The Spanish Connection (16 page)

He shook his head. "I'd say he was a free-lancer. Mercenary for hire. That kind of thing. I told you Interpol had rung up a 'no sale' on him. But I'm going to put through his prints, anyway."

I continued reading the papers, then started in on his luggage. There was nothing there to hint at anything but an affluent Britisher who spent most of his time touring the Continent.

Kelly got out a small kit and began to roll Parson's prints. When he had finished all ten, he wiped off the ink carefully and put the prints in a glassine bag. Then he got out a small mini-camera, Japanese-made with the name filed off, and took several shots of Parson's face. In repose Barry Parson looked quite harmless, lacking in the vitality that made him what he was in life.

There was absolutely nothing in his things to tie Parson to a syndicate of any land. We figured that Parson had not been working for any group Tina was fronting but for her especially.

And that made Tina a number-one question mark. Who was she working for — if, indeed, she was working for anyone?

Kelly kept glancing at his watch.

"Worried about the time?" I asked.

"I'm wondering what we're going to do with this body."

I took a deep breath. "Not much we can do. We just go out and leave it here."

"But Elena Morales?"

"She comes in and finds it. And she blows the whistle. Nothing to tie Parson to us — nothing concrete."

"We were seen in the discothèque with him."

"Can you put in a fix?"

Kelly considered. "It's pretty late. That's why I was checking the time. Eleven-thirty. I don't think my contact is on duty now."

"The tall man with the Fu Manchu mustache?"

Kelly grinned. "Yeah. You know him?"

I sat down and stared at the carpet. "We've got another problem to worry about now. Tina doesn't know her hit man is dead. She thinks he's going to be waiting for her to arrive at Sol y Nieve to finger Corelli. And that means she's going to be coming up here. We've got to stop her."

Kelly frowned. "How?"

I thought hard for a long moment. "Look. How about this? We call Tina at the hotel in Granada. We leave a message from The Man. It says he's leaving Sol y Nieve and wants to know where to meet her. Then we just wait here till she calls the hotel. We find out who she wants to talk to. And that man is Rico Corelli."

I stared out the window, waiting for Kelly's response. "It sounds good. What do we have to lose?"

"Suppose she immediately calls Parson to tell him whom to shoot?"

Kelly shrugged. "She finds out Parson is dead, and then she contacts Corelli. We're ahead either way."

"I'm going down to the lounge to intercept Elena Morales," I said. "I don't want her wandering up here and finding the body. She might alert the whole hotel."

"I'll join you as soon as I take care of the Bergson woman."

We left the door unlocked and stepped into the hallway. No one saw us.

Both Juana Rivera and Elena Morales looked up at me as I entered the lounge a few minutes later. I had heard loud laughter and shouts of mirth all the way out in the lobby. Juana and Elena were in the middle of a raucous party with Herr Hauptli, his two Germans, his Dane, and a group of about twenty other skiing couples.

I strolled over and nodded to Juana and Elena. They made a place for me between them. Herr Hauptli saw me, greeted me, and introduced me to the group.

I grinned, waved my hand, and sank back in the couch between the girls, looking into the blazing fire. It was safe and secure in here, far from the sound of gunshots and the sight of blood.

Herr Hauptli was regaling the group with some of his more entertaining sporting exploits — he was a hunting buff, a fishing expert, a yachtsman of great accomplishment, and a great mountain climber — and I scribbled a few lines on a dinner check and passed it to Juana with a warning to keep it out of sight.

She didn't even acknowledge it, but I knew she was reading it out of sight of everyone. A sharp elbow in my rib told me that she understood.

I had put that last part in because I didn't know quite what to do about Elena Morales. If she was seriously involved with Barry Parson, she might have known — or guessed — what he was up to. If not, there was no need to have her hauled in for investigation. For her sake, I didn't want her to find out about Parson's death just yet. If Juana couldn't handle her, I felt that I could.

Mitch Kelly appeared at the doorway of the lounge, grinning broadly and waving at some of the couples he knew. Then he spotted me, and came over quickly, leaned down and said in a low voice, "Lobby. Quick." No one else had heard. He squeezed my shoulder, kissed Juana on the cheek lavishly, and left the lounge after a nod of apology to Herr Hauptli.

I touched Juana's thigh and got up to go. Kelly stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass window at the rear of the lobby that overlooked the bottom of the ski run. He was watching my reflection in the glass. The lobby was completely deserted.

He spoke in my ear without moving his lips — an old cop trick picked up from prison inmates.

"She's left the hotel in Granada. Seems to be headed for Sol y Nieve."

"When did she leave?"

"This evening. No telling when."

"That's bad news."

Kelly nodded.

In the reflection of the plate-glass window I saw one of the desk clerks put down a telephone and walk across the lobby toward the lounge. After a minute he came out again. Behind him, walking quickly and gracefully, was Elena Morales.

I nudged Kelly. Elena was headed purposefully toward the stairway. That meant that she was going up to her room — the room she shared with Barry Parson!

Kelly and I exchanged startled glances. I could see Juana emerging from the lounge with a worried look. I punched Kelly.

"Hold Juana in the lounge. You join her. I'm going up after Elena."

"Right."

I waited till Elena was halfway up the stairs before I started after her. Something had happened. Someone had alerted her. I couldn't understand who — or why. Yet it was obvious that she was going to her own room.

Third floor. Down the corridor, around the turn. She reached into her bag for her keys. But when she got them out and touched the knob, the door opened. She turned to look up and down the corridor. I had anticipated such a movement and had ducked back around the corner, out of sight.

She didn't see me.

I heard the door close behind her.

Quickly I moved down the corridor and planted myself outside her door. At first I couldn't hear anything through the thickness of the paneling. The carpet kept any sounds from drifting through the crack between the door and the frame.

But then I thought I could hear the murmuring of voices inside. I could hear one light, high voice — a woman's. Elena Morales' voice, certainly. But who was she talking to?

No one. She was using the phone — of course!

Then the murmuring stopped and I couldn't hear anything more. I waited for the sound of the receiver being replaced on the base, but I missed it. Then a door opened and squeaked shut. A closet? Was she dressing to go outside?

I moved quickly to the far end of the corridor and went out onto the balcony that surrounded the building on three sides. I pulled back out of sight and crouched there against the outside wall, waiting for Elena to come out into the corridor.

But she didn't appear.

I glanced at my watch.

Fifteen minutes.

I moved back down the hallway and stopped in front of her door, craning my neck and putting my ear to the paneling.

Nothing.

I drew the Luger and held it against my chest as I stepped forward and turned the knob. The latch was still unlocked, just as Kelly and I had left it.

Quickly I moved inside, placing my back against the door and holding the Luger out in front of me.

There was no one there — alive.

Parsons body lay exactly where we had left it.

But there was no one else in the room.

Where was Elena Morales?

I glanced at the closet doors, but the closet was too small for anyone to hide there. And yet…

It was a faint sound, and at first I wasn't even sure that I had heard it But as I stood there, hardly daring to breathe, I heard it again. It was the unmistakable sound of someone trying to keep very still but shifting his body slightly. I glanced at the closet again, but the sound hadn't come from that direction.

No. It had come from the bathroom.

I held the Luger tightly and moved over to the bathroom door. It was closed.

"Elena," I said in a low voice.

There was no response.

Someone was in there, and it was
not
Elena. Where had she gone? Or was she in there with someone else?

"Elena," I said, louder this time.

Nothing.

"I'm going to open this door. I have a gun. Come out with your hands above your head," I snapped, standing just to one side of the door.

Nothing.

I grasped the door knob, still standing pressed against the paneling of the door, and twisted it. The door opened and swung inward. I tensed. There wasn't a sound.

Through the open crack I could see inside the bathroom. The light was on. And there, pale and tense, stood Tina Bergson — terrified out of her mind.

I moved around, covering her with the Luger. Then I saw the paraphernalia on the basin, spread out for use. A hypodermic, a bottle of fluid, swabs of cotton.

She watched me, her eyes wide.

"Where is Elena?" I asked her, though there were a hundred other questions I could have asked instead.

She shook her head. "I did not see Elena. I saw only Barry. And he — he was dead." Her voice sank to a whisper. She was on the verge of fainting.

I moved inside the bathroom and gripped her roughly by the elbow. She sagged against me, breathing heavily.

"She killed him?" her voice whispered in my ear.

I said nothing. How could I tell her it was Kelly and me?

"Why did you come back to Sol y Nieve?" I asked her quietly.

Her eyes turned to stare at me. I pushed her around and made her sit down on the edge of the tub. I sank down beside her. I held the Luger on her chest. She was a devious woman, and I didn't trust her at all.

"To see… to see…"

"Barry Parson," I supplied. "To show him Corelli, so he could kill him."

There wasn't a sound.

Her lips trembled, and her eyes moved away from me. "Yes," she whispered.

"You hired Barry Parson to kill Corelli," I said flatly. "You can't deny it. He told us before…"

"I don't deny it," she said steadily. Her face was regaining some of its color. My eyes slid to the hypodermic needle.

"Motive?" I asked. "You're an addict? Is that it?"

She shrugged. "I am all mixed up. I do not know why I want to kill him, except that I hate him more than anyone else in the world."

"But he's giving it up, turning in everyone involved in the drug chain," I said.

She hung her head.

"Why did you come back?" I asked again.

"To find Barry," Tina said softly. "I came up along the balcony, and I looked in and saw him. Dead. I came in…"

I stared past her shoulder. Of course! The balcony! That was how Elena had left the room without my seeing her. When Elena had found Barry dead she had been frightened out of her wits, and she had fled. She had simply opened the French doors, stepped out onto the balcony, and hurried away. Then, just after that, Tina had come up the back way to meet Barry in his room — perhaps the two of them had planned to meet — and she had found Barry dead. Her need for drugs had taken over, and she had gone into the bathroom for a fix just as I had blundered in.

"I came in and found that he had been shot. I thought at first Elena might have killed him. But perhaps Corelli discovered Barry was after him. Perhaps Corelli knew that I…" Her eyes began to fill with tears. "I'm frightened, Nick!"

I shook her. "You've
got
to take me to Corelli, Tina. It's the only answer. Too many people have tried to keep us from getting that list of names. Too many. Now it's up to you, Tina."

She turned pale. "He'll know, Nick! He'll guess I hired someone to kill him! You can't make me do that. You've got to let me go!"

"No way, Tina!" I snapped. "You're the only answer. You're taking me to him right now. Just point him out to me, and…"

"He won't admit it!" she cried. "He'll deny his identity."

"Tina…"

She reached around for the hypodermic needle. I guessed what she was going to do the moment she turned her shoulder. I pressed the muzzle of the Luger into the soft part of her neck. "No, no, Tina! Not the needle. Sure, that'll make things seem fine for a few minutes, but you'll always have to come back to reality."

"Nick!" she sobbed, still holding the needle.

I slipped the Luger into my pocket and reached for the needle. Her face changed almost instantaneously. From that placid beautiful mask, it turned into the face of a hellcat — eyes flashing, teeth bared, lips pulled back in an animal snarl.

The needle plunged into my forearm before I could defend myself against the crazy, slashing stab.

She laughed in a low, mirthless howl.

I felt everything drain out of me. I felt like a lump of putty.

She was leading me into the next room, then pushing me down into a chair.

"A little mixture of our very own, Nick," she was saying with that satanic smile of hers. "You stay there like a nice little boy. I'm going to get out of here."

No, Tina! I tried to say, but nothing came out.