by Mari Hannah
‘We just got a divorce.’
‘On what grounds? My snoring keeping you awake?’
His wounded expression made her laugh out loud. ‘It’s not helping. I believe irretrievable breakdown is the correct term. My people will talk to your people. Mine will insist on a fifty-fifty split of all bank accounts and a large chunk of your pension when you retire. You can keep your car. I wouldn’t be seen dead driving it. I never liked our poxy house, so you can have that too, along with the contents. I get the dog. Do we have a deal?’
They drove on, the banter between them lifting their mood. Only seventy kilometres to go – if they were lucky, they would make their destination by nightfall.
61
Kate slowed where tollbooths crossed the carriageway. Signs above each booth showed method of payment: cash, credit card or personal service. Fearing being left penniless in Spain, she drove towards one with a human behind the desk. There was no way she was using her personal debit card in case it was swallowed up. It had happened before, leaving her stranded.
A few minutes’ driving and they came to another toll-booth – another three euros.
‘Bloody rip-off,’ Hank muttered under his breath. ‘Bet half that goes in his pocket.’
‘You’re such a cynic!’ Kate held up a receipt. ‘Not everyone is on the take.’
Winding her window up, she drove on. Settling in his seat, Hank closed his eyes. She thought he’d fallen asleep, but the atmosphere grew heavy in the car. He was still awake with something on his mind.
‘You going to spit it out?’ she asked.
‘What?’ He opened his eyes.
‘You reckon we’re pissing in the wind, is that it?’
‘A bit.’ He looked out the side window, his tone flat. ‘Much as I fancy a luxury hotel, Brian Allen has been in the country for days. He could be anywhere by now. I agree that O’Kane might make his way south, but you heard Neena Gil, he was nervous, keeping his eye on the exit. He’ll be watching his six for sure. He’s not going to be a simple collar, is he?’
‘When was our job ever easy?’ Kate glanced his way. Hank didn’t answer. ‘Anyway, O’Kane wasn’t looking for us, was he? He was keeping obs on the door in case Brian walked in. He doesn’t know we’re on to him. How could he? Besides, he likes the premier treatment as much as the man he’s hunting. He’s arrogant enough to want the best, and that’s where we’re heading. Trust me, of all the places round here, La Manga is worth a try.’
‘You ever been?’
‘Years ago, it was wonderful. An oasis in the desert.’
‘Who with – if you don’t mind me asking.’
‘Old boyfriend.’
He turned to face her, a wry smile on his face. ‘How does that work then?’
Kate spoke through a yawn. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘I’d have thought that was obvious.’
‘Ah, I get you. You don’t know much about relationships, do you, Hank? Because I was with Jo doesn’t mean I’ve had no men in my life. You know I have. They may not have lasted long, but they did exist. If you want to know the truth, I just happened to fall in love with her. It was as much a surprise to me as it was to anyone. It’s hard to explain. It felt right, that’s all, like we were the perfect fit.’
They fell silent again, the miles rolling by as the road cut its way through flat land, orange and lemon groves on either side, mountains in the foreground. A caravan of foreign bikers passed them, a road trip Kate longed to be part of, their panniers and backpacks full to bursting, bedrolls securely fastened.
Freedom machines.
She pictured her Yamaha Fazer gathering dust in her hallway at home. She hadn’t ridden it in ages, something she promised herself she’d do as soon as this case was over. Maybe north up the A68, across the border to Scotland, an ideal route for bikers. The road took in the most dramatic countryside with plenty of viewpoints along the way. If only . . .
Instructing her to take the next junction, Hank broke her reverie.
Completing the manoeuvre, Kate glanced at her watch. ‘How much further?’
He checked her phone. ‘Twelve more clicks, if the satnav on here is accurate.’
A few minutes further on, the most spectacular sunset began to form on the horizon for the second night in a row. Pink and purple at first – then flame-red, orange and yellow – the whole sky on fire. It was a glorious sight. So much so, Kate asked him to take a picture to forward on to Jo. She’d appreciate that – assuming they were still speaking. Kate had lost track.
The Hotel Principe Felipe car park was an area of manicured lawns, pine trees and well-placed floodlights that came on as they entered the driveway. Reversing into the only space available, Kate felt the eyes of a concierge on the upholstered roller-skate she was driving. Most other vehicles in the lot were high-end hire cars with posh interiors and pristine paint jobs.
‘Talk about the poor relation,’ she said.
Hank grinned. He knew how much she loved cars and what a bummer it was for her to be driving the Seat Mii. Before she had time to moan, he was out of the car, his eyes scanning the car park for any vehicles or registration numbers that might suggest they were on to a winner. Returning seconds later, he helped her get their bags out of the boot, telling her there was nothing of obvious interest there.
Palatial was the word that sprang to mind as they entered the cool interior of the hotel. The lounge area facing them was an architectural masterpiece: a domed building with arched windows, marble pillars, a floor so clean you could eat off it. Chandeliers hung above sumptuous sofas, a place to chill out, read or write an email home – a thought that had Kate wondering whatever happened to postcards. Fiona Fielding, an artist she’d met on a previous enquiry, a woman with whom she’d had a brief fling, was the only one she knew who used them. She travelled all over the world sending cryptic messages to Kate, asking if she was hungry yet, an in-joke between the two of them. She was gorgeous too.
Kate was suddenly ravenous.
Hank went off to do a recce of the hotel bar while she checked in. As she handed their passports in at the desk, he arrived at her shoulder. Another shake of his head, almost imperceptible, was enough to let her know that there was no sign of their quarry. Picking up their bags, they walked to the lift that would take them up a floor. Kate handed him the plastic key to room 305.
It was too near the lift for her liking.
Shoving the key into the slot produced a green light. Hank pushed open the door to a luxurious room, made a joke about slumming it for a few days and stepped inside. Taking a quick peek, Kate fell in love. The contrast between this celebrated hotel and the one they had vacated at Guardamar had been evident the moment they entered reception. She had calls to make and asked Hank to meet her in the bar in an hour.
Room 308 was further along the corridor. It was perfect and smelled of fresh flowers. The bed was as wide as it was long, with crisp white linen and plump pillows that would send her off to sleep in seconds. There was a partner’s writing desk, two chairs, a comfortable armchair and a bathroom dripping with wonderful bathing products.
Heaven.
It was deathly quiet too.
Exactly what she needed to think through her case.
62
They ate in the hotel, their dinner conversation like a murder investigation briefing. No investigative theory would equip them with a nice neat plan of how best to proceed. For the most part, their campaign of attack was based on gut instinct rather than hard evidence. Intelligence had dried up and Kate was trying to second-guess what was going through the minds of the men she was chasing.
Murder, probably.
If she had a strategy at all it was for Hank to check out the clubhouse the next day. He’d fit in better than she would. Hearing this, Hank puffed out his chest, telling her he was on top doe. The three stones he’d lost following his reconciliation with Julie and his recent walking tour of Quesada were paying off. He felt energized, he told her
, ready to take on anything. Glancing at his plate, she wondered if her eyes were deceiving her.
No, he’d actually ordered sea bass.
Even more impressive: he was still on his first pint. Not bad going. They had already been there half an hour. He’d made a real effort to put his unhealthy lifestyle behind him and had finally turned the corner. His face was tanned, his eyes bright, his skin clear. It was no exaggeration to say that it had taken years off him.
‘I wish you wouldn’t scrutinize me so intensely.’ He studied her over the rim of his glass as he took a drink. ‘People might think we’re in love. I can see you’re already regretting the divorce.’
Kate laughed.
She’d missed his sense of humour in recent months. It was nice to see him so obviously relaxed, so happy that his marriage was beginning to work out. On the way to La Manga he’d told her that his son Ryan had returned home. The boy hated the south coast and couldn’t wait to get home to Newcastle and the mates he’d left behind. Curiously, Hank never once mentioned Julie. Maybe he didn’t want to spoil the magic. Maybe he didn’t want to tempt fate.
‘Do we have a plan then?’ he asked.
‘Of sorts.’ She picked up her knife and fork. ‘First thing tomorrow, I’m going to have a wander round, check out local businesses and doctor’s surgeries too.’ She smiled at him, a knowing look. ‘I know something you don’t.’
‘Oh yeah? What have I told you about keeping secrets?’
‘Theresa Allen let it slip that Brian is diabetic.’
‘What?’ Hank nearly choked. ‘When?’
‘Lisa managed to drag it out of her this afternoon.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Theresa didn’t think to tell us this before?’
‘Apparently not. Anyway, it’s a new lead, the only one we have. I intend to make the most of it. If Brian needs insulin to keep his hormones level, he’ll run out sooner rather than later. Lisa did her magic on the Internet. Insulin has a relatively short shelf-life. After a month or so it begins to break down. It becomes less potent and therefore less effective.’
‘Then he’ll be forced to consult—’
‘A doctor. Precisely!’ Kate beamed at him. ‘I’m glad you won’t. How’s the fish?’
‘Delicious.’ Lifting a forkful, he paused before putting it into his mouth. ‘GPs have a Hippocratic oath here too, Kate. They’ll quote doctor/patient confidentiality. I’m not sure they’ll tell you anything. Sharing information on a patient could get them into a lot of trouble.’
‘We’ll see.’ Kate raised a cheeky eyebrow. ‘You know me, I’m a DCI, an SIO and one hell of an SOB, if pushed. I can lie for England if the job demands it. I’ll make something up, say he’s my big brother who’s gone missing.’ She feigned distress, putting on a feeble voice to make her point. ‘I’m worried about him losing consciousness and going into a coma, Doctor. It’s happened before. He nearly died.’ She placed a hand on her chest. ‘I can’t, I just can’t bear to lose him.’ She winked at Hank, reverting to her normal voice. ‘I might even cry – if I can remember how.’
‘You’re devious, you know that?’
‘I’ll do whatever it takes to find him. Brian Allen is the devious one. He’s survived out here for years without detection. Chances are he has a whole new identity and a GP in his pocket who a) helped fake his death and b) could supply medication at the drop of a hat. He’s a fugitive on the run now though. I’m thinking that it might not be so easy for him, especially if he’s been forced out of his home. He needs that medication to survive.’
Pushing his plate away, Hank reminded her of Brian’s assumed name: Ray Charlton.
‘I doubt he’s using it now,’ she said. ‘That would be plain stupid, the one thing he’s not. Anyway, I have his picture. I’ll think of something. We have to learn to out-think him, Hank – him and O’Kane – it’s the only chance we have of locking them up. Then it’ll be down to the extradition process to work its magic so we can get them home and into a court of law.’
Kate stared at a fixed point in the distance as two pieces of a giant conundrum moved into place, something she hoped might take her enquiries in the right direction. Noting her concern, Hank gave her a moment of quiet before asking her what was happening on Planet Daniels.
‘I was thinking about the doctor who certified Brian’s death.’
‘What about him?’
‘Her. Her name is Maria Benitez.’
‘Didn’t you put an action out—’
‘I did.’ Kate sighed. ‘I hate relying on anyone else to make my enquiries for me, particularly when I can’t speak to them face to face. The officer I talked to over here said he’d investigated the matter thoroughly. Benitez has been practising for around ten years. She’s well respected, by all accounts, a pillar of the community. As far as he was concerned, she was in the clear and wouldn’t face charges. He took the view that she was a victim of theft, not someone under suspicion.’
‘Theft?’
‘Yeah, that’s what I thought. Some months after Brian was supposed to have died, she reported a numbered death certificate stolen, claiming that she’d only noticed it missing after the event. I’m wondering now if she was telling the truth. She could’ve been covering herself. Quite clever too, if you think about it . . . or maybe not.’ Kate held his gaze. ‘You know the score as well as I do. When people are trying to conceal their guilt, they sometimes go that little bit too far to prove their innocence.’
A waitress arrived to take away their empty plates.
Hank waited until she was gone. ‘Sounds like Benitez is unreliable.’
‘I thought so too. It was a matter for the Spaniards to sort. No offence committed in the UK, so not my problem.’ Kate lifted her glass. ‘If a certificate was stolen and reported missing, you’ve got to ask yourself why no one picked up on it at the time. It looks like the Spanish registrar couldn’t be arsed to check his records or raise so much as a concerned eyebrow.’
‘Not worth the hassle?’
Kate sipped her wine. ‘Yeah, especially as it involved a Brit.’
‘So what do you intend to do about it? She’s not going to talk to us, is she?’
‘Not the official us, no. Finish your pint, I need to call Lisa and find out more about Benitez and where I might find her. Don’t stay up too late, I want you to resume your search first thing.’
‘My search? What you going to do?’
Kate locked eyes with him, a plan forming in her head. If her hunch was right, there was one way to find out what Maria Benitez was up to. It might involve a little undercover work.
63
Kate slept like a dream and woke fully refreshed. Before getting up she tried calling Jo. The number rang out unanswered. Frustrated, she lay there dreaming of what she might be doing right now, seeing her face, her sparkly eyes, a cheeky smile on her lips. Raising her knees, Kate slid her right hand down between her legs, shutting her eyes, imagining Jo’s hands, soft and warm, tracing the contours of her body, kissing her gently, as only she could. A single tear rolled down Kate’s cheek as she brought herself to orgasm, an ache in her heart as her emotions flooded out.
In semi-darkness, she rolled over and tried Jo’s number again with the same result, then got up and took a quick shower. Wrapping herself in a bathrobe, she opened her curtains to a lovely surprise that hadn’t been available the night before. Beyond her patio doors was a stunning view across the golf course, the eighteenth hole, an ornamental lake and the Mar Menor. Stepping on to the balcony, she leaned on the railing, drinking in the view, the smell of freshly mown lawns carried on the breeze. The sight served only to increase her loneliness. She missed Jo so much.
Totally pathetic.
Raising her face to the sun, Kate would have liked nothing more than to sit on the balcony and relax with a good book. Instead, she dragged herself inside to dry her hair. Tying it up, she put on a bit more slap than she was used to, dressing in cool linen, a pair of navy trousers, a long-s
leeved white shirt and a pair of strappy flat sandals she could walk in all day long. Satisfied that the detective in her was well hidden, she went down to eat, giving Hank a knock as she passed his room.
He’d beaten her down, was sitting in the breakfast room when she arrived. The food was like artwork, laid out beautifully: cereals and fresh fruit, several different breads, croissants and pots of local jam. To her right, a chef stood waiting to prepare cooked breakfast for those who wanted it.
Through the panoramic window, Kate could see that many had already eaten and were out on the golf course. At a table near the window, directly ahead of her and down a few steps, Hank gave her a wave. As she arrived at his side, he flicked his eyes left. Following his gaze, she found not Allen or O’Kane but Judi Murray, mother of Andy, the tennis ace. She was sitting alone, reading a newspaper, dressed to give a coaching session in the club’s tennis centre. Feeling Kate’s eyes on her, she looked up and smiled.
Returning the greeting, Kate pulled out a chair and sat down with Hank. He’d ordered coffee, lots of it, strong and black. She’d trained him well.
‘Going somewhere nice?’ he asked.
Kate shook out her napkin. ‘Might be.’
‘You look different.’
She blushed, shoving away the ridiculous notion that he could tell she’d been masturbating before joining him at the breakfast table.
‘Sophisticated, I mean.’
‘That suggests I normally look like a tart.’
‘That’s not what I—’
‘Joking! Got my fishing gear on, haven’t I?’
He was intrigued. ‘Need me along?’
‘No, Hank, I want you here tracking down murder suspects. I’ve got to go out for a few hours, check out the local medical centre and shops. I need to track Benitez down. If I can, I’ll rendezvous back here at two. I’ll give you a bell if not. Remember that little tapas bar not far from the hotel?’ She took in his nod. ‘Meet me there.’