Murder in Marbella

PROLOGUE

Cassie’s mobile phone beeped and lit up, signifying a text message. She picked it up from the bar and read the message with irritation. ‘Running late, will be another couple of hours’. No apology. No explanation. Typical of Alexei, she thought. Why do I bother to get here on time when he is always late? But she knew the answer and she also knew why she would wait for him and not dump him for someone more considerate.

Alexei was rich, good looking and flashed his money around like there was no tomorrow. Despite doubts about how he and his family made their money, he was the best thing that had happened to her since she had arrived on the Costa del Sol a few months earlier looking for the glamorous lifestyle that she was hardly likely to get in her home town of Wigan. Then, she had been plain Sandra Wilson, check out girl by day and pole dancer by night. But on arrival in Marbella, she had re-invented herself as Cassandra Wilson or Cassie, as she now called herself.

Unfortunately, things had not progressed as well as she had hoped. Fame and fortune had eluded her. Good looking girls were two a penny. To survive, she had taken a job as a salesgirl in a Puerto Banus boutique but the money was crap, despite the fact that she loved the atmosphere of Spain’s flashiest port. She shared a rundown flat on the wrong side of Marbella with two other wannabe Brit chicks and the only men she had met had disappeared as soon as they had tired of screwing her. She had even contemplated advertising her services in the ‘Adult Relaxation’ section of the classifieds in the Sur, the local English language paper, but had been put off by girls she had met who had gone down that route. The economic climate had affected the sex industry and if she was going to be shagged by some smelly fat geezer, she would want more than sixty euros.

So Alexei was comfortably the best thing on offer and she could easily put up with his somewhat deviant behaviour in return for the goodies that came her way.

As she sat perched on the bar stool, she looked down admiringly at the three hundred euro shoes he had bought her with the ridiculously high spiked heels, wondering at the same time whether she should wait for Alexei or go back to her flat for an hour or so. The shoes made the decision for her. She could not walk far in them and a return taxi trip would cost her another thirty euros on top of the fifteen it had already cost to get to the bar back in Puerto Banus where they had arranged to meet. Perhaps one of the other girls would come down and keep her company...

As she pondered her options, she became conscious of someone standing quite close to her at the bar.

‘Can I top up that drink for you?’

She looked up, opening her mouth to tell whomever it was to get lost but when she saw the smiling, handsome face looking down at her, different words came out.

‘Why not?’ she said. ‘I’ll have a vodka and tonic. No lemon.’ She picked up her glass,  finished her drink and handed the empty the glass to him.

She guessed that he was about the same age as her, around twenty, but he appeared to have the confidence of someone a lot older.

He caught the barman’s attention and ordered a large vodka and tonic and a pint of lager. As the drinks were being poured, she noticed with amusement that he took a sidelong glance at her legs. Not surprising really given that her skirt barely covered her bottom and she had to keep her legs firmly crossed. She assumed that he had already noticed her cleavage and wondered whether she could persuade Alexei to stump up for a boob job to make them even more impressive.

He introduced himself as Tom and proved to be good company. He was there with two friends, whom he pointed out to her sitting at a table at the other end of the bar. They waved at him but she was glad that they did not come over and before long she noticed that they were chatting to two girls. She wondered what Alexei would have said if he had known she was being chatted up by a good looking English boy. But as the drinks flowed, Alexei faded from her mind. After about an hour, she excused herself and tottered on her high heels and under the influence of three or four double vodkas to the Ladies. She had two reasons for going there. First, she was absolutely bursting to pee, but also, she had decided to enjoy another of Alexei’s goodies. She poured out a line of coke on the vanity unit and sniffed it up through a rolled up twenty euro note.