Room with a View

Chapter 22 - Desperate States

Glenda stood in the alcove of one of the boutique shops, her back against the wall and her ankles crossed. Hector nervously faced her, listening to every word with acute attention. The tone of their respective body language indicated to any watching that Hector Prince had placed himself squarely in an inescapable box. He shifted from foot to foot, hands flapping, head bobbing as he tried to counter Glenda's calm assault.

"I said all I could! I told them I was up to your villa to fix the lock and later to check on you-both nights!"

"You told Warez that I asked to have you check on me. He is suspicious that it was to provide me with an alibi." She poked him in the chest with a sharp fingernail. "I assured him that it was you who offered to check back after you repaired the lock and that regardless of the reason, we independently supported one another's story. The problem you now have is to make sure you do NOT say or do anything else that could upset that story. Unless Warez gets a confession from Charles, things are still up in the air."

"I don't see any way out for him. His tale about making an arrest falls apart when he shot at Astrid, unless he intends to lump her in with them as a gang of thieves." Hector fumbled in his shirt for a cigarillo.

Glenda pushed off the wall and stared at him. Charles could actually use that excuse if he thought about it but she didn't think Warez would bite. She bit her lip hard and pulled a face as Hector lit up and blew a cloud of smelly smoke about their heads.

"Just remember what I said, Hector, I have alternatives . . . you don't."

******

Gary faced Warez with genuine fear. He knew Glenda had done nothing to help him and now that Astrid had been arrested as part of the murder plot-God, how could he have been so stupid? His alibi with her wouldn't be worth squat. Warez cleared his throat and leaned forward, gloating.

"It would seem that your alibi for the night of Senorita Burrow's death has," he shrugged elaborately, "how you say . . . gone down the sewer."

"She's lying."

"Really? And is she also lying when she says you were having an affair with Senorita Burrows?"

"It wasn't an aff- it was just- it was . . ." Gary stared bleakly at the grim, satisfied smile facing him. "So what." He finally stated, without much conviction.

"The what, Senor Ordman, is that the maid not only denied being with you that night but she says she saw Senorita Burrows enter your room just before morning."

"She's lying." Gary closed his eyes. He should never have trusted the bitch. He felt his words backing up like a blocked drain in his throat.

"And what was Senor Graves' behaviour?"

"I don't know I wasn't there." She uh- she met him on the beach about something and when she got back . . ." Gary felt his tongue flutter and he saw the eyebrows of the police captain elevate with interest.

"Got back, senor?" The captain leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk. "Please go on, Senor Ordman, I would like to hear the whole story."

******

Warez tapped his notepad with his pen and made a contemplative face. One of his men had uncovered the oar that was used in the killings, in the foliage not far from where Shelia Burrows was murdered. Fingerprints were faint and smeared but he could still use them as a threat.

He had confirmation that Ordman was with Burrows for almost the entire night and not the maid. He had Ordman's story that Burrows had received a call from Graves and left to meet him on the beach . . . where he was killed. She then returned to Ordman's room and left shortly after; the maid confirmed this last part. He drummed another tattoo on the pad and frowned. Why did Ordman feel the need for the maid's help?