Hidden Read online

  ‘Why did you not want to speak to the police?’

  ‘You ask too many questions, leave me alone,’ the man said as he stood up and knocked over the small, round, brass-topped table in front of him. The man by the door was straight in and asked if everything was OK.

  ‘Too many bitches round here,’ the man said, and then he pushed his way past the barrel man and quickly left. Christine stepped forward, but the barrel man put his hand up to stop her. He was smiling.

  ‘I would leave it, if I was you.’

  ‘Why? I just wanted to ask how he was.’ The barrel man looked confused, so Christine quickly explained, and then asked, ‘Who is he?’

  ‘I not know. We are Roma people, so we attract a lot of passing Roma. I not seen him before, but he looked like trouble. Is why I stay here. Make sure boy OK,’ barrel man said as he nodded towards the barman. His son, she now assumed.

  Christine thanked him and added, ‘Interesting person though.’ She finished her drink quickly.

  She meandered back down the promenade; it was darker now and felt later than ten o’clock. The street was empty, though it looked busier up ahead in the distance where the main bars were. She thought she may as well go and spoil the boys’ night for a while, but she wouldn’t intrude for too long, she fancied an early one.

  As she thought the last thought, a huge rough hand covered her mouth and half of her face, from behind. It stifled any noise she tried to make. She was yanked backwards with incredible ease, and knew she was being pulled into a dimly-lit passage which served as a narrow alleyway. The stench of stale cigarettes made her gag. Two or three metres further and the hand yanked her again. Sideways this time, into a small yard. Light was even less in here, it was near darkness. She tried to scream, but couldn’t. She was struggling to breathe. Fear was starting to take hold.

  Chapter Three

  ‘Your round, Jimmy, stop being a lightweight,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘You’re not too old to go over my knee,’ Jimmy replied.

  ‘Perv.’

  ‘You know that’s not true. It’s just one of those daft phrases my parents used to come out with when I was growing up.’

  ‘Oh, you mean the days when it was OK to beat your kids?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘No wonder your generation have so many issues.’

  ‘Another one was, “it hurts me more than it hurts you” and, “you’ll thank me one day”. Still don’t understand those two.’

  ‘Beer, Jimmy. I’m dying of thirst while you meander down memory lane.’

  ‘I’m on it,’ Jimmy answered, as he rose from the table to wave in the direction of the waiter, who was sitting on a stool behind the bar.

  Vinnie watched Jimmy and saw his demeanour change as he suddenly focused on something along the promenade. ‘Vinnie,’ Jimmy said, as he continued to look in the same direction. Christine was fast approaching, and she had been crying. Vinnie rushed around his table and met her on the promenade.

  ‘Am I glad to see you,’ she said, as Vinnie threw his arms around her. He could feel her start to relax in his embrace, and once she had, he loosened his grip and led her to the table.

  ‘What the hell has happened?’ Jimmy asked.

  Christine took a deep breath and then told them about her visit to the Roma Bar. She stopped as the barman arrived with the drinks, and Vinnie watched as she nearly emptied a vodka and Coke Zero in one go. She ordered another and then emptied her glass, which the waiter took away. Once he was out of earshot she continued, describing how she had been dragged backwards down a narrow alleyway and threatened.

  ‘What threats could this lame excuse of a man possibly have to make against you?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Said I shouldn’t have “nosed around in the bar”, said I “asked too many questions”.’

  ‘Was it that bastard from the beach?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘I knew straight away that it wasn’t.’

  ‘How come?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘He used two good hands to drag me backwards and to hold me facing away from him, but he had foul, nicotine-stained fingers. I can still smell them.’

  ‘The bloke smoking on the barrel?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘It must have been. And I thought he was a good guy.’

  ‘Did you get a look at him, at all?’

  ‘Only from behind as he legged it down the alleyway.’

  ‘What exactly was the threat?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘Just to stop asking about the man from the beach. He said I’d been told that before I left the bar, but added that he felt I hadn’t “fully understood”.’

  ‘Maybe he’s the one who needs a lesson in understanding,’ Vinnie said, as he pushed his chair back.

  ‘Where do you think you are going?’ Christine asked.

  ‘To have a word.’

  ‘I doubt he’ll be there, and shouldn’t we report it to the police?’

  ‘I doubt they’ll be interested.’

  ‘But you heard those cops call the Roma scum; perversely, maybe they will.’

  Vinnie thought about Christine’s last comment for a moment. Maybe she had a point, albeit perverse, as she had said. And he knew the cops would be calling at their apartment in the morning to collect their written statements, they could report it then. He voiced his thoughts and Christine said they should report it now, while there was still a chance the man was in the area. Made sense.

  Vinnie watched as Christine keyed 1-1-2 into her phone and then listened to her side of the conversation in what, to Vinnie, was fluent Spanish. She ended the call and sighed.

  ‘What?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘They say as I am no longer under threat it is no longer an emergency and I should report it to the local police tomorrow.’

  ‘What about your assailant still being in the area?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘I mentioned that, and the operator said that is why she told me to report it in the morning; as the local police are all tied up with a major incident in the capital, Palma.’

  ‘The other side of the island completely,’ Jimmy said.

  ‘Must be someone’s retirement do,’ Vinnie said, before pushing his chair out once more, and then added, ‘Jimmy, will you stay here with Christine? I’ll only be gone for one beer.’

  ‘The way you drink, that’ll be two minutes.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Christine asked.

  ‘Nothing daft, don’t worry, just see if barrel man is back at the bar and ask him what he’s playing at. I’ll switch the recording feature of my phone on. He may just drop himself in it. He won’t know he’s talking to a cop.’

  ‘Not wanting to get all cop-like on you, but if you are acting as a cop, anything he says will be inadmissible in court unless you caution him. Or, if you are acting as an undercover cop, you will need a local official’s authority,’ Jimmy said.

  ‘I’m not a cop here in Spain, and I’m not you, acting as a local agent of a Spanish cop.’

  ‘Ah, you’re right; the student has really become the master,’ Jimmy said.

  Vinnie said he would only be a few minutes and set off down the tree-lined promenade towards its eastern end. He knew what Jimmy said would have been true, if he was back in the UK. Acting as a cop he would need transparency to prevent the little shite from incriminating himself, or acting undercover he would need authority he didn’t have. Then he stopped in his tracks.

  If Jimmy was authorised by the local authorities to act as their agent in his pursuit of wanted criminals, maybe he should come along. Then he realised that any authority Jimmy had, would be bespoke to his instructions. He started walking again.

  Five minutes later he approached the Roma Bar and was not surprised to find the barrel outside unoccupied. He walked into the bar; that too was empty, apart from the barman.

  Vinnie knew he had to play it cool, so he relaxed his demeanour and ordered a small beer. He took a stool by the bar and when half-way through his lager, asked the barman where his
father was. He hoped that by showing he knew they were related, he might encourage the barman to infer some kind of friendship or at the very least, that he and barrel man were acquaintances.

  ‘Why you ask about Matias?’

  Excellent, at least he knew his first name now. ‘Just a bit of business, and I was passing,’ Vinnie said, and noticed that the barman’s eyes had narrowed, ever so slightly. Totally involuntary he was sure, but a tell-sign, he was also sure.

  ‘He go out about half an hour ago, should be back soon.’

  ‘Go where?’

  ‘Just out. Maybe I can help, senor?’

  Vinnie emptied his glass and said that it would keep, said he’d call back. He doubted that Matias, if that was even his real name, would say too much in front of the barman. He’d be better off confronting him on the promenade, as he neared the bar. The trouble was, Vinnie would be surprised if Matias returned at all tonight, after what he had done. Just in case the real cops did come calling. He wandered off, retracing his steps, and then saw the alleyway described by Christine. He’d looked for it on the way down but hadn’t seen it, but she had described it from this side and he could see the overgrown bougainvillea she mentioned. It would do no harm to have a look. If he was lucky, it might lead to a dead end with Matias there, though he doubted it. He’d just check where it led, and then get back to Christine.

  Chapter Four

  Christine had calmed down from her ordeal, but still thought it was a total over-reaction by barrel man. His actions had had the opposite effect. She knew for sure that there was a subtext here, a story to be found. But she also knew she had very little chance of discovering what it was.

  She enjoyed chatting to Jimmy, he was certainly a charmer, but she wasn’t sure whether he was in character or not. ‘Now I can’t decide if it’s the real you being so nice, or someone else from inside your head,’ she said.

  Jimmy laughed before he answered. ‘I have to admit that in my old line of work, personas can become mixed if you are not careful.’

  ‘You say “old” but I thought you were still doing it?’

  ‘I suppose I am, but it’s far less complicated, I just play an ex-pat who’s on his toes; same play every time, just with a different name. But the Mr Nice you allude to is all me, I promise.’

  Christine laughed as she heard someone approach. She turned and saw Vinnie. ‘Any luck?’ she asked, as he joined them.

  ‘Nowhere to be seen,’ he said, before quickly telling them of his trip to the bar and then the alley.

  ‘What is at the end?’ Christine asked.

  ‘Nothing of note. It bends around to the left, and then opens out into one of the back streets that run parallel to the prom.’

  ‘What about down the alleyway itself?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘Just the lane he dragged Christine into, and then it’s a five-foot-high wall down both sides, with only ambient light from the prom for illumination. He chose well.’

  ‘In that case, let’s call it a night, I’m starting to feel whacked now,’ Christine said, and she was. The come-down from the adrenalin rush was leaving its mark on her. She just wanted her bed; they could try with the local police in the morning, when they called to collect their statements. She was glad that both statements had been completed before they came out for the evening; at least they wouldn’t have to face that. Though she might have to face another one, if they took her complaint seriously. If they did, they could write it.

  She said her goodbyes, as did everyone else. Jimmy insisted on paying the bill, it clearly was his own persona that he’d shown earlier. He said he’d have to head out early in the morning, so wouldn’t get chance to see them again. She exchanged telephone numbers with Jimmy so they could all keep in touch. She’d already had an idea about doing a documentary on Jimmy’s Costa clean-up operations, but knew it would have to wait until he’d finished his task. That would no doubt be sometime well into the future, but she’d park the idea and keep in touch with him along the way. It would make great TV.

  As they wandered back to their apart-hotel she noticed that Vinnie kept looking around. It unnerved her slightly, and she said so.

  ‘Sorry, I’m not trying to freak you out, just maintaining my spatial awareness.’

  ‘Oh, that’s OK then,’ she said, and smiled as they turned the corner to their hotel.

  *

  Christine slept better than she had imagined, the ordeal had obviously mentally drained her. No worries, she’d awoken fairly early, eight-ish, to another beautiful sunny day. She left Vinnie to lie in as she showered, dressed and walked onto their veranda with a bowl of muesli. She’d just finished it when a groggy-looking Vinnie, dressed only in boxer shorts, came into view.

  ‘Well this is a relationship tester, given that we have only been seeing each other properly for a short while,’ she said, trying to stifle a grin.

  ‘That’d be why you got up early, I guess,’ Vinnie answered.

  ‘Cheeky sod,’ Christine said, as Vinnie checked himself out in the lounge mirror.

  ‘OK, I see what you mean, but I did have a few more drinks than you.’

  ‘I’m only messing, you look quite handsome, in a sort of, heavily dishevelled, hungover sort of way.’

  ‘Got the hint, I’m off for a shower,’ Vinnie said, then turned and headed towards the bathroom.

  Christine smiled to herself, headed to the kitchenette and put the kettle on. She’d just finished making two coffees when she heard the bathroom door open as Vinnie headed back into the bedroom. She sipped her coffee and shouted to let him know that a brew was ready.

  As she waited, she picked up the written statement that Vinnie had filled in for her and headed back onto the veranda to read it. She was fairly used to writing tight copy, but had agreed to let Vinnie fill in the forms for her at her dictation. Having signed it, she thought she’d better check it before the cops arrived — and now was a good chance to do it without Vinnie present. She could tell how his professional pride had kicked in and she didn’t want him to think she was acting as editor.

  That said, she didn’t fully understand hearsay in the way Vinnie clearly did, though he had told her that her statement could only include that which she had experienced with her own senses, and that which was said in the presence and hearing of the accused. Or at least, that was the case in the UK. Vinnie reckoned it would be similar in Spain. “But who was the accused?” she’d asked him. They’d assumed the beach man was the victim, but were now not so sure, so Vinnie had included all that had been said at the beach. Christine thought it didn’t really matter what she put in, if something was inadmissible, then surely the Spanish police or magistrate would simply strike the offending sentences out? But she’d humoured Vinnie; he had clearly enjoyed doing it for her.

  Half a mug of coffee later, she put the statement down. It was an accurate transcription of her words. She then started to wonder what had really been going on between the woman and the beach man, and why he had been so coy in the Roma Bar. And why such a dramatic warning-off by barrel man? Then, a loud knock at the door jolted her out of her reflections.

  She glanced at her watch, it was gone nine now, she should have put the privacy label on the door, but no matter, she may as well let the maid do her job.

  On opening the door she saw that it was not the maid, but two policemen. Well, she assumed they were both policemen; only one was in uniform. The second was in casual plain clothes. He produced a badge and spoke to her in excellent English.

  ‘Miss Jones, I presume?’ His accent had a hint of Rigsby about it. She ignored the thought, and confirmed who she was. She then heard the man whisper in Spanish to the uniformed officer, telling him who she was. Rigsby then identified himself as Sebastian Fernandez, a detective from the national police. This surprised Christine, as she was sure the officers dealing with the beach incident had been local police, guardia urbana; perhaps they were now taking the incident more seriously, ‘gypsy scum’ or not.


  Christine invited them in and immediately went to the lounge table, picking up her statement form and Vinnie’s. She then turned to face the officers. ‘Here are our statements from yesterday, I’m glad you are here.’

  As she handed them over, Detective Fernandez looked slightly taken aback, but then read both before handing them to the uniformed officer. He then turned back to face Christine and asked, ‘Is Senor Palmer here?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she replied. ‘He’s just getting dressed,’ she added, before shouting for him. Vinnie shouted back that he would be out in a minute.

  ‘There has been a development…’ Christine started.

  ‘How so?’ Fernandez asked.

  Christine then gave the officer an abridged version of what had happened the previous evening.

  ‘And you are unhurt?’ Fernandez asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m OK, but I was pretty shook up last night.’

  ‘And why did you go to the Roma Bar?’

  ‘Just being nosy, if I’m honest; I’m a TV reporter back home.’

  ‘Ah, I see. And the man who attacked you; are you sure it was the man from outside the bar?’

  ‘As sure as I can be, but by way of what he said rather than by getting a clear look at him. He sort of referenced himself by linking his threat, warning or whatever it was, to what he had said to me in the bar. Not his smartest move.’

  ‘I see,’ said the detective, before adding, ‘and this man, the one you call barrel man, is the father of the man behind the bar, yes?’

  ‘That’s the impression I got, he is certainly a relative or very close family friend.’

  ‘This is much unexpected, senora, but very helpful,’ Fernandez said.

  Christine wasn’t quite sure what the detective meant by this, and was about to ask when Vinnie came into the lounge and finished pulling a T-shirt on.

  ‘Everything OK?’ he asked.

  Christine watched as Fernandez nodded at his uniformed colleague, before he turned to face Vinnie. ‘I am Sebastian Fernandez, a detective with the policia nacional from Palma,’ he began.