How to Kill Your Friends

by Phil Kurthausen

  Claudia looked down at the floor as though embarrassed. ‘We understand. I know Ferran isn’t joining us because of the same reasons. It’s so totally tragic what happened to your friend.’

  Meredith looked away for a moment as though she were dealing with some deep and upsetting thoughts. ‘It’s okay, Claudia, but thank you. She would have really loved this.’

  Claudia raised her beer bottle in the air. ‘To Amy!’

  Meredith and Edu raised their bottles. ‘To Amy!’

  Edu dropped her off near the Estació de França. She walked along the street towards Soho House, enjoying the last of the early evening sunshine. Tonight, she would speak to Olivia again and perhaps see if she wanted to go out dancing.

  Suddenly, a car screamed to a halt right next to her and sounded its horn. It was a battered old Peugeot and at the wheel was Inspector Fernández with a cigarette at her lips. She hit the horn again and waved at Meredith to get in the passenger seat.

  Fuck, thought Meredith, and with a sigh, she opened the passenger door and got in.

  Fernández smiled at her, exhibiting her yellow tombstone teeth. ‘Are you in?’

  Before Meredith could answer Fernández hit the gas and the car screeched off at a speed that made Meredith’s head whip back.

  They swept by a traffic cop standing by his car at the intersection that led to Barceloneta but he did nothing but wave.

  Fernández cackled. ‘It is… what’s the English word? Ah yes, it’s a perk, no! They recognise my plates. Everyone knows me here!’

  Meredith had no idea what to say so she just nodded.

  Fernández steered the car along the Passeig de Colom at high speed, swerving in and out of traffic. ‘You haven’t been returning my calls, Señorita Weaver. I totally understand of course, it’s like filling in a tax return, dealing with the police, no? So many boring details, back and forth. Tell me again, where’s this receipt? And on and on. I hate the tax people, hate them. I really don’t blame you but’ – she lifted both hands from the steering wheel and Meredith found herself gripping the edges of her seat – ‘we have to do these things. Life, jobs, pah, bureaucracy, I can’t stand it for the truth.’

  Meredith sucked in her breath as they approached the rear of a truck without braking and then at the last moment swerved to the left. For a second they were in the path of oncoming traffic before pulling back into their lane.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been really busy and it’s all so upsetting. I suppose I thought you didn’t really need me as there’s nothing much I can tell you that I already haven’t told you.’

  The car slowed a little as they got caught in traffic near the Colom and then they stopped to let the hordes of tourists cross the road towards the Maremagnum.

  Fernández turned and looked at Meredith. ‘Oh no, don’t think that at all. We only achieve our job with the help of people like you. Without you, we are nothing but notetakers after the event, mere observers of the passing of a person. With you, people like you, we can become part of the deceased person’s story, hopefully’ – she hit the accelerator pedal hard as the lights changed, sending a couple of Chinese tourists scrambling for the pavement – ‘bringing it to a resolution. So I need to ask you some more questions.’

  Meredith looked straight ahead as they approached the roundabout at a seemingly impossible speed. She wasn’t sure whether Fernández was driving this way to intimidate her or whether this was just part of the woman’s eccentric behaviour. She had been schooled in fear and intimidation by her father, with beatings, burns, verbal abuse and constant terror. She had learned to bury any feelings of fear, to mimic emotions that she did not feel, and she did so now. Meredith let her hands relax and stopped gripping the seat. ‘Sure, whatever I can do to help.’

  Fernández gunned the engine and then swung the car into a sharp right-hand turn into the Gates Diagonal Hotel.

  ‘Cell phones…’ Fernández took her right hand from the wheel and held up her phone. ‘They are amazing. DNA and phones. They have made my life so much easier. Hijo de puta!’

  A motor scooter had slowed to let another car into their lane.

  Fernández threw her phone back into the central storage well. ‘But we end up relying on them way too much and that’s where I am with the phones. Listen, I will speak frankly now, maybe too frankly.’ She snorted. ‘Your friend, Olivia Lowe, her phone backs up her story. The signal is on her room until 12pm and then we can trace it to Ferran’s apartment at 2pm and then it stays there for fifteen minutes and then it tracks back to your hotel.’

  ‘Yes, Olivia told you this.’

  ‘Exactly, it all fits. Unless she got someone to take her phone to the apartment after she went there at an earlier time, then she couldn’t possibly be at the apartment at 12pm to kill Amy.’

  Meredith looked out the passenger window at all the people going about their business, shopping, meeting friends for lunch, and she wondered if any of this would ever be possible for her. Not she wanted any of that: she needed much more. But maybe it would be nice to be satisfied with just that. ‘Which is what we’ve told you all along. As painful as it is, Amy probably killed herself and I’m not sure what this is achieving, dragging it all out, making people think she was murdered.’

  The car began to speed up again. ‘You’re so right, dragging this out makes it so much worse, but indulge me so I can cross my boxes and tick all my ticks, yes? Your phone also backs up your story. The signal stays in your room all day even when you said you went out to the stores in El Born and bought that… let me remember… that bracelet.’

  ‘I just forgot to take it out.’

  ‘Of course, of course, I would forget my ovaries if they weren’t with me.’ She crossed herself. ‘But you see the bureaucrat’s dilemma. You could have, let us say for devil’s advocate purposes, have left your phone in the hotel, gone to Ferran’s apartment, thrown Amy off the balcony and your phone would say you hadn’t moved from the hotel all day. But of course you did move – you said at 1pm – but the store assistant said an hour later, to buy the bracelet. So we know one thing from all of this: your phone, unlike Olivia’s, cannot identify your location at the relevant time.’

  She said this in the same manner as she might give a child a present, as though Meredith would greet the revelation with gratitude.

  ‘Olivia could have left her phone in her room, gone to the apartment, returned to the hotel, picked up the phone and then gone back to Amy’s apartment. I’m just saying as a devil’s advocate,’ replied Meredith.

  ‘No, we thought of that. The hotel system records when a hotel door is opened with the key card, not when someone leaves, and there was no record of hers being opened until her return at 3.15pm. So, unless she had an accomplice or left her phone somewhere outside her room, then this is’ – she waved her hand airily – ‘sin valor.’

  Meredith sat quietly for a second. ‘But all this is based on an assumption that Amy was murdered.’

  Fernández pressed hard on the accelerator again and received the finger from a moto driver who she cut up. ‘We have a witness who will testify she was pushed from the balcony.’

  ‘An old man.’

  ‘Who served in the army for twenty-five years and who has excellent vision. We tested it, of course, as we know how those lawyers like to play things. I don’t think he is mistaken. And nor do I think is the resident who saw a young woman, late twenties, take the lift at the relevant time. Tell me again, what was your connection with this “Squad”.’

  ‘I told you everything, I knew them briefly in Thailand many years ago and randomly connected with them again a few weeks ago.’

  ‘Because they are working in Barcelona and now they are very successful and wealthy and you, not so much. That’s right isn’t it?’

  Meredith shrugged. ‘They’ve done well. I’ve spent my time exploring and travelling the world. Life is about choices, I guess, and I don’t regret mine.’

  Fernández slapped the wheel in agre
ement. ‘That is so true unless you believe in a deterministic universe in which case we are just doomed by cause and effect to do what we do. But I don’t so I believe in choices, like you, otherwise what is the point of it all, eh! So, did you choose to sell poisoned wine to tourists?’

  Meredith didn’t answer straight away. She was thinking and praying that the American tourists were not dead and wondering how did the police officer know about this? ‘I have done many jobs whilst travelling and it usually involves sales of some sort. I work giving out flyers or getting tourists to try a restaurant or bar. And, yeah, I’ve worked for people selling wine. But I really wouldn’t know anything about the quality of the wine so if someone has got food poisoning then I suggest you take it up with the manufacturer.’

  Fernández smiled and then hit the horn at some minor traffic transgression by the car in front. ‘We have a man in custody already. I think you know him, Alfonso Rivera. But I know how tough it can be making a living in this city. Rents are high and good jobs difficult to come by so I don’t blame you for taking what you can get, even if some guiris ended up in hospital. They are fine now, by the way, if you care to know.’

  ‘I never knew anything about any bad wine.’

  ‘But you knew about being poor and that must have been difficult, no, when you saw your friends’ lifestyles, the hotels, the money, the ease in which they live their life compared to your struggles. It was some good fortune finding them again and becoming part of their group even for such a little time. It will be difficult to go back to your life. You are going back, no?’

  ‘The details haven’t been worked out yet.’

  Fernández slowed the car down. ‘Because if Amy had come back, I understand you definitely would not have been staying with them. Gracias and adios, no? So, even though it is terrible, you now may stay and have this life. As a box ticker, you know what box that ticks? Motive.’

  Meredith carried on looking straight ahead. ‘I didn’t kill Amy.’

  ‘No one is saying you did! Box ticking, that is all. Don’t worry, I’m not going to arrest you.’ She turned to look at Meredith. ‘I only do that when I have everything I need, all the boxes ticked and that is not so, yet.’

  ‘Look out!’ A young woman holding a selfie stick had stepped out into the road, seemingly oblivious to the oncoming traffic.

  Fernández slammed on the brakes and the car shuddered to a stop inches away from the nonplussed tourist, who seemed unconcerned about how close she had come to dying. She leaned in and took a picture with the car as the background.

  Meredith unclipped her seatbelt. ‘I’m getting out. This is dangerous and unless you are going to arrest me, I’m not spending another moment in this car.’

  Fernández grinned. ‘I don’t blame you. All my colleagues say I am the worst driver on the force. But I think I am pretty good. I always end up where I am going, no? I will be in touch and this time, please do answer my calls.’

  Meredith grunted a reply and stepped out of the car. It was a good twenty-minute walk from here and it was still unbearably hot. She began to walk.

  25

  Meredith sat in the shade of the Bahia café terrace and sipped at her cortado.

  She had been waiting here for just over fifteen minutes now. Next to her feet was a bag packed with all the essentials for a beach trip; swimming costume, book, small packed dinner and, of course, towels.

  It was another sun-saturated day, although there was the first sign of a cooling in the air as September dragged the heat away and Meredith stretched her legs under the table. She liked having the day ahead of her, especially a Monday, when she could sit here and watch other, more responsible citizens, returning from a day’s work whilst she enjoyed the sun and her coffee.

  She had been hot, sweaty, tired and anxious after her car trip with Fernández. Two things were clear to her: the first was that Fernández thought she had killed Amy but didn’t have enough evidence to arrest her yet and the second was that Fernández would not stop until she had Amy’s killer in custody.

  Meredith couldn’t let that happen and had spent a restless night worrying about what to do. In the early hours of the morning, a thought that had first occurred to her in Plaça de Sant Felip Neri became clearer and after that, she had slept peacefully and woken rested and refreshed. She had spent the day making preparations, and, once completed, relaxing by the pool

  You have to keep on moving forward, she told herself, you move forward or you die. She had decided to move forward once again. She had spent too long drifting, waiting for things to happen. That’s the difference, the only difference that mattered, between her and Amy and Olivia. They had managed to focus earlier. They had accepted an identity and then in the spirit of the times packaged that identity up and sold it online. Amy’s downfall was because she had become complacent and wanted to experiment with new identities. She should have accepted herself, thought Meredith. If she had, she would still be alive.

  Meredith checked her watch again. Then she saw her.

  Olivia waved and then took a seat next to her. ‘Sorry I’m late. I’m keen to hear what we’ve got planned.’

  ‘Like I told you, it’s a surprise, but like that plaça I showed you the other night, it’s worth it. Did you manage to get away without telling the others?’

  Meredith had spoken to Olivia earlier that day as they swam in the pool, Meredith carving easy laps whilst Olivia performed her awkward stroke that reminded Meredith of a puppy thrown in a canal. She had asked her whether she wanted to see another secret place like Plaça de Sant Felip Neri and Olivia had told her she would love to see such a place. They had arranged to meet in the café but Meredith had suggested that Olivia didn’t tell Adam or the others in case they wanted to tag along.

  Olivia waved over the waiter. ‘Oh yeah, I told them that I was on my period and wanted to spend the night in the room with a good book and a bottle of red. They didn’t ask anything after that. Talking of wine, I’m having a glass now: can I get you anything?’

  ‘No, I’m good,’ said Meredith, pointing to her coffee, ‘I had a little too much to drink last night.’

  Olivia laughed. ‘I go the other way, actually. Hair of the dog for me.’

  The wine came and Meredith astounded herself by making small talk for thirty or so minutes whilst Olivia finished it. If you had asked afterwards what they had talked about she wouldn’t have been able to tell you at all – but what was new was that she didn’t find it so painful. Perhaps it was because she was getting to know Olivia a little more, and even starting to like her, or maybe it was because it wasn’t small talk but rather small talk dedicated to a higher purpose.

  When it came time to leave, Meredith paid, putting some cash in the tin and uncharacteristically leaving a larger tip than was customary in Spain. As they stood up to leave, she announced that she needed something from the hotel and handed her beach bag to Olivia. ‘Will you take this while I run back. I’ll meet you at Estació de França.’

  ‘I can just come with you,’ Olivia said.

  ‘No, you can browse in the shops along the way.’

  Olivia hesitated for a second and then picked up the bag. ‘Oh well, I can do that but for God’s sake don’t be too long.’

  Meredith called over the waiter she had just tipped. In Spanish, she asked him if he could direct her friend to Estació de França as they were parting ways now and she didn’t want her to get lost in the streets.

  The waiter nodded in agreement and then in fluent English began to tell Olivia how to get to the station.

  She held up her hand. ‘I know the bloody way. I’ve been here three weeks already. But thanks for your help anyway.’

  The waiter shrugged and muttered something under his breath.

  Meredith reached in and hugged Olivia as though they were saying goodbye forever.

  Olivia hugged her back but looked slightly perplexed.

  They agreed to meet at the station in fifteen minutes. As they left th
e café Meredith made sure to shout ‘Adios’ to the waiter who looked up as she turned right and Olivia went left.

  Meredith walked around the block for ten or so minutes and then made her way to the station. When she arrived, Olivia was waiting at the entrance.

  ‘What did you need that was so urgent?’

  Meredith opened her bag and showed Olivia the two bottles of cava that she had packed much earlier.

  ‘Now you are talking! So where are we going?’

  ‘A beach. Playa del Muerto. It’s outside of Barcelona, I think we need a break from this city heat.’

  ‘Okay, but what’s so special about a beach?’

  ‘You’ll see. Come on, our train is leaving in two minutes!’

  Meredith opened the second bottle of cava and filled Olivia’s plastic flute to the top.

  ‘Jesus, I’m going to be wasted soon enough,’ said Olivia.

  Meredith handed her the flute.

  ‘Summer will be over soon and it will be time to step off the merry-go-round then. But for now’ – she filled her glass and drank deeply – ‘we drink!’

  ‘To summer!’ Olivia gave the toast and Meredith drank.

  The beach was now deserted. A week earlier and they could have decamped to the chiringuito and had a sundowner there but now it was boarded up, awaiting the arrival of next summer.

  ‘I almost forgot, hang on.’ Meredith busied herself in the bag and then pulled out Tupperware boxes containing jamon de bellota, Manchego cheese, chorizo, a chilled ration of pulpo, a large barra de pan and a bottle of Rioja.

  ‘Fantastic,’ said Olivia.

  They laid the picnic out in front of them and whether it was the sea air, the lateness of the hour or the drink, they devoured the meal quickly, accompanying it with glasses of the red wine.

  Afterwards, they lay down on their towels, satiated and more than a little drunk. Meredith skinned up a joint. She hated weed but tonight was a special occasion and she knew that Olivia liked to smoke.