Chapter 86 Sophie
S OPHIE
Sophie and Penelope lock eyes at the sound of a woman screaming for help. Sophie lets the tea towel in her hands drop to the floor as she runs out of the kitchen.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
She takes the stairs as fast as she can with Penelope hot on her heels. Two guests stand unmoving in the hallway opposite the Dawsons’ suite.
From the doorway, Sophie sees Mrs Dawson trying to fight off Christian, who’s on the floor, straddling Mr Dawson.
‘Tell me where she is,’ Christian says over and over in a voice as monotone as an automated message. His hands are tight around the old man’s throat.
Mr Dawson’s blue in the face. He makes a strangled noise and shakes his head from side to side.
‘Get off him!’ Sophie screams. She tries to wrench Christian’s fingers off Mr Dawson’s neck. Penelope and Mrs Dawson are pulling at him as well, but Christian’s somehow manifested into the Incredible fucking Hulk and maintains his iron grip, outpowering them all. He’s repeating ‘Tell me where she is’ like he’s in some kind of trance.
Mr Dawson thrashes around; his eyes are bulging.
Sophie looks for a weapon. The lamp! She pulls it off the bedside table but its cord is stuck in the wall socket behind the bed. She yanks hard but it doesn’t budge. Fuck.
‘He’s dying! Look at him, he’s dying!’ Mrs Dawson screams.
Mr Dawson’s just about passed out. Christian still hasn’t let go of his throat. More unhelpful people have appeared in the doorway to stare.
‘Call the police, for Christ’s sake!’ Sophie yells at them.
One of them does.
The silver blade of a letter opener on top of the chest of drawers catches Sophie’s eye. She lunges for it and is about to bring it down onto Christian when it’s forcefully ripped from her hand by her mother. Penelope plunges the letter opener deep into Christian’s neck. He jerks his head up, a look of confusion crossing his face, and then he lets go of Mr Dawson and crumples beside him on the floor.
Sophie stands over Christian as he stares up at her, his hand reaching towards the blade lodged in his neck. Blood oozes onto the carpet in a thick red trail. She watches as he gurgles, and then he lets out a long low noise and his eyes glaze over. He’s looking right at her when he dies.
‘Oh, Jesus! Oh, God!’ Penelope cries. ‘He’s dead. He’s dead, isn’t he? Oh my God!’
Sophie doesn’t answer her mother. She doesn’t even look at her.
‘He’s breathing! He’s still breathing!’ Mrs Dawson cries, cradling Mr Dawson’s head in her arms.
‘I’ll call the police,’ Sophie says. Calmly she steps over Christian’s body and past the onlookers in the hallway, then just as calmly takes the stairs down to reception to make the call.
‘Qual è l’emergenza?’ the male operator says.
‘I’m reporting a death at Hotel Il Cuore,’ Sophie replies.