Concrete Evidence (14 page)

   CHAPTER 17

Todd Harris wolfed three plates of tapas and only stopped eating when he could smell garlic on his own breath. The tables around him emptied as diners finished eating and then moved off onto different bars. He swilled four beers with his meal and felt relaxed if not a little bloated. The noisy English women made to leave; their language was spiralling towards the gutter. Louder and more coarse. When the waiter arrived to take their payment, one of them grabbed his crotch, much to the amusement of the others. Their hysterical cackling laughter drew withering looks from the remaining diners and passersby but they were oblivious. Todd laughed to himself as the red faced waiter scurried back inside the bar.

Their chairs scraped on the cobbles as they stood to leave. A brunette staggered backwards and clattered into a nearby table. Luckily it was empty. She shrieked loudly and blushed. She turned and looked at Tod, giggling like a schoolgirl, shrugged her shoulders and staggered off. The lone male appeared from inside the bar. Tod hadn’t noticed him leaving the table that he was sitting at. There was something shifty about the man, something about the way his eyes darted around. Tod returned his attention to the English women. He studied them as they teetered on their heels and headed down the lane. Any one of them would be an easy lay with or without Rohypnol. Wine or vodka would do the trick. They were up for it anyway although only one of them really interested him. She was curvy and her blond hair was made longer and thicker by extensions. Her black Lycra dress hugged her in the right places. His imagination played images of her in his mind, moaning, writhing, sweating, urging him to go faster, harder but then the images darkened to sobbing, screaming, struggling against him and then there was blood. Why did his thoughts always have to turn dark? He felt his stomach tightening as he watched her. It dawned on him that he might be staring at the woman a little too hard. Looking, staring, leering.

              He looked away quickly and blushed. He caught the lone male studying him. As soon as their eyes met, the man dropped his gaze. An elderly couple on the far table caught his eye too. They were whispering and looking in his direction. He turned to look behind him and saw that one of the English women had tripped and fallen. Were they looking at her or him? Was it guilt that made him feel that they were staring at him or was it just natural? Was paranoia natural? It is when you were on the run. It had to be. The women screeched with laughter and dragged their friend to her feet before staggering on their way once more.

              When his attention returned to bar, he noticed that the elderly couple were attempting to pay but the old man couldn’t find his wallet. He checked and rechecked his pockets half a dozen times without joy. His wife sat tightlipped shaking her head embarrassed by her husband’s forgetfulness. She tutted and rolled her eyes skyward before taking her purse from her handbag and handing the waiter enough money to cover the bill. They stood and walked slowly past his table arm in arm. The old man was mumbling about how certain he was that he had brought his wallet out and the old woman was equally as convinced that he couldn’t remember his own name some days.

  Tod caught the waiter’s attention and slipped three ten Euro notes onto the table. That would cover the bill and leave a decent tip. He glanced at the lone male and walked across the cobbles in the direction that the women had taken. A cool breeze touched his skin. The scent of perfume carried to him. Armani, D&G, Diesel and Chanel mingled. He knew his perfumes; that was for sure. He prided himself on being able to identify a fragrance although that particular talent didn’t always impress the ladies. They were suspicious by nature. Identifying the brand of their perfume provoked images of previous female conquests in their warped minds. They were all warped. All of them. Black Widows spinning their webs to ensnare the male of the species. They were nest builders, pretending to be ‘just having fun’ but in reality they were all looking for that elusive man. The one that they deemed could be a potential partner for life. They were as much predators as men were but in their case, they were playing for keeps. Venus fly traps offering the sweetness they had within, then once you liked the taste, snap! The trap was closed, the ring was on their finger, a mortgage acquired, the nursery was decorated and welcome to the rest of your life spent at the bequest of her demands. Her aspirations were now yours to achieve, her dreams yours to deliver. They pretended to be complex delicate creatures but Tod understood the simple reality. He knew the truth and they couldn’t fool him.

              The women had reached a crossroads and chose to turn right, heading down towards the promenade where the lively bars were situated. They were linked arm around shoulder like a line of chorus girls, forming a rolling roadblock that locals and other tourists had to manoeuvre around. The blond was on the far right of the line. His thoughts turned to a wildlife documentary where hunting lionesses would stalk the prey at the edge of the herd. The thought tickled him. He imagined the faces of startled onlookers as he pounced on her and brought her down in the street. He would be locked away in a padded cell but then maybe that’s where he belonged.

              The lane was busier as he neared the junction. The crowds were thickening but he could still see the women a hundred metres ahead of him. They had stopped outside a bar deciding whether or not to go in. A tout was chatting to them, more than likely offering free shots to entice them in. A child cried out and he stumbled.

              “Watch where you’re going, idiot!” A woman with a London accent snarled at him. Her daughter clutched at her foot and began to cry.

              “My toes!” she moaned.

              “I’m so sorry,” Tod said genuinely. “I didn’t see her down there.”

              “Sorry?” the mother shouted. “Are you blind?”

              “I am really sorry.”

              “What’s going on?” a deep voice growled. Tod turned to see a big male approaching. He was fat, tattooed, and his head was shaved and he looked angry.

              “This clumsy idiot stamped on our Madonna’s toes,” the mother goaded him.

              Madonna? Tod thought. What chance does a child have when it’s named after a pop star or a footballer? “I’m very sorry, Madonna,” he said to the whining child through gritted teeth.

              “You will be!” the father approached with a scowl on his face. He squared up to Tod, his nose an inch away from his face. “You need to watch where you’re going!”

              Tod thought about head-butting him but the last thing that he wanted now was attention. Violent behaviour was taken very seriously in the Spanish resorts. It would be a huge mistake to become embroiled in a fight in the middle of the street. “I’m very sorry,” he stepped back and held up his hands. He reached into his pocket for a note, “here, get yourself an ice cream,” he handed the note to the little girl. She snatched it without any hesitation. He turned to walk away and bumped into an elderly couple. The man looked shocked and swore in a language that Tod didn’t understand. “I’m very sorry,” Tod said turning away quickly. He stepped aside to circumvent the crowd and felt a hard shove in the hip. It came from behind. Turning, he looked around but the crowd had closed on whoever had pushed him. He was surrounded by strangers. He took a deep breath and tried to put some space between himself and the family and instinctively put his hand to his hip where he had felt the contact. His wallet was gone.

              “Shit!” he shouted looking around frantically. The crowd parted for a second and he caught site of the lone male from the restaurant darting through the tourists with practiced ease. He watched him twist and turn, sidestepping and ducking. He used the tourists as camouflage slipping between them to remain undetected. The old man had lost his wallet at the bar and now Tod’s had gone too. It had all his debit cards and cash in it. It had to be him that had stolen them.

              “Stop there, you thieving little bastard!” Tod shouted at the top of his voice. The entire street froze for a millisecond as people tried to pinpoint who was shouting and who was a thief. The thief stopped for a second and looked over his shoulder. Their eyes met again. Tod used the moment to his advantage and ran towards him. “Give me my wallet back, you little twat!” he sprinted towards him, the tourists parted like the Red Sea. He closed the distance quickly but the thief regained his composure and ran back down the lane towards the bar that they had come from.

              The thief was quick. Very quick indeed. Much faster than Tod. He sprinted as fast as his legs would allow him to but the thief was making a metre for every metre they covered. Tod regretted shouting at the man. He should have followed him in silence and then cornered him. The cobblestones made running at pace difficult. They were uneven and worn smooth and Tod feared slipping. At the pace he was running, if he fell then he would either break his wrists or smash his face in.

              The bar went by in a blur of lights and he could feel his lungs beginning to burn with exertion. His thigh muscles were screaming at him to stop, lactic acid was coursing through the muscle cells tightening the fibres and slowing him down. Lager sloshed around in his belly, threatening to come back up and choke him and he burped an acidic mixture of garlic and beer, which stung his gullet. The thief was pulling further away, his arms and legs pumped like pistons. Tod heaved air into his lungs and ran faster. The effort was unsustainable but losing his bank cards wasn’t an option. He had to catch him.

              The thief skidded on the cobbles and changed direction. He found his footing and turned right into a narrow lane and Tod lost sight of him for a few seconds. He counted in his head, one, two, three, four, five, six, and then he took the turn himself. The pickpocket was running hard without slowing. Tod felt his heart sink when he saw the gradient of the lane. The cobbles climbed steeply for a few hundred metres to some wide stone steps, which led to the street above but he couldn’t see what was beyond the hill. He wasn’t sure if he would make it. His legs were like lead as the gradient began to bite. The thief turned to look over his shoulder and the panicked look on his face spurred Tod onwards. He was tiring.

              Adrenalin pumped through his veins as he steeled himself to conquer the incline. His thighs were on fire as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Blood pounded in his ears blocking out all other sounds except the rasping of his breath. It felt like running through wet concrete. His mind wanted his body to run faster but his body couldn’t deliver. The pickpocket was feeling the pain too as he neared the steps. He stopped for a second and grabbed at the iron handrail that split the steps in half. His chest heaved and he bent double and retched. He stole a quick glance at Tod, who was closing the gap and then bolted up the steps taking them two at a time.

              Tod counted the seconds in his mind, one, two, three, four and he was at the bottom of the steps. He was gaining ground now but his body was shutting down. He was panting like a dog; sweat soaked his clothes and stung his eyes. The muscles in his legs were exhausted and his knees and ankles sent bolts of pain to his brain every time his feet impacted with the cobbles. The thief was nearing the brow of the hill as Tod launched himself up the steps.

                When he reached the top, he could hear the thief’s footsteps pounding the cobbles but he couldn’t see him. He looked left down a long sloping road but it was empty. To his right was a whitewashed church illuminated by spotlights. Tourists milled around taking photographs. Panic gripped him. He couldn’t see which way the thief had run. Suddenly he heard a clatter and a muffled cry. Directly opposite him was a narrow alleyway between the buildings. He hadn’t seen it at first because the lighting was poor. It was pitch black in the alley but there was no doubt that the noise had come from that direction.        

              Tod took a deep breath and burst across the road. He entered the inky blackness of the alley without hesitation. The street-lighting hardly penetrated the darkness and within a few strides, he was running blind. He knew that he would have to slow down or risk running into a hidden obstacle. Another clatter up ahead brought him to a sudden stop. He tried to slow his breathing so that he could listen. Another muffled cry and a scrambling sound. Then the sound of feet running again. “Shit!” Tod wheezed as he took off in pursuit at a jog. He couldn’t risk running any faster. A fall here could leave him badly hurt.

              His eyes began to adjust to the darkness and deep shadows leapt out at him as he ran.  He stepped over an upturned bin and saw refuse scattered. Tod figured it was the cause of the clatter that he had heard. He stared hard into the night as he ran along the narrowing alleyway. There was barely room between the walls to stand without twisting his shoulders at a slight angle. Dark rectangles spotted the walls on either side; it registered that they were doors that gave access to backyards or gardens. The shuffling sound ahead gave him hope. He was close to the thief. Too close to give up. He took a deep breath and his lungs felt like they would explode. His thighs felt like they were pumped full of caustic. They burned and ached like never before. Sweat poured down his face in salty stinging rivulets. The exertion was crippling him. He blanked the fatigue and maintained a steady pace until the shadows in front of him became an impregnable wall. He reached out and touched cold wet rock. Moss and lichen clung to the near vertical surface. Looking up, the wall loomed above him bowing out to block out the stars. “Shit!” he cursed again. The rocky outcrop formed a dead end.