Chapter 61
Rosie and Ernesto, arm in arm, approach the reception desk at The Hunter’s Rest.
The young receptionist, her name tag suggesting she is called Tiggy, looks up at Rosie. ‘Oh, it’s you!’
‘It’s me,’ agrees Rosie. Does this Tiggy recognize her as Rosie D’Antonio, or as ‘Steve’s friend’, or even, the Lord forbid, ‘the lady who works with Tony Taylor’s girlfriend’?
‘You’re the lady who had lunch here today?’ says Tiggy. ‘I recognize your shoes.’
‘Yes,’ says Rosie. Elspeth is right. No one young has the first clue who she is. Perhaps she has finally run out of road?
‘I’m afraid your friend left without paying,’ says Tiggy. ‘And she drank a lot of wine.’
‘Of course she did,’ says Rosie. ‘And she’s not my “friend”, she’s my manager.’
Elspeth won’t be Rosie’s manager for much longer. Though will anyone else want to take her on without a book deal? When the only thing extraordinary about her is her shoes?
‘My manager’s the same,’ says Tiggy. ‘He always puts me on extra shifts when he’s sleeping off a hangover in one of the guest suites. How can I help you?’
‘A friend of ours is staying here,’ says Rosie. ‘We wanted to leave a surprise in his room.’
‘I remember my manager leaving a surprise in the room on one of those hangover days,’ says Tiggy. ‘We had to pay the cleaners double. What’s your friend’s name?’
‘Hard to say,’ says Rosie. ‘He won’t be travelling under his own name. He’s … a film star.’
‘Blond hair,’ says Ernesto. ‘Eagle tattoo on his neck.’
‘Ooh, you’re Spanish,’ says Tiggy.
‘It is my pleasure to confirm,’ says Ernesto. ‘Have you seen him perhaps?’
Tiggy gives a little shrug. ‘I’d have remembered an eagle tattoo. I spot things. We had a woman with very big earrings, but that doesn’t help you, does it?’
‘Perhaps we could scan through a few names?’ says Rosie. ‘See if one of them jumps out?’
‘Can’t do that,’ says Tiggy. ‘Data protection. You understand?’
‘I do understand, I do,’ says Rosie. ‘I wonder if I might have a counterproposal for you?’
Rosie dips into her handbag and pulls out a thick money clip, stuffed with twenties. Looking over her shoulder, she slides the money clip to Tiggy.
‘Might this help?’
Tiggy looks at the money, then at Rosie.
‘There’s five hundred there,’ says Rosie.
Tiggy nods and takes the money. ‘That’ll do nicely.’
‘So if we could just …’ says Ernesto, nodding towards the computer.
‘Data protection,’ says Tiggy. ‘Sorry, I just went through this with the lady with the shoes. I don’t know the Spanish for “Data Protection”.’
‘But you took the money,’ says Ernesto.
‘To cover your friend’s lunch,’ says Tiggy. ‘Sorry, is there anything else? I’ll keep an eye out for the man with the eagle tattoo.’
Ernesto looks at her. ‘Is a bribe. The money.’
‘A bribe?’ says Tiggy.
An older man emerges from the office behind reception. His name tag says GAWAIN – MANAGER.
‘I’m sorry, is there anything I can help with here?’
Tiggy looks at her manager. ‘This couple just offered me a bribe to take a look at the names of all our guests.’
‘A bribe?’ says Gawain. ‘Tiggy, go on your break, let me deal with this.’
‘Do you want me to call the police?’
‘In time,’ says Gawain. ‘In time.’
Tiggy disappears into the back office. Gawain puts the money clip into his jacket pocket and ushers Rosie and Ernesto around to the reception computer. God bless the bribable.
‘We just want to leave a surprise in someone’s room,’ says Rosie. ‘Nothing more than that.’
Gawain shrugs and pats his pocket. He opens a window on the computer and Rosie scans the list of guests.
‘What should we look for?’ she asks Ernesto.
‘Often aliases are showy,’ says Ernesto. ‘Makes them easier to remember.’
Rosie scrolls down the list, but nothing stands out. There’s an Ezekiel. Is that showy? There’s an Adam. The first man?
Ernesto jabs his finger at the screen. ‘Stop!’
Rosie stops scrolling, but can’t see what she’s missed.
‘It’s not the hitman,’ says Ernesto. ‘But see?’
He points to a name.
ERIC JACOBS
‘Eric Jacobs?’ says Rosie. ‘You’re thinking?’
‘Jakob Eriksson,’ says Ernesto. ‘Keeping an eye on things as always.’
‘Jakob Eriksson’s even got an alias for his alias,’ says Rosie. ‘Room 413.’
Ernesto shakes Gawain’s hand. ‘Thank you. You are a terrible manager, but you really helped us out.’
‘You might want a key?’ says Gawain.
‘I’ve got no more money,’ says Rosie.
‘No need,’ says Gawain, handing her a key card. ‘I’m a big fan. Read all your books.’
Rosie takes the card. ‘Well, that’s lovely to hear, Gawain. How do you like the new one?’
‘New one?’ says Gawain. ‘You’re still writing?’
Ernesto leads Rosie away before she can reply. They head up the oak-panelled staircase.
‘You really think it’s him?’ Rosie asks. ‘You really think it’s Connor Brooks?’
‘Every time someone is killed, he’s there,’ says Ernesto. ‘Looking over their shoulder. He sent the dead blond gentleman to kill Vern Blackwood, so he’s here. Finger never on the trigger, but always nearby.’
A sign reads ROOMS 408–415 and Ernesto puts his finger to his lips as they make their way along a hideously carpeted hallway, towards the room supposedly occupied by an ‘Eric Jacobs’.
There are even more paintings of horses. Rosie is relieved when she finally sees a painting of a bowl of fruit.
They reach room 413. Ernesto takes out his gun and raps on the door.
‘Housekeeping.’
No answer. Ernesto raps again.
‘Housekeeping.’
No answer.
Ernesto stands back from the door, pistol raised, and nods to Rosie to open it.
There is a noise to their right. An elderly couple, back from a stroll.
Ernesto puts the pistol behind his back, and Rosie leans against the wall.
The elderly couple walk very, very slowly, and Ernesto holds a big smile for them the whole way.
As they pass, the man says, ‘Standing in the corridor, is it?’
‘Yes,’ says Ernesto, quietly. ‘I’m Spanish.’
The man and the woman both nod, as if a mystery has been solved. They reach their room, two doors down, and, after some fumbling with their key card, go inside.
The instant their door shuts, Ernesto raises his pistol again.
Rosie holds the key card to the sensor. The lights blink green and she swings the door inwards. Ernesto rushes in, gun raised, and she follows.
The room is empty. A curtain billows from an open window, and Rosie rushes over to see a bald man navigating the fire escape as quick as his old legs will carry him. Connor Brooks in the flesh at last.
‘He’s on the fire escape,’ she shouts to Ernesto. ‘You’ve got a clear shot!’
Ernesto runs over and sees Brooks too. He points his gun, but shakes his head. Brooks disappears from view into a portico running along the back of the hotel.
‘Come!’ he says to Rosie, as he starts to climb out of the window. Rosie follows. Why not take a shot? It would have been noisy, but Ernesto is a police officer, and Connor Brooks is a wanted man?
Ernesto is running down the fire escape now, and Rosie can’t keep up. Heels and fire escapes. She sees Ernesto disappear under the portico.
Connor Brooks didn’t look too steady on his feet. Rosie knows that feeling well. Ernesto will have factored that in. Will have been sure he could catch the man without need for gunfire.
Rosie reaches the bottom of the fire escape and ducks under the portico. She sees Ernesto looking around him. He’s lost Brooks.
Rosie catches up to him. From the bottom of the fire escape, Brooks could have headed right into the trees, or left into a maze.
In one of her books he would have headed straight for the maze, and a good two or three chapters of cat-and-mouse could be written. But Connor Brooks is a real human being.
‘The trees,’ says Rosie, and they start to run.
‘Wrong again,’ says a voice to their left.
Rosie turns, and sees the beautiful sight of Steve leading Connor Brooks out of the maze.
‘We got him,’ says Steve. ‘We finally got him.’