The Reina was a two-star hotel near the heart of Marbella’s Old Town. Its rooms were small, its amenities limited, and the air conditioning barely worked. Jay considered it a vast improvement over the Serenidad—especially since the television in their room was an old-fashioned CRT model and dumb as a brick.
Following another appointment at Dr. Schwinghammer’s clinic, Jay’s drains were gone. The now-bandaged incisions under his arms still itched.
They left the hotel just before noon. According to Jay’s phone, it was a fifteen minute walk to the nearest public beach. With Moran in tow, it was closer to twenty; he was in no hurry to get anywhere, and Jay was content to match his pace.
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