The Spanish Hotel Read online

  “Copious amounts of lipstick, red silk robe. My guess is she was not alone up there.” Collins once again lifted his gaze up to the fifth-floor balcony. “So maybe the conflict that led to the push came after the cigarettes. What else do we know about her?”

  “Alice Evans, twenty-eight, single and works at the Saudi embassy. Judging by the apartment, I doubt if she was a high flyer, but that’s something we need to check on. That’s about as much as I’ve got at the moment. Oh, except that a young bloke lives on the first floor up there. He thinks he heard a thump about ten-fifteen plus-or-minus ten minutes. He had the idea that it came from the apartment above him.”

  “It seems to me, the quicker we get the pathologist involved the better.” Collins moved to the other side of the body and crouched down. “I can see she wasn’t wearing socks underneath these trainers, but how about underwear? I assume you can answer that one for me?”

  “No underwear sir.”

  “And judging by the state of her left shoulder and arm, are we assuming her shoulder was the first point of contact with the ground?”

  “That’s my thinking. As I say, she rolled a bit. Maybe deliberately, or maybe as a consequence of doing her best to avoid landing head first.”

  Collins stood up straight and looked DS Harrington in the eye. “Suicides jump, Chas. They don’t dive and change their mind halfway down. We have ourselves a murder investigation for sure.” He looked down at the body and carried on talking. “You supervise getting the pathologist here, and then join me in the apartment. The apartment, that’s where the evidence will be.”

  “Sumitra is on her way sir, but she needed fifteen minutes to finish her work on a body fished out of the Thames this morning.”

  “Don’t get defensive Chas, you’re a good detective, that’s why I want you in that apartment as soon as you can make it. But if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and see what Malcolm has managed to put together so far.” Collins shook his head. “Does she remind you of anyone?”

  “I didn’t want to say anything. Though if you mean Holly, then yes.”

  “Let’s just hope the bastard who did this doesn’t get off lightly with a bloody manslaughter charge like that dope Lionel Allison did. Oh Chas, I assume you’ve been in the apartment.”

  “I gave it a scan. I wore my overshoes and gloves though.” Harrington once again looked apprehensive. “The only thing I touched was the handle on the patio door.

  “Don’t be daft, I know you wouldn’t mess up a crime scene. Let’s start with that. Was the patio door locked?”

  “They have different systems, don’t they? All I can say is that it opened with a simple turn of the handle. I didn’t check if you could open it from the outside.”

  “How about the front door?”

  “Ah… I used an old credit card I carry in my wallet.”

  “Not deadlocked then?”

  “I see what you are getting at. No, it wasn’t deadlocked. Which means the killer could have just shut the door behind him.”

  “It could be a her. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

  “Just a figure of speech sir. Ah, I think that’s Sumitra’s car.” He looked towards a green Astra pulling up beyond two police cars blocking the eastern end of the road.

  “Okay, hang around for her first impressions and then join me up in the apartment.”

  Chapter 3

  “Sorry to disturb you so late in the evening.” Collins held up his warrant card. “But could I come in?”

  “Of course, Detective Collins,” Sheila Evans opened her front door a little wider and stood against the wall.

  “Chief Inspector Collins and WPC Armstrong,” Collins introduced Constable Armstrong and himself a little belatedly.

  “The sitting room’s on the left, sorry about the mess, but I haven’t much felt like tidying.”

  “No, quite, it must have come as a bit of a shock.”

  “Yes,” Sheila closed the front door. “Please go through, can I get you a tea or coffee?”

  “No thank you, I don’t want to take up any more of your time than necessary.” Collins went through to the sitting room and sat in one of two modern beige armchairs. Only after he had sat down did he notice the trail of dusty footprints he had left behind on the cream carpet. The mess Sheila Evans had referred to was no more than the late edition of the evening paper left spread out over the sofa.

  WPC Armstrong sat in the second armchair, leaving Alice’s older sister to push the paper to one side, and drop down onto the sofa.

  “Don’t feel rushed, I doubt that I’ll sleep tonight anyway.”

  “Have they managed to contact your mother yet?” asked Armstrong.

  “No, Malaysia is a big place. Anyway, I assume you have some questions you want answers to, so fire away, not that I expect to be able to help you much like.”

  “You’ll be surprised,” said Collins. “You know your sister better than we do, so there might just be something that helps us.”

  “That’s the point, it’s not that we socialised together. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still devastated, but the truth is, we only ever met at weddings and funerals.”

  “So when was the last such meeting?” asked Collins.

  “In the summer, back in June. Uncle Joe got married for the fourth time, and threw a big party like he always does. It’s ironic really, it should be the other way round.” Sheila stopped talking and looked at the marks on her carpet.

  “What’s ironic?” Collins pulled her thoughts back.

  “Oh, just that you would have expected Alice to be going to Uncle Joe’s funeral, or him to go to her wedding, not the other way round. Life can be such a bitch.”

  “Can I start by asking about what you know about Alice’s work?”

  “Not much really. I assume you know she worked at the KSA embassy.”

  “Yes I do, perhaps you can tell me how Alice got a job there.”

  “She was a temp with an agency and she got called in to work in the visa office. As it happens, the woman she was covering for turned out to be more ill than they first thought. In the end Alice worked there for three or four weeks. I guess they were impressed with her because she was invited to apply for a permanent job. It took the best part of six months mind.”

  “So, did she stay in the visa department?” Collins prodded the conversation along.

  “No, I don’t know exactly what she did, but it was something to do with travel and accommodation. You know, booking flights and hotels for people travelling between the two countries, and for conference delegates, that sort of thing.” Sheila paused to pinch her nose for a few seconds.

  “In your own time,” said Collins, hoping she was not going to burst into tears.

  “You’ve definitely ruled out this being an accident, haven’t you?” Sheila moved her hand over to clutch her left shoulder.

  “We have to keep an open mind.”

  “Unless Alice kept things from the family, I don’t think she worked at a level to warrant being assassinated or anything like that. No, definitely not.”

  “Miss Evans, I am not suggesting she was assassinated, or even that her work had anything to do with Alice’s death. I am just investigating all avenues, so we can find out why she died.”

  “But it is suspicious circumstances, right? I’m so bloody stupid; a chief inspector would not be here at this time of night to investigate an accident.” Sheila looked like she was about to get up, but then merely twisted her position on the sofa. “God, poor Alice, I should have known it wasn’t an accident.”

  Collins made a mental note to come back to Alice’s work at the Saudi embassy, but decided to pursue Sheila’s last statement. “Why should you have known it wasn’t an accident?”

  “Alice might have wasted her time at university doing a degree in social studies, but the one thing she did do for three solid years was rock climbing. Nothing dramatic like, but I got the impression she spent more time in the Peak District than she did in lecture
theatres. Alice used to joke that if she wasn’t climbing into bed with someone, she was climbing a rock with someone. That used to amuse me, but it doesn’t this evening.” Sheila put both palms on her ears. “She wouldn’t fall off a balcony, unless she was doing drugs that is.”

  “Did she do drugs?” asked Collins bluntly.

  “Not to my knowledge. Not unless you include a bit of cannabis now and then. Still, I never quite understand the police’s position on that, though I best not go there. No, I doubt if she was into heavy-duty drugs.”

  “Did she go clubbing?”

  “If you are about to suggest E tablets, don’t.” Sheila lifted her head sharply and breathed out through her nose. “It was late morning wasn’t it, people who do E are sleeping it off by then.”

  “Okay miss, let me be straight with you, so that we don’t get confrontational. I noticed that unlike most people you read my warrant card before I shut it, and generally you are coming across as an intelligent woman. So, like you I don’t think Alice’s death was an accident, though I do have to keep an open mind on that if new evidence suggests it was. Now, part of my job is to look for that evidence.”

  “If it wasn’t an accident, that leaves murder or suicide,” interrupted Sheila.

  “Or manslaughter,” added Collins. “So let’s consider suicide. Was Alice depressed about anything? Work, men, family life, health, is there anything you can think of?”

  “No, she wouldn’t top herself. She took after our mum, very volatile, up and down like a yo-yo. But that was her release, her coping strategy if you like. Mum was always pissing her off, as she did me, but we always forgive and forget. God knows how mum coped with the two of us after dad left. I often think it might have been us that made mum the way she is.”

  “And what way would that be?”

  “Always looking for a bloke to give her a good time, even though she knows any good time with a bloke is short-lived. They always revert to type after a while.”

  “What about Alice and men?”

  “One day she would have cottoned on to the fact that the only thing men have going for them is between their legs. Other than that they’re a waste of space. A few years back I tried to encourage her to sample the alternatives, but she was having none of it.” Sheila lifted her head and engaged Collins eye to eye. “If you are thinking Alice would have committed suicide over a man, she was too battle-hardened for that.”

  Collins did not speak, but a large question mark hovered over his head.

  Sheila took a few deep breaths and continued: “I don’t wish to speak ill of Alice, but she always went for the worst type of man; the bullies, the fit sporting types, that sort of bloke. Even at school she went out with the ones that everyone knew expected sex on the second date, and if it wasn’t forthcoming they moved on. If she gave them what they wanted, they hung around a little longer, but they still dumped her within a matter of weeks. So Detective Collins, my sister had many hard knocks along the way as far as men were concerned, one more would not have driven her to suicide.”

  “Might the hard knocks have taken their toll?”

  “No, definitely not. As I said, I last spoke to Alice in June and she seemed her normal self to me. No signs of an accumulative effect like you are suggesting.”

  “Would you happen to heard about the most recent men in her life?”

  “Not a dickybird, as I said, we last spoke back in June.” Sheila shrugged, “What’s that, four months, pushing on five?”

  “So your mum hasn’t said anything, and you don’t have any mutual friends?”

  “No, Alice and I went our separate ways quite a few years ago now. Mum is enjoying her freedom now we’ve left home, at least that is what she says she’s doing.”

  “Let’s go back to Alice’s work at the Saudi embassy. Did she have any close acquaintances there?”

  “No. Well, not that I know of.”

  “So she never took anyone from work along to any of your family gatherings?”

  “No. At Uncle Joe’s wedding she brought Taps with her.”

  Collins sat up straighter. “Taps? Who is Taps?”

  “Jeff Tapper, he was in my year at school, so two years older than Alice.”

  “Were they an item at the time?”

  “If you mean did they shag that night, of course they did, but you couldn’t call them an item.”

  “What would you call them then?” asked Collins dropping back in his chair.

  “Well I know what I would call them, but how you would phrase it I’m not sure.”

  “Use your own words Miss Evans, though I think I know what you are going to say.”

  “They were fuck buddies. They had been since school. You know, if they were at a party, and both playing wallflowers, then they would go upstairs or into the garden, that sort of thing.”

  “And go to your uncle’s wedding together?”

  “Yes, they did that too. If Alice had no one to go to a do with, she would phone Taps. I don’t think he ever turned her down. Well he’s a man, so he wouldn’t turn a shag down would he?”

  “And do you know how I can contact this Taps?”

  “He runs a greasy spoon on the corner of Marlborough Close and the road that runs up to the bus station. I think it’s called Denholme Street.”

  “Sorry, I’m more a West London boy myself. Are we talking about a Denholme Road around here?”

  “Yes, but its Denholme Street, not Denholme Road.”

  “Thank you, I would appreciate you not saying anything to him until after I see him tomorrow.”

  “Detective Collins, my sister has been murdered. I’m hardly likely to throw a spanner in the works of your investigation am I?”

  “No, quite right.” Collins thought about challenging her assumption about it being murder, but knew she was smart enough to see through any smoke screen he put up.

  Collins stayed quiet for a while as he watched some cogs turning behind Sheila’s blue eyes. There were some thought processes going on inside her head that she was choosing not to disclose.

  Eventually he took an educated stab at what her thoughts were about. “Is there anyone else it might be worth me talking to tomorrow?”

  “No, but I guess I need to talk to a funeral director.” Her eyes started to redden.

  “Plenty of time for that, your mum will probably be back before we release the body.”

  Constable Armstrong stared at Collins, and then rose to her feet. By the time she put her hand on Sheila’s shoulder, the younger woman was sobbing into her own hands.

  “Come on Sheila, why don’t we go and make that tea you offered us when we arrived?”

  Slowly the two women made their way out into the hallway, leaving Collins an opportunity to have a good look around the room.

  By the time they returned with three mugs of tea, Collins was none the wiser. There were no photos on display, no music CDs, no DVDs, not even a magazine to offer any insight into this woman’s life. Only the evening paper pushed to one end of the sofa, but all that told him was that Sheila had bought the late edition to see if there was anything in it about her sister’s death.

  The good news was that although her mascara was smudged big time, at least Sheila had stopped crying. Modern, cold, but not quite as hard as she thinks she is, concluded Collins.

  “Sorry about that, Detective,” Sheila picked up one of the mugs from the tray and passed it to him handle first. “I think the reality of Alice’s death just kicked in.”

  “I don’t pretend to be good at handing out advice, but I can say you’ve done extremely well up to now.”

  “Right then, let me have a few mouthfuls of tea, and then I’ll see if I can save the tears for later.”

  “Did Alice have any hobbies, or play any sports?”

  Sheila took a moment to take another sip of her tea and then put her mug down on a square silver coaster.

  Ikea, she shops at Ikea, thought Collins.

  “As I said, she rock-cli
mbed at university, and also did a few parachute jumps. But that all stopped once she got back to London. She played a bit of golf, but not very often. And like lots of us, she subsidises the few people who actually go to the gym on a regular basis. Other than that, her hobbies were socialising.”

  “Would you say she was a heavy drinker?”

  “She smoked and she drank in moderation. Every now and then she would get legless, but not every week, or anything like it.”

  “So would you say eleven cigarettes before ten-thirty in the morning to be heavy or moderate smoking?”

  “That would be heavy for Alice. Is that what she did this morning then?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “Well, something was bugging her then. Last I knew she had got herself down to tea break and social smoking. Alice was not the sort to slip out of the office for a fag. Eleven you say? That is a lot.”

  “I have a few more questions to ask you, but first can I say; over the next few days have a think about what might have been bugging her.” Collins placed his card down on the coffee table. “If you come up with something, no matter how insignificant it might seem, call me.”

  Sheila picked up her tea rather than the card. “Will do.”

  “Spain.” Collins watched for any signs of distress.

  Raised eyebrows were the only response he got.

  “Alice went to Spain for a week. She got back the Sunday before last. Did you know about that?”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “So, there is no point asking if you know who she travelled with?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.” Sheila took another mouthful of tea.

  Collins took the first and last mouthful of his.

  “Surely the airline would know who she travelled with?” suggested Sheila.

  “It was one of those free-for-all budget flights that don’t allocate seats. There are a few names that appear on both outward and inward passenger lists, but I just thought you might be able to give us a shortcut.”