Candida Ashley-Morton was there. Her face was white. She was very scared. And then she turned and walked back into the hotel.
We know that we couldn’t sleep. We didn’t know what to do. But the hotel manager was a nice person. He opened the bar- at half past five in the morning. We sat there. We were all asking the same questions. What happened? How did Frank die? Did he fall from his room?
We heard another police car. A man came into the bar. We stopped talking. He is Portillo, Inspector Portillo from the Barcelona police. He said that We’ll talk tomorrow and go to bed in this time.
Outside it was getting light. I was lying on my bed, thinking about Frank. I was trying not to see the blood and his eyes, open and dead. I was trying not to, but I couldn’t stop. Someone knocked on my door. I got up and opened it. It was Simon. When I asked him where he was the night before he was evasive, angry and he wasn’t telling me the truth.