9 Ibiza Gran Hotel
Ibiza Gran Hotel
“Are you carrying a gun, Senor Allon?”
“Should I be?”
She slipped a forefinger beneath the left lapel of Gabriel’s jacket and had a look for herself. Then she searched the right
side and ran a hand discreetly over the small of his back.
“Don’t you want to check for an ankle holster?”
“You don’t strike me as the type.” She extended her hand in greeting. “I’m Inspector Eva Aragón of the Policía Nacional.”
“So I gathered.”
They sat down at a table in the lobby bar, and the inspector, after engaging the waiter in a few pleasantries, ordered café solo for them both. Her eyes were restless and a peculiar shade of blue-gray. She wore no jewelry other than a digital wristwatch,
and her nails were trimmed short like a boy’s. Her left hand appeared slightly swollen. There was an abrasion on one of her
knuckles.
“First time in Spain?” she asked.
“You tell me,” replied Gabriel.
“You flew into Madrid a couple of years ago using a passport bearing the name Gabriel Allon. A surveillance team from our
domestic security service attempted to follow you, but you gave them the slip in Salamanca. They were wondering what you were
doing there.”
“I was visiting a friend.”
“Friend have a name?”
Gabriel decided there was no harm in answering truthfully. “Magdalena Navarro.”
“The painter?”
“Very impressive.”
She ignored the backhanded compliment. “How do you know her?”
“Some other time, Inspector.”
She reached into her handbag and withdrew a thick file. “For the record, this is all highly unusual. If it were anyone but
you, I would have refused.”
“I’m flattered.”
“So easily?” Smiling, she placed the file on the table. “Where would you like me to begin?”
“I’ve always found it helpful to begin at the beginning.”
“But which beginning, Senor Allon?” She opened the file. “There are so many from which to choose.”
Inspector Eva Aragón chose as her starting point the victim’s last day on the island, though even this was problematic, she
added, because the Policía Nacional had yet to determine conclusively that Alice Winter was in fact a victim of a crime or
that she was no longer on Ibiza. Interviews with her friends Sophie Maxwell and Ella Burns had established that she left her
rented villa late Friday morning to do a bit of shopping. Neither woman was able to recall the exact time of her departure,
but she drove past a security camera in the nearby town of Sant Miquel at 11:28 a.m. She arrived in Ibiza Town shortly before noon and, after leaving her Mercedes in a public car park, had coffee and torrijas at a café on the Vara de Rey.
From there she window-shopped her way eastward to the marina, then stopped for a spritzer and
tapas at Calma. Leaving the restaurant, she popped into Dolce & Gabbana and Dior before heading to Louis Vuitton, where she
purchased a cotton ballcap.
“Price available upon request,” remarked Inspector Aragón.
“I’m told there’s video.”
She laid a still image of the transaction on the table. Alice was handing her credit card to the saleswoman. She was wearing
a white blouse, white capri pants, flat-soled Hermès sandals, and a great deal of jewelry. She was, thought Gabriel, a robbery
waiting to happen.
“Her husband says she withdrew two thousand euros from a nearby ATM machine.”
The detective slid a second photograph onto the tabletop. It had been snapped by the ATM’s camera. Alice, in sunglasses and
her new Vuitton cap, was almost unrecognizable.
“Where did she go next?”
“The car park where she left the Mercedes. She departed—”
“At 2:56 p.m.,” Gabriel interjected. “The twelve-euro fee is her last known charge.”
Inspector Aragón handed over another photograph, a rented Mercedes convertible lying capsized at the bottom of a rocky ravine.
“We cannot say for certain how it ended up there. It’s an isolated stretch of road, very steep and narrow, lots of switchbacks
and dangerous curves.”
“She has a rather dubious driving record.”
“She wouldn’t have been the first tourist to drive off that road. But our working theory is that she was targeted by professional
thieves.”
“Any suspects?”
“The usual.”
“Translation?”
“We have a few homegrown criminal gangs on our enchanted little island, but the real pros come from elsewhere, just like the
tourists. French, Albanians, Turks, even Italians.”
“What sort of Italians?”
“We had a crew from Naples last summer. They arrived on a chartered yacht and stole everything they could lay their hands
on. Wristwatches, mainly. Mobile phones too. There’s a huge market for smartphones in Shanghai. They get cleaned up, repackaged,
and sold as new devices. It’s a multibillion-euro industry.”
“When was the last time a thief killed someone over a phone or a wristwatch?”
“It’s rare, Senor Allon, but it happens. Especially when the victim decides to stand her ground.”
“Alice’s husband seems to think she would have handed over her valuables without hesitation.”
“Perhaps Alice’s husband doesn’t know his wife as well as he thinks he does.”
Gabriel asked whether any blood had been found in the car. Inspector Aragón replied with a shake of her head.
“That would suggest she wasn’t behind the wheel when the car plunged into that ravine.”
“The Policía cannot say that with certainty, but that is our suspicion.”
“What can the Policía say?”
“That one week after her disappearance, the whereabouts of Alice Winter remain unknown. With each passing day the odds of
finding her alive are dwindling. Or dead, for that matter,” she added.
“Is there still an active search?”
“It grows less active by the day. We’ve checked every square meter of the surrounding woods. There’s no body.”
“Perhaps you should be looking for a grave instead.”
“It’s not so easy to dig a hole in the soil of Ibiza, Senor Allon. Not if one is in a hurry. It’s far more likely that they
disposed of the body at sea.”
“Which would explain the sandal you found.”
“It might.”
Gabriel gathered up the photos. “I’d like to see the ravine where you found the car. And we should probably have a look at
the villa as well.”
“It will be getting dark soon. I’ll take you in the morning.”
“Not tomorrow,” said Gabriel. “Now, please.”
“If it were anyone but you,” said the detective, and rose reluctantly to her feet.