
“No, she hit on me. Wednesday and Thursday.”
“Are you sure?” Doyle’s voice betrayed his scepticism.
“Yes. She asked if I would like a drink with her after work.”
“Did you have a drink with her?”
“No. I told her, I only like men. She laughed and said I should give it a try. On Thursday she asked if I had changed my mind.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“Saturday night. I did not see her Friday but I saw her Saturday. I was walking home from work and she was on her balcony.”
“Ah, that would have been when she was waiting for me,” interrupted Pepé. “I had arranged to meet her in the bar but she was up on the balcony.”
“Tell me miss,” Doyle turned his head towards the waitress. “When you spoke to her here, did she say anything about where she was from, or anything that might help us find her?”
“No. She only asked me questions about me. Like when a man is trying to get into your underwear.”
“Have a think about that miss. If you think of something that might help us, contact Juan.” He gestured towards the Spanish officer.
Doyle directed his next question at Pepé. “Did you think she was bisexual?”
He shrugged. “Define bisexual. If two heterosexual women put on a lesbian show to please men, are they bisexual? Over in Ibiza, English girls are always kissing and groping each other. They do it to focus the guys attention on them, to get first pickings.”
“Okay, let me define it then. Did you get the idea this Kamela would have sex with another woman in the privacy of her hotel room? Just the two of them.”
“Maybe. She went to Rosita’s party. Most women who go to them swing both ways. We are not talking about women who only have sex with their husbands.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Doyle caught sight of Jessinia nodding her agreement. He wanted to ask more questions about such sexual behaviour, but recognised it was only to satisfy his own curiosity, and not to progress the investigation.
Doyle moved the questioning on: “We got to Wednesday. When did you see Kamela on Wenesday?”
The waitress retreated back to the kitchen as Pepé answered.
“In the hotel bar. She was drinking and dancing. I bought her a drink but she went to her room alone.”
“I’m get mixed messages here. On the one hand she is being portrayed as a nymphomaniac who doesn’t mind if she gets laid by a man or a woman, but you say she went up alone. Tell me more about her behaviour in the bar.”
“She was flirting big time. Prick teasing might be a better way to describe it. There were times when you could see straight through her dress, when there was a light behind it.”
“And you say you bought her a drink, but that is as far as it went?”
“Yes. To be honest I thought it would do the trick, but it didn’t.” Pepé reached out for the bottle of wine and topped up his glass.
“But it was you who took her to the party?”
“Yes. I invited her while I was fucking her on Thursday.”
“Whoa. You had sex with her on Thursday?”
“Of course. She bought me a drink and then headed for her room. I didn’t wait for a second invite.”
“And was she dancing and flirting that night?”
“A little, but she was upstaged by Rosita. Rosita was a very popular woman around these parts. Many of the men in the village would have loved an invite to one of her parties. Rosita was always the centre of attention when she turned up anywhere in the village.”
“Did Kamela and Rosita talk to each other?”
“No. Rosita was much more subtle than that. She was in the bar to assess the new girl in town but left it to me to invite her to the party.”
“Hang on. You seem to be suggesting Rosita knew about Kamela.”
“When a fit woman sits on a balcony overlooking the main road in, well, not a lot, the news spreads quicker than a whore’s legs.”
“Do you think Kamela knew about the party and did what she had to do to get an invite?”
“It is a theory,” injected Gomez. “It is a good theory too. If she was one of the sex tourists who come here, she may have known about the party. It is also possible that her husband had an invite.”
“Forget the husband bit,” said Doyle, without giving his reasons.
“Okay. The woman knows about the party and is looking for an invite she does not have.”
Both officers looked at Pepé, waiting for his view on the matter.
“I think so,” said Jessinia.
Everyone turned her way.
“As a woman, I think that is what she was doing. I think she got desperate and knew my brother would have an invite. I think she fucked him to get an invite.”
“No!” exclaimed Pepé. “She wanted to do it again another night.”
Jessinia reverted to Spanish. “Tan pronto como llegó a la fiesta, te dejó. ¿No te la follaste en la fiesta? ¿No?”
Pepé’s response told Doyle what the question was. “No, you are right, we did not do it at the party.” He grabbed a chunk of bread from the basket and started tearing it apart. “Fuck, I’ve been used.”
Jessinia giggled and took a mouthful of wine.
“Okay,” said Doyle, “I think it’s time to ask for some menus. The main thing I would like you to think about while we are eating is anything this Kamela said or did that might help us track her down. Did she mention a MySpace or Facebook page? Did she say she was a member of a club or organisation? Did she reveal anything about where she lived or her family?”
“Belly dancing, she had belly dancing lessons a few years back,” said Pepé.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. That’s all I can say for now.”
Gomez lifted his arm and shouted: “La carte por favor.”
Having not bothered returning to the station the previous night, Collins eased his conscience by being behind his desk by seven-fifteen. His first job was to read the update email Doyle had sent the night before.
“You were up late
Doyley,” he said to the computer screen as he noticed the time it was sent.
After reading it through a second time he sent his reply.
Stuart
It seems to me this Kamela woman is worth pursuing, I will leave you to decide how best to do that. Keep digging in other places though. The one thing we have on our side is the unusual luxury of time; we do not have to rush anything.
As I said on the phone, yesterday’s sortie on Hasem proved fruitless, so I retreated and lived to fight again another day. My next job is to start probing into all of Alice Evans’ nooks and crannies again, starting with good old Hasem.
The other line of attack is this junior minister, Douglas Phillips. Though I suspect I will need to tread carefully there.
Remember you are meant to be there on business, so when you get back, make sure you don’t walk into the station with a suntan.
George
The next hour was spent Googling Douglas Phillips.
At nine-thirty he gathered a small team together in the meeting room.
After updating the team on the case, Collins started to allocate tasks.
“Heather, I want you to focus on sniffing round this Douglas Phillips chap. From what I have gathered so far he got divorced in his late twenties, suspected of an affair with a party worker, but I never found a name for the unlucky lady. See if there is anything else a little bit shady on record. I have chosen you for this task because of your discretion, don’t let me down.”
“I won’t sir,” replied Detective Constable Muirhead.
“Chas. I’m allocating Hasem to you. The problem is; I can’t let you talk to him or anyone close to him. If he gets a whiff of this he’ll be complaining about police harassment.”
“I started a file on him back in October last year. I’ll start from there and see where it takes me.”
“Dave. I want you to comb through what we have on Alice Evans with me. I’m hoping a fresh pair of eyes might see something I missed the first time through.”
Collins’ real reason for assigning Detective Sergeant Dave Cusack to assist him was because Cusack could not be trusted to do anything discreetly. This way he could keep a close eye on him.
“That leaves Aisha Al Nuaimi.”
“I guess as the last man without a job, she must be mine,” said acting DC Perry Broxson.
“That’s right. But remember you’re not in Colorado now. You can’t kick down her door and point a gun at her head.”
“I’m learning,” he smiled. “That’s why I’m here, to learn about your quaint British ways.”
“And cricket.”
“Ah yes, cricket. That might well take a little longer than six months.”
Chapter 13
“Sir, how do you fancy a late lunch?”
Collins looked up to see Cusack standing in his office doorway. “I need to finish reading this pathologist report.”
“I think you misunderstand me. I think we should get out there and start investigating. From what I’ve read in the files, that café in North London wouldn’t be a bad place to start. You concentrated on eliminating this Jeff Tapper guy as a suspect, but maybe he can fill us in on what Alice Evans did after work, who she got jiggy with, that sort of thing. After that I think we should check out the coffee shop Alice is meant to have had lunch in. I am sure there’s a good reason for it, but the paper trail dries up down that line of enquiry.”
“Chas checked that one out.”
“I know sir. It is in the notes to be checked on but there is no record of the outcome. Anyway sir, why don’t we start at the café?”
“Okay, I could do with something to fill my stomach, I think this might be another long day. Let me ask Chas about that coffee place first.” He got up out of his chair and made his way out of his office. Cusack stepped to one side to let him by, but did not follow him over to Chas Harrington’s desk.
“How are you doing Chas, anything of interest?”
“Well, I already had his academic records here but something is not quite right with his BA. I’m looking into that at the moment.”
“By BA, you mean his degree?”
“Yes. He started a three-year course but took four years to complete it. I’m guessing he took a gap year or a business placement, but there’s no record of it. Are you happy for me to pursue this or should I focus on something a little later?”
“Chronological is never a bad idea. Keep your teeth into that bone for a while. Chas? You remember you went off to the coffee house where Alice and that Foreign Office bird went for lunch?”
“Aisha Al Nuaimi.”
“That’s the one. Well, there’s no record of your findings.”
“Oh shit, sorry. The thing was, it was a blind alley. I guess I did something else and forgot about it.”
“A blind alley?”
“Yeah. It was a Costa Coffee. They had CCTV on the door and the till but not on the tables. I never found any images of Alice. If you remember we were hoping to get some footage that could be lip read.”
“Chas, a blank can be just as significant as a positive outcome.”
“I know sir. I’m sorry, but there must have been a reason for it.”
“Okay, enough said. Let that be the end of the matter. Whatever you do, don’t chew over it, just get on with what you are doing.”
Interesting though, thought Collins as he walked back towards Cusack, perhaps another visit to Aisha might be worthwhile.
As they walked into the café on Denholme Street, Collins was pleased to see Mel wiping a table over. He noted that she seemed to be wearing exactly the same T-shirt as she had on during his last visit. Nice puppies, he thought to himself and smiled. It was a smile that did not go unnoticed by Cusack.
Mel looked up and immediately shouted: “Jeff, it’s the Old Bill.”
The place fell silent and the eyes of every customer focused on Collins and Cusack. A ginger-haired man in his late twenties took a slug of tea from his mug, folded his tabloid newspaper, got up and left without paying.
“I should watch that one miss, I suspect he might nick your salt cellars when you’re not looking.”
“His tips would cover it if he did. Jeff, did you hear me?”
“I’m coming. Come and finish this for me would you?”
Mel left her cloth and disinfectant spray bottle on the table, and tromped off to the kitchen.
The couple crossed under the archway in the corner of the seating area.
“Ah, DC... What can I do for you?”
“It’s Collins, Detective Chief Inspector Collins.”
“Oh yeah, I remember now. One of my uncles was called Colin.” Jeff Tapper sat down facing the disinfectant spray bottle.
“Don’t you have somewhere private we can go?”
“I ain’t got nothing to hide, fire away.”
The two police officers sat down opposite him.
As agreed in the car on the way over, Cusack started the questioning. “You socialised a lot with Alice Evans, did you not?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you usually meet her?”
“Oh, all sorts of places.”
“Mr Tapper, are you sure you would not prefer to go somewhere more private?” asked Collins. He then leant forward and whispered, “Your wife will be listening.”
“Don’t worry about Mel. We’ve worked that one out. Mind, I did have to have my Arsenal season ticket reissued, she burnt the original one I had. But no, Mel knew what I were like before we got hitched, we kissed and made up and we’ve agreed on an open marriage. She f…”
“Okay,” Collins quickly interrupted him, “I get the picture.”
“Now, where was I? Oh yeah, Alice. Usually what happened is she would phone me up and ask me to accompany her to some social function or the other. Just like Sheila told you. And as I said, sometimes she would come into the boozer if she were feeling frisky. Though not often like. It’s quite a way from her gaff.”
“Let’s fo
cus on the social events. Give us a list of the last five such events you went to with her.”
“Phew, that’s tough. There was her uncle’s wedding. I think you know about that because Sheila was there as well. Oh yeah, I accompanied Alice to Sheila’s office bash, one of those disco cruises down the Thames. That would have been towards the end of July, probably five or six weeks after her uncle’s wedding. There was some totty on the boat that night I can tell you.”
“Did you stay with Alice, or home in on another piece of totty?”
Collins smiled inside at Cusack’s question. He had his uses after all; he could drop down to Tapper’s level far more easily than he could.
“Nah, I stayed with Alice. That was always the deal, I pretend to be her steady and she rewarded me with a bit of how’s your father.”
Mel came through the archway carrying two plates of fish and chips and a large plate of bread and butter balanced on her forearm.
“And she stayed in role?”
“What do you mean?”
“She didn’t find someone more appealing?”
“You cheeky bastard. Nah, course not.” He turned his head and shouted, “Mel, table four are ready for their bill I think.”
“You were by her side all night.”
“No. We danced and flirted with other people but they were appetisers only.”
“Appetisers?” Collins could stay out of it no longer.
“Yeah. We knew the boat was docking at twelve. Once we were both horny as hell, we found somewhere discreet out on the deck.”
“Outside on the deck of a boat cruising along the Thames?”
“Oh, I see where you’re coming from now. Alice was like that. She liked it a bit risqué now and then.”
Collins looked at Cusack. “Carry on.”
“Look Jeff. I’m going to be straight with you. Some things have happened that mean we are getting a bit more insight into things connected to Alice’s death. Last time you were interviewed it was to eliminate you as a suspect. Do you know of anyone who it would be worth us talking to in connection with her death?”
“You’re still not buying that suicide shit then?”
“Open mind Jeff. Open verdict, open mind.”
“Look, the truth is there is rarely a day goes by without me chewing over her death. I’m convinced it was not suicide. Sure she got down sometimes, quite often after sex as it happens, but she always bounced back.”
The Spanish Hotel Page 17