The killer knew that within seconds the body would be discovered, despite the sign on the door asking for privacy. The maid had only herself to blame. The sign was there for a reason; ignoring it in order to tick off her list would be something she would regret for the rest of her life.
She could see the maid from her view by the pool as she approached giving only a cursory glance at the sign hanging over the door handle. The bungalow looked no different to the 300 others in the Spanish resort, yet it would be some time before anyone stayed there again.
Within seconds of the maid entering her scream reverberated around the entire complex. It was exciting to watch it all unfold although logic told her she should have left by now putting as much distance from the body as she could. The pull to remain and watch it all unfold was strong; this was her first kill and intrigued to see what would happen next. Staff ran towards what would soon be known as the ‘crime scene’ – it was a bloody mess. He had fought for his life, yet was no match for her. In the end she had subdued him before cutting his throat – up close and personal. That was the right way to do it, none of this bullet in the back of the head nonsense. This was her first, yet she knew they was an art to this – murder is merely suicide by an extrovert.
There was lots of loud speaking in Spanish, which she understood perfectly. All the years of coming on holiday here were paying off. She never understood those who visited the same country year after year, yet never felt any inclination to at least get a grasp of the language. It was rude; plain and simple. By now there was a crowd forming. The complex was mainly British holidaymakers. You could literally see the north, south divide. The northerners crowding round gossiping and trying to find out what was going on; no doubt making new friends to have dinner with that evening. The southerners acting like nothing was going on, sipping their cocktails and reading the last bodice-ripping best-seller – and that was the men! Even when the Police arrived there was nothing that would invite even a casual glance – this was simply none of their business and they intended to keep it that way.
The Police were now around the pool area and she was blending in with the southerners, pretending to read a book. They had some staff members with them who glanced around the pool and then pointed in her direction. Well that didn’t take long did it?
The Police Officer approached with some apprehension and spoke to her in English; his accent subtle and easy to understand.
“Madame, can we go somewhere more private?” he asked
Who was she to refuse? What is it about Spanish policemen? They all had a certain look and it was delightful.
As she left the pool area, even the southerners couldn’t help but stare, apart from a few – clearly Londoners. She was escorted to the manager’s office where there were several officers waiting for her and she knew the game was up, or was it? Could she really get away with it?
“Madame, I’m afraid I have some very bad news about your husband…”