Catfish Alley : A thrilling fast paced action filled crime caper . by T.M. Stretton

Author:T.M. Stretton [Stretton , T.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SpellBound Books
Published: 2023-06-26T16:00:00+00:00

My resolution lasts for as long as it takes me to check prices—how much!—and I decide this isn’t a decision to make on the spur of the moment. Hannah told me I had a week to come back to her, so I can string her along for seven days at least, maybe a bit more. Kilmarnock will fall into the pit of hell at some point, but probably not over the next week. It’ll still be there if I need it.

5

I haven’t seen Ignacio since we quarrelled in March, and I’ve not got much to thank him for. He’s the one who introduced me to Carmen and Hannah and look how they turned out. But I don’t like to think of him lying half-dead in the hospital. I’ve no reason to believe what Rosell’s told me about his condition, though, and all in all it might be a good idea to pay him a visit. I don’t know how seriously Rosell suspects me, or the weight he’s giving Carmen’s innuendoes, but I know I'm innocent. It can’t do any harm to take him some chocolates (I imagine fags and beer are out, and I can’t see him eating grapes).

Before I can talk myself out of it, I hop on the metro. I know where the hospital is because it’s literally across the road from Broadway. I stop off at the Bonpreu supermarket to pick up a gift, ending up with a box of Ferrero Rocher, the universal choice for when you don’t really know what to get someone, and make my way up to the hospital.

The foyer is clean and impersonal, and this extends to the receptionists too.

“You are the family of Senyor Fuentes?”

So he’s here, at least, and I’d already anticipated the question.

“Yes. I’m his cousin.”

The receptionist—a badge on her blouse says María Teresa—peers at me suspiciously over her half-moon glasses.

“You are English.”

“Actually I’m—yes, I’m English. My mother is his aunt.”

They can’t possibly check this, surely.

María Teresa ponders for a moment, then nods. “Take that lift, two floors, left, Santa Cruz Ward.”

That was easy enough. I thank her and take the lift. The new corridor has no windows, and fluorescent lights create an endless artificial day. My trainers squeak on the tiled floor as I walk towards the ward reception, and I go through the cousin routine again, this time with “Pepe”.

“Senyor Fuentes is not able to have visitors. He is sedated.”

“Can someone tell me how he is?”

“One moment,” says Pepe, picking up her phone and pushing a button. “You wait over there, please?” She indicated a bank of empty plastic seats.

A minute later a figure in a navy-blue Mossos uniform appears. No name-badge here. It should have occurred to me that Ignacio would have a police guard. “Senyor Chisholm?”

I stand up so at least we’re on a level. “That’s right.”

“The cousin of Senyor Fuentes?”

Hmmm. Let’s not get into the habit of lying to the cops.

“More of a friend, actually. But I’m sure he’d like to see me.”

“You know he was attacked, yes? Very sick.

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