I didn’t allow that to show on my face; when I approached the steps, I straightened my back and sauntered up them as if I belonged there. It didn’t do me any good. Before I could get within touching distance of the door, I was stopped by the bellman.
Max and his grumpy colleague were well-dressed, but this guy was on another level. I swear I could see my reflection in the gold buttons adorning his long coat. ‘Good evening, ma’am,’ he said, doffing his hat. He didn’t drop his gaze to my crossbow, but I knew he’d clocked it. ‘Are you residing in the hotel?’
Obviously not. I was still dressed in the death garments Laura had given to me, and I definitely didn’t look like I could afford to stay there. I doubted that all the money in my bank account would pay for a cup of tea here.
I flashed him a tight, professional smile. ‘I’m here on police business. I’d like to speak to the hotel manager as soon as possible.’
The bellman didn’t miss a beat and his expression didn’t alter. Man, this guy was good. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘No, but it’s a matter of extreme urgency.’
His training had clearly prepared him for every challenge. The last thing the hotel wanted was an armed woman hanging around the opulent lobby, but neither did they want to antagonise the police. They knew their business – and so did the bellman.
‘Please take the side entrance.’ He gave me brief directions. ‘I’ll ensure that someone meets you there.’ He turned away to greet the next guests in exactly the same manner he’d spoken to me, despite their considerably more expensive clothes and their high-born demeanour. I was impressed.
I murmured my thanks, although I wasn’t sure he heard me, and walked round to the trade entrance. It suited me; now that I was within the relative safety of the hotel, the fewer curious eyes I encountered the better.
I’d just gone inside when a woman wearing a neat suit approached me. Her name tag proclaimed her as one of the assistant managers. I gave her a perfunctory smile and she returned the favour. ‘My name is Wilma Kennard,’ she said. ‘May I see some identification, please?’
I pulled out my trainee’s warrant card and passed it over, aware that this was where things might get dicey. ‘I’m with Supe Squad,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m not yet properly qualified as a detective, but I am a certified member of the Metropolitan police force. My mentor, Detective Constable Brown, has gone missing and his trail leads here. I need to locate him before his disappearance creates a bigger incident.’
Wilma Kennard winced. If there was one thing worse than having a crossbow-bearing police officer wandering through your hotel and scaring your guests, it was having an entire troop of police officers searching your hallways for a missing colleague. Trainee or not, she wanted to deal with me with the least amount of possible fuss; if that meant giving me access, that was what she was prepared to do.
She passed my warrant card back to me. ‘Follow me, Miss Bellamy.’
We tracked through the narrow staff corridor to a small office not far from the door marked ‘Lobby’. Kennard motioned me to a chair, sat behind the desk and started to tap at her computer keyboard.
A frown creased her forehead as she scanned the screen. ‘We have an Anthony Brown who checked in last night,’ she told me. ‘He walked in off the street and paid up front for two nights.’
I sucked in a breath. So Tony was here. A wave of relief – followed immediately by a flash of anger – rippled through me. He was holed up in a swanky room ordering room service and enjoying himself.
Kennard tapped a few more keys, the furrow in her brow deepening. ‘He has a Do Not Disturb sign on his door, so his room wasn’t cleaned this morning.’
My stomach muscles tensed again. ‘No one has seen him since last night?’ I leaned forward. ‘Has he ordered any food? Been to the bar? Used the phone?’
Kennard raised her eyes to mine. ‘No, none of that.’
I swallowed. Tony didn’t strike me as the kind of bloke who would empty an expensive minibar; neither was he a man who would skip meals.
‘I have one thing here,’ she said. ‘I doubt it’s helpful. He phoned in a complaint not long after he checked in. He called housekeeping and said that his fridge wasn’t working properly. We offered to check it over and fix it in the morning. He said that he’d manage without it, and that he’d rather not be disturbed.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s all I’ve got.’
‘When did he make that call?’
She frowned at the computer. ‘Just before 1am.’
Tony was as much of a night owl as the vamps. I sucked on my bottom lip and tried to think of where to go next. ‘Do you have any camera footage from when he checked in?’ I asked finally. ‘Or from outside his room?’
‘I can’t show you any of that if you haven’t got a warrant. I’m not being obstructive, it’s merely procedure.’
I cursed inwardly and thought some more. A hotel like this would have a state-of-the-art keycard system that must have electronic records. ‘How about his door?’ I could feel a prickle of urgency between my shoulder blades. ‘Can you tell me when it was opened?’
Kennard shook her head. ‘Again, Miss Bellamy, without a warrant that’s not possible.’ She paused. ‘But if you’re genuinely concerned for his well-being—’
‘I am.’
‘Then I can take you up to his room and we can check on him.’
I immediately stood up. ‘Let’s go.’
If I’d had my way, I’d have sprinted to Tony’s room. At least the assistant manager had a brisk gait; no doubt she was keen to confirm Tony’s presence and get rid of me as quickly as possible.
We took the service lift then marched along the fourth-floor corridor to Tony’s room. There was indeed a Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the doorknob.
I glanced at Wilma and knocked. ‘Tony!’ I called. ‘It’s Emma. Are you in there?’
There was no answer. Kennard took over and rapped on the door. ‘DC Brown? This is Wilma Kennard. I apologise for disturbing you, but we need to confirm that you’re alright.’
Again, no answer. Kennard waited for a few seconds then reached into her suit pocket, took out a keycard and unlocked the door. She nudged it open slightly and called again, ‘Hello? DC Brown?’
I’d had enough. I pushed past her and walked inside, noting the sour smell in the air. The television in the corner was turned on but the sound was muted. The bed was rumpled, although it looked like it hadn’t been slept in. An open magazine lay on one of the small bedside tables next to several opened miniatures of vodka. I glanced at it and pursed my lips. Unpleasant-looking porn.
I scratched my head while Kennard checked the bathroom. My eyes drifted towards the wardrobe. The door was open, blocking my view. I sidled over and checked inside. A split second later, I desperately wished I hadn’t.
‘Anything?’ Kennard enquired.
I stared at Tony’s naked body hanging inside the wardrobe, a blue tie looped around his neck.
My crossbow fell to the floor.
Chapter Thirteen
‘It happens more often than you’d think,’ Kennard said kindly, pushing a cup of hot, sweetened tea into my hands. ‘It doesn’t get spoken about because I don’t think the authorities want to give people ideas, but we usually get a case of auto-erotic asphyxiation every couple of years. And we’re not alone. Lots of hotels have to deal with this.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I couldn’t get the image of Tony’s corpse out of my head. His glassy, bulging eyes were burned into my own retinas. I wasn’t sure I’d ever forget what I’d seen.
‘We’ll keep his room sealed until the police get here.’ She coughed. ‘I mean, I know you’re already here and you’re with the police, but…’
‘I know what you mean,’ I said distantly.
I had the impression that Kennard was relieved that Tony’s passing hadn’t been more bloody and that nobody else was involved. It made things easier for both her and the hotel. Despite Tony’s rank and profession, the fact that he’d done this to himself meant the ensuing investigation would be minimal. Once the police had made their initial examination of the scene and Tony’s body was removed, the coroner’s assessment would no doubt edge towards death by misadventure. Nobody would want to advertise the fact that a Metropolitan police detective had died by strangling himself in some bizarre sexual game, even if that detective had been hidden away in Supe Squad.
I lowered my cup. It was the ideal way to kill someone if you wanted to make sure that nobody looked into their death too closely. If two police officers in the same department both had their throats slit on the same night in different locations, all hell would break loose and the fallout would be unprecedented – especially given what had happened to Tony’s flat.
I sprang to my feet. ‘You wouldn’t show me the CCTV or the room records before. Surely you can now.’
Kennard looked vaguely alarmed. ‘We should wait for—’
I hardened my voice. ‘Show me.’
She muttered something under her breath, then her jawline tightened. ‘Very well.’
She brought up the files on her computer screen and swung it round it to me. ‘The front desk has already isolated the footage of his entry into the hotel.’ She clicked on an icon. ‘Here.’
We watched as Tony strolled through the hotel lobby to the front desk. He was wearing the same clothes he’d been in earlier that day. There was a brief exchange of words as he passed over his credit card and received the room key card. He sauntered over to the lifts, his body language displaying no hint of what was to come.
‘The security system is computerised,’ Kennard told me. ‘He entered his room at 12.32am last night. His door hasn’t been opened since, we’re certain of that.’