Bloody Mary (26 page)

One of the paramedics helped Sophie, still engrossed in her baby, to her feet and began guiding her to the door, whilst the other tagged me and Harry. “
El bebé es sano, pero necesitamos llevarla al hospital para comprobarlos ambos encima
.”

As Sophie passed through the door, Almunda grabbed her arm, gaining her attention. “
Eso era un nacimiento rápido, es él su segundo bebé
?” Facing another blank stare, she threw her hands in the air, muttering, and tugged Harry’s shirt, “
Usted va con ella, l’el ll asegure la casa. Va!
”, pulling him to follow Sophie’s path to the ambulance, I grabbed the hospital bag as I tagged on behind.

Nonplussed, we climbed into the back of the ambulance, the doors being closed by the paramedic before skidding away. Almunda shuddered and muttered, sorting out the keys before locking up. “
Inglés sancriento
!”

Answering his mobile, having already downed four pints, preparing to start on the vodka, Darren was surprised to hear Harold’s voice, curt and blunt. Making it absolutely clear, he explained briefly that the baby had been born, and where they’d been taken.

Darren ran down the steps, darted out of Blakes Bar, and sped along the path, round the corner to the front of the Montaña Vista Apartments, and jumped into his van, wheel spinning away in the direction of his parent’s house. On arrival, he raced to the gate, shaking it wildly as he repeatedly pressed the bell. His father, stern faced with the racket, opened the door, and, on seeing his son’s urgency, called Maureen, grabbing the keys to the lock. “What’s going on?” Bob was running towards the gate.

“She’s had the baby! I’ve just had a call from Harold. They’re at the Inca Hospital. Come on!”

Fumbling with the lock in his haste, Maureen locking the villa behind her, her feet still in slippers, they secured the property and clambered into the van, which Darren had left running. He sped away before Bob had even managed to close the van door. There was no room for conversation, each person in the cab digesting the news of the early birth, and, once they’d arrived and gushed rapid words to the calm receptionist, she wrote the ward number on a scrap of paper. They hurriedly found it, hastening towards the familiar face in the bed.

Darren leant over his newborn child, the tenderness in his yellow-brown eyes melting Sophie’s proud heart. “My son. Welcome to the world, little James.”

Again Sophie laughed, the wondrous event having dulled her suspicious mind. “She’s been checked over and she’s healthy, strong, and bouncing!”

Darren’s mood was thunderous, the least his ex-wife-to-be could have done would be to present him with a son, the devious bitch. He had no intention of staying any longer. A girl! His first child was meant to be a boy, that was his plan, his birthright, and he was disgusted at, and with, Sophie. “Where are you staying? I’ll want to come and see it when you get home.”

I had surveyed the exchange, appalled. “That’s none of your business, Darren Delaney!” I turned to his parents, directing my anger at them. “We want her passport back, and if you won’t give it to us we’ll contact the authorities.”

Maureen was uncommonly sheepish, staring at her slippers as she admitted the only truth she could conclude. “We don’t have it. We think it was stolen by a girl we know.”

She peeped at Darren, who continued with his further knowledge. “Her name’s Vicki Halliday, and I’m working on getting it back.”

Gradually recognising the name of the girl who had helped them to find Sophie’s apartment, now Harry knew where he could find her, thank her for her kind help. “Don’t bother, I know her. I’ll get it back myself.”

Darren was incredulous. “You know her! How?” We both glared at him, lips tight, and he realised it was imperative he get to her before they did. He turned on his heels. “Come on, Mam, Dad, we’re going.”

Jaimee, discomforted by the commotion around her, began to mew kittenishly in her cot, and I reached in, passing her to Sophie, who instantly soothed her. The act of tender motherhood replaced the awkwardness surrounding her. “Let’s leave mum and baby in peace, shall we. Sophie, we’ll come and see you tomorrow morning, first thing.” As we strolled away, waving, I pulled Harry close, whispering. “We’ve got to get to Vicki before Darren does. I’ll bet you he’s heading straight there. Let’s get a taxi to the café and hope to god she’s working tonight.”

We were relieved when we turned up at the café and found the place devoid of customers. And Darren. Vicki, her face still swollen and bruised, although heavily made up to try and disguise the injuries, saw the familiar customers and strolled out to greet them, order pad and pen at the ready. “My goodness! What happened to your face?”

She spat her reply, still disgusted. “Darren Delaney.”

Harry was instantly flustered on recognising Darren’s handiwork, putting two and two together and realising there was more to Vicki and Darren than she, or he, had let on. “Um, Vicki, we’re not stopping. Darren and his parents tell me you managed to get hold of Sophie’s passport. Is it possible we could have it?”

“I won’t be finished here until seven, and it’s hidden safely at home. And I’ll want something in return for my trouble, too.”

Harry glanced at his watch, it was six, just an hour to go, and he was getting used to these demands for money, everybody seemed to want a piece of his savings. Sighing. “Will a hundred Euros do?” We knew where the banks were, an hour would be enough time to walk to the ATM and withdraw some cash.

“Make it two hundred, and it’s a deal.” Harry nodded. “Give me half an hour or so to get home and settled. I’ll have it ready in exchange for the money. Meet me outside the main entrance to the apartments, we’ll say at half seven.”

Bob, fresh from the shower and wearing a dressing gown, was relieved to see Maureen as she came through the door, albeit confused by the unfamiliar summer jacket, zipped up over her clothing. “Have you been treating yourself?”

Maureen, pouring a large glass of red wine, nodded. “Do you like it? I got it from that English boutique, you know, the one next to Woody’s Bar. I was a bit cold.”

Bob glanced through the patio door, surprised, himself sweating from the heat of the evening sun. “I hope you’re not going down with some bug, or something, it’s baking in here.”

She shook her head. “I’ve got to go for a shower, but just to let you know,” she pulled Sophie’s passport from the deep pocket of the coat, and brandished it with glee, “I popped into the Café Paraíso to see Vicki, and she gave me the passport back.”

“What? Just like that? Did she say why she’d taken it? Why did she have it at work anyway? Doesn’t seem very responsible.”

Maureen chuckled. “That’s a lot of questions! No, I didn’t give her the chance to say anything, I told her it was criminal offence to steal a passport, and I’d contact the police if she didn’t give it back. It was easy, I don’t know what we were worried about! Now, I’m going to get cleaned up. We’ll pop round to Darren’s after and let him know it’s safe and sound, he’ll be so relieved.”

It had only taken me and Harry five minutes to get to the bank, he withdrew five hundred Euros, figuring plenty of cash was going to be necessary for all the taxis we’d be hiring in the next few days to and from the hospital, he not being confident enough to hire a car and try driving on the right-hand side of the road, and we decided to while away the next hour and a quarter over a light meal and some refreshments.

Satiated and relaxed, we walked to the apartment block, arriving just on time, and sat on the low wall that fronted it. Checking his watch, again and again, both of us becoming agitated with Vicki’s lateness, I finally suggested, as the hour reached eight, that we ask for her at the security cabin. Due to the language barrier, it took a mixture of writing Vicki’s name on some paper, and hand gestures, before the guard understood our request. We walked behind as he lazily ambled up the stairs, and knocked on the door, pushing it ajar on realising it wasn’t locked.

The scene and smell that hit them had all three of us reeling backwards, stomachs churning, bile in our throats. Vicki’s broken body, smothered with rich, glistening blood over her crisp pink uniform, her wide, black eyes sightless and strangely opaque, frightened mouth agape, lay beside a large carving knife, also dripping with the ruby fluid. It was all I could manage. “Darren got here first.”

Darren was relieved to hear his mother’s voice when he answered the buzz of the intercom, and he waited at the door as they made their way up in the lift. As soon as she saw him, Maureen could see he was upset, and she trotted up, grasping his hand as she led him to the sofas. They both sat. “Bob, fix us some drinks, will you? Now, baby, what’s wrong? Something’s up.”

Fear registered across his face. “It’s Vicki. She’s dead.”

“What!” Bob, bringing the drinks over, was astounded, but Maureen remained calm, listening intently. “What happened?”

“I went round after her shift, I was going to get the passport back, but when I went in, I’ve still got the key she gave me, she was there on the floor. There was blood all over the place.”

“Oh my God! What did you do?” Bob sat down, intrigued.

“I panicked, Dad, I was so scared. I could see she was dead, her eyes were wide open, and sort of different, sort of misty. I’ve never seen a dead body before, but I knew she was dead. Well, I didn’t know what to do, I know I should have phoned the police, but they would think it was me who did it. So I just ran. I don’t think I even shut the door, I don’t know, I just came back here and had a drink. Mam, it was awful.”

She patted his hand gently, reassuring, and Bob passed over the drink he’d prepared. “Drink this, son, you look like you need it!”

Darren took the glass, taking a large gulp, for once the alcohol was a requirement rather than a habit. “What if they think it was me who killed her? I mean, I’ve been seeing her for a couple of months, we’ve argued, everyone at Blakes Bar knows we fell out. And what about the passport? I can’t just go back to her flat and look for it now, can I?”

Maureen focused on him, catching his eyes and fixing them, a slight, victorious smile on her lips. “Darren, let’s get two things clear. First of all you have an alibi, you were here with us the whole time, and secondly, I have the passport.”

Choking a mouthful of brandy back into the glass, Darren stared at his mother. “What? How?”

Maureen took a glance at Bob, who was nodding gleefully, pleased with his wife’s ingenuity. “It was easy, baby, after you dropped us off, I went to the Café Paraíso and she gave it to me.”

Darren snorted, disbelieving. “Mam, I know Vicki, she’d never have given it back without a fight, she’s,” he faltered, “she was, a stubborn girl.”

“Well, she did, and that’s that. Nobody says no to me!”

Harry and I had been taken to the police station for questioning, a translator arranged for us, and we were both suffering from the effects of shock. Within minutes of meeting Detective Inspector Pedro Garcia, who would be heading the investigation, it was apparent to him that they’d had nothing to do with Vicki’s demise, but they had great difficulty understanding the complex situation to the man. Eventually, my patience was exhausted. “The bottom line is that we think Darren Delaney killed Vicki Halliday.”

The translator stepped in again. “
El fondo es nosotros piensa, um, Darren Delaney matado
Victoria Halliday.”

The detective paced back and forth, he was confused with the whole situation, and personally hated the British who couldn’t be bothered to learn his language. Waving his hand, wishing this case had been allocated to a colleague, his curt tone was issued with a sigh. “
Usted sabe su dirección
?”

“Do you have his directions, er, his, er, place of live?”

Relieved that they were finally getting somewhere, Harry eagerly gave the addresses of both Darren and his parents, retrieved from a scrap of paper in his wallet.

An urgent knocking on the door broke the conversation, and Darren glanced nervously at his mother, at his father, who hastened to the door. Darren’s heart sank when Bob led the team of uniformed policemen, followed by Detective Inspector Garcia, through the door. “I told you, Mam, they think it was me.”

Lips tensed, shoulders back, Maureen stood and grabbed her handbag from the table. “You have nothing to worry about, baby, we’re coming with you.”

“
Señor
Darren Delaney?” Darren nodded, his head drooping listlessly. “
Creemos usted puede tener cierta información sobre una mujer que se ha encontrado muerto en su apartamento, y quisiera que usted nos escoltara a la comisaría de policies para preguntar
.”

Not understanding a word, but confident of the gist, Darren stepped forward, allowing the policemen to lead him from the villa. Maureen, indignant and proud, pushed Bob forward to follow, locking the apartment behind them.

Maureen and Bob hadn’t been allowed to join their son in the interrogation room, which had angered her, an emotion she had wasted no time in telling anybody who would listen.

As instructed by Maureen, who had instructed the three on a watertight story to give them an alibi, he insisted that he’d brought his parents back to his flat after leaving the hospital, they’d stayed for dinner, and remained there afterwards for a few drinks, and a chat about the new baby. He explained that, although he and Vicki were no longer dating, he had no reason to harm her.