The knife in the room

I'd arrived back after Mass with my warm bottle of water and a warm tin of coke and was feeling a little jaded. I decided to pack, ready for the off in the morning. It was almost 22:00 by now. I noticed something on the floor by the side of the table.

A knife.

I was a little surprised. By now I'd picked it up, taken the sheath off it. Tried the blade for sharpness. In fact I'd spread my finger prints all over it.

What to do with it? I toyed with going down to reception with it and explaining I'd found it in my room. Was my Spanish up to that? Probably not. The lady on reception had been fairly unwelcoming from the begining. I couldn't see her demeanour lightening if I appeared with a knife. Best not then.

I could leave it in the room and say nothing? Maybe wipe my prints off it. But then again they knew who I was as they'd taken my passport number. Maybe a call to the police would be routine procedure for cleaning staff when they found a knife in a room.
Maybe it was the missing murder weapon the police had been searching for? That wouldn't look too good. I like Spain, but not enough to spend 10years in jail.

Besides, I'd already been acquainted with the police earlier in the day when I'd flagged a patrol car down to get some assistance for an aged hombre who'd collapsed outside the church. I left once the ambulance had arrived and thought no more about it. What if things hadn't turned out too well for him. Here I am surfacing again with a knife.

I was starting to panic now.

I could throw it away in the morning.

That sounded the best option. A quiet bin in the countryside. No questions asked. As long as no one saw me.

But there are CCTV cameras are everywhere these days. It could be risky. It'd certainly look suspicious. Why had I disposed of it in a remote location? I'd struggle to find a sensible answer to that question.

Maybe it was the heat of the room but I then thought of another scenario. Perhaps there'd been multiple murders and all the police had was the murder weapon. Frustrated at not being able to close the case they'd hit upon the idea of planting the murder weapon in the room and were going to lift the next person who checked in and frame them. It seemed unlikely. But, however unlikely, if it happened I could be banged to rights. I suppose after a lengthy stretch inside my Spanish would have come on leaps and bounds. But would it Spanish phrases I could use in polite company?

I went to the window and looked out to see if I was being watched from a darkened car. It was difficult to tell as I was 4 floors up.

I managed to get a grip and put the knife into the top of my bag deciding to find a solution in the morning.

After an abysmal night's sleep I'd forgotten about it. Until 6km out of Ponferada a patrol car cruised past on a country road. I gave the two hombres a friendly wave and hoped they weren't thinking of doing any spot checks that day. We saw them twice more after that. They waved back, but nothing else.

I still have the damned thing and I still can't figure out the best plan for separating myself from it.

I thought life would be simple once I'd retired. Obviously notRead more