Good Deed Bad Deed, Marcia Morgan [summer beach reads TXT] 📗

short pause she turned serious again. “One thing is certain— everything that’s happened to you would make quite a story.”

“Not sure about that,” he said, shaking his head in the negative. “It’s mainly about Valerie and Olivia. They were the ones at the center of it, danger-wise.”

“I seem to remember some guy trying to either kidnap or kill you. What was it? Three times?”

“True, but still…”

Ana threw her arms up in frustration, convinced that Ben was extremely reluctant to be the hero of the story. She shooed him back to his room and promised to be put together in half an hour. When she had freshened up she was the one who knocked, this time asking if he was decent. He told her to come in, and when she did she found him standing by the bed in only a towel. The bruises on his body were evident, and although she was sympathetic, the sight of his bare torso took her thoughts elsewhere.

“I’ll be ready in a few,” he said, and then grabbed the clean clothes piled on the bed before disappearing into the bathroom.

* * *

During the cab ride to the hospital Ben commented that the city now looked different to him, that when they first arrived Pamplona seemed like an adversary, a threat to finding his sister and ex-wife. Ana agreed that she saw the city differently as well. She told him it was time for them to enjoy it, but Ben pointed out that he wasn’t sure he could wipe everything from his mind well enough for that. He then assured her that if not in Pamplona, they would definitely find enjoyment somewhere.

When they reached Olivia’s cubicle, she had just finished dressing in the clothing her mother had purchased in the hotel shop. She said her parents were settling the bill and planned to take her back to the hotel. They agreed that finding hers and Valerie’s belongings would be a lost cause, and that they had surely been disposed of in order to erase any trace of the two women being in Pamplona. Olivia whined to Ben that her parents insisted on switching to adjoining rooms, where Paris could keep a motherly eye on her until they returned to London. Then she begged him to intervene with their plans to whisk her off to the country. He told her to stop fussing, that she still needed rest. There was a brief pout, but resigned to her fate she flopped down on the bed to wait.

Ben told Ana she might as well leave for the Comisaria—not wait for his parents to return. He predicted everyone would have a meal together after his parents moved rooms and got Olivia settled in. Ana impulsively gave him a kiss on the cheek and then wondered if she should have done so in front of Olivia. She turned to say goodbye and saw Olivia’s wide, somewhat teasing smile. Ben winked at her and she left.

While en route to the Comisaria, Ana reviewed the methods for investigative reporting she had learned but not put into practice for quite a while. She checked her purse for a pad and pen to use in case the inspector didn’t want to be recorded on her phone. She and Ben had forgotten to check whether Macias was on duty and she hoped that even if he wasn’t on site, someone could be persuaded to show her the file containing Annunciata’s information. Stepping out of the cab she remembered the first rule: walk with authority and adopt a confident stance. An open smile, preferably sincere, was also a plus. Then it was pretty much a matter of ‘catching more flies with honey.’ Ana didn’t consider that to be a sexist ploy because affability was appropriate in all cases. And besides, men did catch a lot of flies with honey— the flies being of the female variety— and for both personal and professional reasons. Then came the realization that she was well on her way to becoming a cynic.

At the entrance a uniformed man on his way out smiled and held the door for her. Quickly scanning the room, she noticed the information counter and the officer sitting behind it. Ana approached with confidence and a smile then asked for Inspector Macias. In order to see into the inspector’s office, the man craned his neck to look over the heads of the men sitting at their desks. Macias’ chair was empty.

“No es aquí, señorita,” he said, looking back down at the open file on the counter.

She persisted, asking, “English?”

“Sólo un poco,” he replied, sounding indifferent.

Her shoulders drooped, knowing it would be a miracle to accomplish the goal she had set without a decent command of Spanish for her and more than a little English for him. The officer sensed Ana’s frustration and told her to wait. He stepped away for a moment and waved to another officer, motioning him to come over. One problem was solved. The officer spoke English, and she was able to question him about records associated with the recent kidnapping of two women. He said the files did exist, but that not just anyone could come in and expect to see them. Ana made an effort to stand taller, and then related to him, slowly, the facts of her involvement and the need for the information about the woman who had been instrumental in finding the two victims. She stressed that it would be to the woman’s benefit if they could find her. He was unimpressed with her plea and shook his head no. So with her determination still intact Ana thanked him, hesitating to walk away without what she came for. Concurrently, a nicely dressed man with a leather satchel under his arm strode hastily through the entrance, pushing open both doors at once.

Another officer, who had just come into the foyer from the office area, saw the man and called, “Saludos, Macias! ¿Cómo estás?” Ana spun around and headed straight for him.

*