A Shortcut to Paradise by Teresa Solana Page B

copies…”
    I felt slightly guilty for harbouring evil thoughts, muttered an apology and asked him to go on unravelling what I assumed would be an entangled yarn. I promised not to interrupt him again.
    â€œIt turns out,” he took a deep breath, “that after dinner and the usual thanksgiving speeches, the usual blather, people started to leave. However, as usually happens on these occasions, a small group headed by Marina went down to the bar in the basement of the Ritz to prolong the party. In fact, there were about forty of us at the start, including Mariona and me. She wanted to show
off the Versace she’d bought in New York, naturally enough…”
    Mariona Castany is a very wealthy friend of my brother, who treats her as if she were an auntie. As she’s bored, she’s decided to write her memoirs and hobnob in literary circles. She’s around sixty-five, a widow and a wily old weasel. She lives alone, with her domestic staff, in one of the very few Modernist mansions still standing on Bonanova. From time to time, when her long-standing lover is otherwise engaged, Borja keeps her company.
    â€œAs you can imagine,” he continued, “the plonk kept flowing and we were all rather the worse for wear. But, of course, Marina had lots of commitments the day after, press interviews and so on, and announced she would be going to bed just before two. She was staying at the Ritz. Apparently she always stayed there when she came down to Barcelona.”
    â€œVery sensible too.”
    â€œLots of people had gone by that time and there were about twenty of us still at the bar: the publisher and his wife, a few friends, a few critics, a close friend of Marina’s in a tight-fitting flowery dress that looked like a curtain…”
    â€œGet to the point, Borja.”
    â€œSo we said goodnight to Marina and Mariona insisted on ordering another round.” Borja sighed yet again.
    â€œLife’s hard, right?”
    â€œThe fact is,” he continued, ignoring my sarcasm. “I’d been introduced to a stinking-rich, rather dumb dentist and was trying to persuade him we could do good business together. You know the kind of thing, investments using black money… His wife wasn’t so sure and I set about giving her the hard sell. Then, at about half-past two, the woman in the flowery dress noticed Marina had lost an earring. She’d found it on the floor, under a chair, and, as it was a diamond-andpearl affair worth a fortune, she offered to take it up to her room.”
    â€œHow very considerate of her. But it’s odd Marina hadn’t noticed.”
    â€œI suppose she didn’t have time, maybe the murderer bumped her off the moment she got back to her room,” he speculated. “Whatever. Two minutes later this woman, who went by the name of Josefina something or other, rushed back to the bar in a highly agitated state. She couldn’t stop crying. She was so distraught she couldn’t get a word out. We finally calmed her down slightly and she told us why she was so upset. Get this: she had just discovered her friend prostrate on the floor in her bedroom, in a pool of blood, her head all smashed up.”
    â€œFucking hell! These writers don’t do things by halves!”
    â€œToo true. Just imagine. The party was suddenly over. Josefina couldn’t stop shaking and crying… Nobody had a clue about what had happened. People were talking about robbery and revenge… Anyway, the police had been informed and Mariona wanted to stay. I suppose she’d decided to include the episode in her memoirs…” he paused and looked at me askance. “The minutes were ticking by and I was worried in case the police decided to question us and asked for my ID card.”
    â€œQuite,” I commented sarcastically.
    â€œIt was no joke.”
    â€œI know,” I said even more sarcastically.

    â€œIn the end,” Borja