Never Trust a Callboy (13 page)

A soft knock on the door wakes me up again.

"Tamara? Are you awake?" asks Anna quietly.

“Yes. Come on in." The door hinge squeaks, and a cat jumps on my bed. With a quiet purr she starts to trample my belly.

"Who is this?" I ask, and drop the animal carefully on the ground.

"Minn. You're lying on her bed," Anna replies. "Antonio called, he wants to know whether we’d like to have dinner with him. Do you want to? He’s curious, I’ve told him all about you. If you want, we can stay there overnight." She smiles. "He has an outstanding red wine collection and I'm always happy if I don’t have to drive afterwards."

"If I'm not going to be in the way, I’d love to." Full of energy, I sit up, throw back the blanket and move to the edge of the bed. "Give me a quarter of an hour, then I'll be ready."

"Good. I’ll wait for you on the terrace." Anna closes the door, and I get up, wash my face and apply my make-up, while Minn makes herself comfortably on the bed.

We have to cross the island to get to Antonio’s place. He lives in a small farmhouse not far from the tourist resort of Santa Eulalia. The old building is situated in a large garden, surrounded by beautiful gnarled olive trees.

Anna shows me the guest room first, but I only stay briefly in the room, long enough to put down my backpack in which I have packed clean clothes for tomorrow and a little cosmetic bag.

"He should be here any moment," says Anna, who’s waiting for me in the hallway, after a glance at the clock. "Join me in the kitchen while I prepare the food."

"Of course, but only if I can help."

Anna is dismissive. "There’s not much to do. We need to cook the pasta. I’m just serving it with basil pesto and a salad."

Anna's right. While she prepares the salad and cooks the pasta, we settle around the wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. The red wine is wonderful. Strong and velvety. I'm glad we don't have to go back to her place. Just two glasses and I will be drunk.

"Anna, you are a goddess in the kitchen, and you too, Tamara, of course," Antonio praises us later as we all sit on the terrace and eat dessert. Luckily he is fluent in German so I don’t have to struggle with my limited knowledge of Spanish.

"I would not call that cooking," Anna is dismissive, but I notice how she enjoys the compliment.

"How do you like Ibiza Tamara?"

"It's beautiful here. I would happily stay forever," I reply and realize I really mean it. I could imagine spending the rest of my days on the island.

"Who knows, maybe you'll move here too, just like Anna. Once you’ve met the Spanish men, you'll never want to leave,” he adds with a wink. Anna gives him a playful slap on the arm.

"Don't listen to him," she says to me. "He forgot to mention how conceited the Spanish men are."

I smile. It's nice to see Anna so happy. So far, she’s had little luck in love, but it looks like that has finally changed.

"Tamara wanted to ask you for your advice," interjects Anna, and I grimace. It’s not exactly a subtle indication that I should start with my story, and it hits me unprepared, I would have liked to enjoy the harmless banter a little longer.

"Anna's right," I admit, hesitantly. "I wanted to ask you for advice in a somewhat complicated matter."

"I know. She has already told me that you have problems and I had to swear not to turn you in to my German colleagues. If you want to tell me what happened." He smiles. "You don’t necessarily have to tell me everything, I don’t want to know anything that I’d be better off not knowing as a policeman."

"Okay, then I guess I’ll just start at the beginning," And so I haltingly begin my narration. "Last Monday morning I discovered something very unpleasant in our kitchen. One might call it a foreign body." That was a very good description for a corpse, I praise myself inwardly and proceed: "this discovery worried me quite a lot. I then ... removed the foreign body."

"You did what?"

"I... well, I have... so..."

"Why didn't you call the police?" asks Antonio when I don’t manage to produce an answer.

"I was afraid they would think I was guilty, and the police had just been to my house. Someone had reported a burglary, and they wanted to check that everything was all right. At that time I knew nothing about... the foreign body in my kitchen."

"Strange." Antonio frowns. "What happened then?"

"I went through all the rooms after that, because I was scared there could still be somebody else in the house. But I was alone. In my panic I removed everything, my discovery, any traces. I later realized what a mistake that was. I should have told the policemen the truth. I’ve put myself in a really bad situation, haven’t I? They’re never going to believe me now, are they?"

"I must admit, it doesn't look good," Antonio responds. "You’re guilty of at least one, if not multiple crimes. You’ve acted as if everything is completely normal, to then admit days later that you made a strange discovery is very suspicious."

I nod. "Yes, I realize that. Unfortunately that's not all."

Antonio gives me a skeptical look and raises his eyebrows. I can see from his expression that I already have enough problems in his opinion, without adding even more to my story.

"I've been threatened."

"You've been threatened? ... In connection with this discovery?"

“No. That is to say, I don't know. There were two men, they said someone didn’t like what I did, but I don’t know what that is. At first I thought they wanted me to transfer back the money that I moved from my ex’s account, but now I’m not sure."

Antonio lets out a sigh. "Okay, I’m slowly getting why you said the matter was complicated. What’s with the money?"

"I wanted revenge on Ron, my ex. I wanted to punish him for his infidelity. So I transferred money from one of his accounts to another, an old savings account. It's his account, I stole nothing, but he doesn't know what I did."

"Could it be that you have a talent for getting into trouble?"

"He betrayed me!”

Antonio raises his hands in a defensive gesture. "I don’t want to interfere there. It's your life. But Anna said you need my advice, so..."

"Wait," I interrupt him. "There is something else you should know."

With a sigh he waits for me to continue.

"So far it looks like Ron had something to do with what I discovered in our house. I found out that he wasn’t on a business trip, as he claimed, but spent the weekend nearby with his girlfriend. In addition, he must have been in the house on the day on which the... uh... the act was committed."

"Do I understand you correctly? An offence has been committed and Ron doesn't have an alibi, but was in fact nearby and could be the culprit?"

“Yes. But it looks like he wanted to put the blame on to me. Otherwise I can't explain how there was blood on my sweater." Silence. Damn. I didn’t mean to say it, but somehow it slipped out.

"I didn’t want to know," mumbles Antonio promptly and empties his wine glass. "So, to sum up once again: the police come, you send them away and then discover something unusual in your kitchen. Then you’re threatened and find evidence suggesting that Ron possibly committed a crime. Right so far?"

"Yes."

"In other words, it is very likely that Ron is a criminal and tried to frame you. And you’ve hidden or destroyed any evidence of this crime?"

"Yes."

"Jeez! That doesn't look good." Antonio shakes his head. "You've made a bad situation even worse."

"I had that impression," I admit with a sigh. "What should I do now?"

"It’s high time that you go to the police. That’s the best advice I can give you, because I’m pretty sure you want to live a while longer. It looks as if you’ve gotten yourself in way over your head."

"You're right. It's just... I needed... I had to leave everything, to think about the whole thing. Back in Germany, one disaster was chasing the other. I was no longer able to grasp a clear thought. That’s why I’m here." And because I'm safe here, I think. But he must know that. His opinion of me isn’t very high now, I'm sure of that.

"The sooner you go to the police, the better," Antonio looks at me intently. "Believe me. The longer you cover it up, the worse it gets. You have already maneuvered yourself into a really bad position by eliminating all the evidence. You have hampered the investigation. A prosecutor can convict you on far fewer grounds than you’ve provided. And finally, you can’t prove that you haven’t helped the actual perpetrators. And that’s the best outcome. If you’re very very unfortunate, they’ll think you're the culprit," he adds.

"Oh." My heart is beating hard. Accusations of murder wander through my head. Antonio, who actually is a police officer, sees it exactly as I had feared the whole time.

"What's the penalty in such cases?"

"That depends on what foreign object you eliminated, and exactly which offense you committed subsequently."

“Ah.” I think I'll wait a while longer before going to the police. Perhaps it would be better to act as though I never found a body. Someone would have to prove that I discovered the corpse and then buried it. And besides...

"Tamara? Is everything clear?"

"Oh." Terrified, I look up. Hopefully, Antonio has not guessed my thoughts.

I
t is late in the morning when I wake up. The red wine Antonio served us has not missed its mark. I slept soundly for the first time in days. Satisfied, I stretch out on the pillow. However, the feeling doesn’t last long, because Antonio’s words have sunk firmly into my head: accessory to murder, accusations of murder, obstruction of justice. It’s not definitive, right? At least not as far as I can tell. Apparently, whoever the dead guy was, he’s not even been missed.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" Anna greets me as I enter the kitchen a short time later.

“Yes. Thank you." I yawn, though it’s already eleven o'clock and I slept long enough.

“Here. I think you need a cup of coffee." With these words she pushes a steaming mug over to me.

"You're an angel!" I take a sip with half-closed eyes. Shortly thereafter the caffeine kicks in. "Have you been awake long?"

"A little while, yes. I got up at eight and had breakfast with Antonio. Help yourself." Anna gestures towards the bread basket, where croissants and bread rolls are waiting to be eaten.

I fall on the food ravenously. You'd think I'd eaten nothing for days.

"How about a typical Ibiza day today?"

"What does such a day look like?"

Anna smiles. "First you have to sleep until at least midday. We haven’t quite managed that, but you were very good for a beginner. Then we go to the beach, followed by an extensive styling session which should last at least an hour or even longer, then we need to visit one of the sunset cafes. We have dinner at the cafe followed by a visit to a bar and, if we still haven’t had enough, on to a nightclub. But not before one o'clock in the morning, before that there’s nothing going on."

"Sounds good!"

“Okay. Then let’s start with Las Salinas. The beach of the rich and beautiful... and naked," she adds with a grin.

A day at the beach makes you very tired I realize hours later. I only wanted to lie down briefly in Anna's guest room, but somehow I fell asleep. I don't know what time it is, but if we want to see the sunset, we need to get going soon.

With a bit of effort I get out of bed. I still have to shower, put my make-up on, and figure out what I'll wear for my first night as a reveler on the famous party island.

Noises from outside invade my thoughts. Anna! She has almost certainly been ready for a long time and is waiting for me to appear.

A short while later, we saunter down the small hill to the rocky coast of San Antonio. Several cafés and restaurants line the waterfront. All with views of the sea and the sunset, which already colors the sky orange-red.

A gentle breeze engulfs us in the scent of the sea and the horizon glows like a firework display in red, orange and a bright purple. Soft music plays from the loudspeakers as we sit down at the small table we have discovered in the first restaurant.

For a while we sit silently and watch as the sun slowly sinks into the sea.

Anna is right, it is actually one of the most beautiful sunsets I've ever seen. We drink a Spanish red wine, spoil ourselves with good food and watch the boisterous youngsters who are well rested and ready to turn night into day.

Fire eaters perform their stunts in the sand next to the café together with acrobats and dancers who sway to the sound of drums and cymbals. Not even the English tourists burned bright red from the sun and who populate the cafe can faze us.

After dinner we visit another bar, also by the sea. The room is open to the beach, and divided from it only by some slender metal rods on which silky white veils are hanging.

I get a caipirinha and lean back against the bar counter to watch the people around me, while Anna holds an excited conversation with the bartender about which cocktail is ‘in’ just now.

"Hello. How's it going?" I'm approached by a lanky, handsome guy. He has long blond hair, but despite that has a very manly appearance, possibly because of his muscle-bound arms that are showcased nicely by his tight t-shirt.

"Good. And you?" I ask back, while I continue to assess him. I've seen him somewhere before. Right, he’s the fire-eater from the beach.

"Couldn't be better." With a grin, he leans against the bar next to me. "You want one?" He holds out his cigarettes, but I politely refuse. With a shrug, he lights up a cigarette. Hopefully, his mouth doesn’t catch fire after swallowing all those spirits.

I don’t quite remember how it happened, but later that evening I find myself standing with him in a corner. He kisses me, roams my body with his hands and draws me closer to him. It's a nice feeling, being desired by a handsome man. I reciprocate the kiss, noticing how the sparks fly between us, and pull him to me. I start to explore his body.

But then a picture pops up in my head. Christian! As if I had just been hit in the face with cold water, I stop. What am I doing? I don't even know the name of the fire breather! But then, I give myself a nudge, I will probably never see Christian again, and in any case, he is a callboy. His profession guarantees that he’s already been to bed with several women since the last time I saw him.