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

do? Most of the afternoon is gone. What could you possibly do before morning?”

She waited for a response, but Ben hesitated before he answered, “Something. Anything. I can’t just lie here and watch Spanish television.” His tone was rather harsh, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. He leaned backward, propping himself on his elbows, fixing his eyes on Ana. “I’ll tell you what I can do before morning. I’m going to the nearest police station—now!”

Ana heaved an exaggerated sigh and began to shake her head. “I understand what you feel you have to do, but I don’t think you’ll get the response you want from some desk sergeant. What do we know about how law enforcement works in Pamplona?” She realized immediately that it was a question with no answer.

Ben got up from the bed and hurried toward the door that adjoined their rooms. He turned and said, “One way to find out.”

In a moment he returned with wallet and sunglasses in hand. Ana knew she couldn’t change his mind, so she quickly looked around for her bag, hoping more than assuming he would want her to come along.

Ben gently took hold of her arm and shook his head no. “A police station is no place for you. I can’t predict how they’ll react to my request—or should I say demand— for help. A woman tagging along could damage my credibility. I don’t think the average Spanish male is quite as forward thinking about the fairer sex as the English or Americans.”

“First of all, don’t demand. You’ve heard the ‘trap more flies with honey’ saying, haven’t you?”

Ben smirked, but he knew she was right. A foreigner doesn’t stomp into a police station and make demands. He vowed to control his temper. Yet he needed a way to keep Ana from taking part. The fact was that he had a valid reason for her to stay at the hotel: his parents. If neither of them could be reached by phone, his mother would be especially undone. Ben explained that his father would likely be calling to check on them, and since he had all but ordered his son to do nothing yet, someone had to answer and reassure him.

“So, you want me to lie to your parents?” She crossed her arms and assumed the stubborn stance that had become familiar to him.

His response was simple and immediate. “Yes,” he said, then stared at her stone face, waiting for the next expression of outrage. But she surprised him.

“Okay, but it’s on you to smooth things over when all is resolved. I don’t think they’ve totally made up their minds about me yet. This could tip the scales in the wrong direction.”

“Promise. I’ll say I twisted your arm—not physically, but verbally.”

Ana sounded very emphatic as she replied, “I suppose that if you promise only to talk to them and definitely not go out on your own—for any reason—I’ll stay here and do your bidding. And don’t forget to get your passport from the concierge.”

Ben shrugged his shoulders and held out his hands in supplication. “What could I possibly do? On my own I’d have no idea where to start.”

The expression on Ana’s face told Ben he had asked the right question. Yet if given the slightest opportunity to take action, he wouldn’t hesitate to ignore his promise. Hopefully that decision would be something else he could smooth over. Even though he was unsure as to how it would be received, he needed a kiss from Ana to send him on his way. He was apprehensive about what was going on back in the UK and about how the outcome could affect the women. The obstacles before him seemed insurmountable, but he had to do something. If the police balked at getting involved, he would just have to think of another way. These thoughts flashed through his mind as he approached Ana and put his arms around her.

“A kiss for luck?” he asked.

“Two kisses,” she said. “One for luck and one for using good sense.”

Leaving Ana’s presence had become more and more difficult as their days together passed. He would take comfort in the fact that she wouldn’t be directly involved in anything to come. Ben smiled as she stood on tiptoes to reach his lips. Two sweet kisses later they embraced, and then he was out the door. Riding down in the elevator he decided to ask the concierge about the location of the nearest municipal police station. Coming out of the elevator he looked around the lobby for a staff member. He spotted the concierge seated behind an ornate desk, talking on the phone. The young woman ended the call when she saw Ben approaching and flashed an alluring smile as she rose to extend her hand.

“How can I be of service?” she asked in a lilting Spanish accent, taking Ben’s hand for what seemed to him a little longer than necessary.

“I need to find out where the closest police station is located.”

“Have you had a problem? Has something happened?” she asked, her expression changing from coy to apprehensive.

“No, no.” Ben had to think fast—give her a reason why he would be headed to a police station. He said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m a writer. Part of the reason I’m here in Pamplona is to do some research for my current book. It’s a crime story and centers in northern Spain.”

The young woman became excitable and asked what books he had written, were they available translated to Spanish, and what was his name again? He politely told her that he didn’t have time to talk, but that if she would leave her name at the desk he would try to remember to send her a copy of his latest book when he returned home. This more than satisfied her, enabling him to steer the conversation back to the question at hand. Fortunately there was a station, a Comisaria, right in the plaza where the hotel was