by Helena Dixon
Mrs Craven answered his call on the first ring, taking him by surprise. ‘Mrs Craven? We met at the Dolphin Hotel the other day. Mrs Treadwell employed me—’
She interrupted him before he could get any further. ‘There is no need for you to beat about the bushes, Captain Bryant, I remember perfectly well who you are. What can I do for you?’
Matt blinked and continued. ‘I wondered if I might call on you and ask you a few questions. There have been some very strange things happening here at the hotel and I’m concerned for Kitty’s safety.’
He thought he heard Mrs Craven snort. ‘You may call today at four o’clock, although I doubt if I shall have anything to say which might be useful to you. Please ring the bell as it is my maid’s afternoon off.’
‘If you do think of something, anything at all concerning Kitty or her mother, it would help.’ Matt could see why Kitty didn’t care for the woman.
‘I very much doubt if I can add much of use and I’m sure most of the town could tell you about Kitty’s mother,’ the elderly woman remarked in a dry tone. ‘But I shall do my best.’
‘Nice piece of work,’ Matt muttered as Mrs Craven hung up, the decisive click of the receiver going down seeming to echo on the line.
He glanced at the time on his wristwatch. He had less than two hours before he was due at Mrs Craven’s home. Not much time.
Kitty looked up from her desk when he entered her office a little later in the afternoon.
‘How did you get on when you called Mrs Craven?’ she asked.
‘I’m on my way to go and see her now. Do you have her address?’
Kitty scribbled it down on a piece of paper and passed it to him. ‘Do you think she knows anything that could help?’
Matt shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, but it’s worth a try.’
‘I suppose so.’ Uncertainty showed in Kitty’s eyes as she attempted a smile.
‘I did a little bit of digging around earlier this afternoon. When I get back, can we meet? There are a few things I found that I’m not sure about.’ There were a lot of things he wasn’t certain about. Every lead he followed up seemed to throw up more questions than it answered.
Kitty nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll be in the hotel, just give me a call.’
The shadows under her eyes had grown darker during the afternoon and Matt wished he could take her away from the Dolphin and place her somewhere safe until the mystery had been solved. The impulse surprised him.
‘I’ll see you later.’ He headed out of the hotel to take the short walk through the town and up the hill to where Mrs Craven lived in one of the new houses that commanded a view of the river valley.
He wished he could shake off the feeling of unease that seemed to grow with every step he took closer to Mrs Craven’s home – the same sense of unease he used to feel in the war zone right before something bad would happen and the same sense he’d had the night his wife and child had died.
Chapter Six
The street was empty and seemingly devoid of life. The breeze which usually cooled the air down by the waterside was absent here, up on the hill. Mrs Craven’s house was at the end of a street filled with large, middle-class houses, imposing in their isolated air of self-importance. The windows surveyed him blankly through diamond leaded panes as he reached the foot of the drive. Matching stone tubs sat either side of the dark oak front door, scarlet tulips standing to attention, guarding the entrance.
Matt sucked in a breath and straightened his shoulders before raising the polished brass door knocker. There was something about Mrs Craven that reminded him of being called to the headmistress’s office when he’d been at primary school.
The staccato rat-a-tat-tat of the door knocker broke the eerie silence in the deserted street. Matt checked his wristwatch; he was two minutes early. The door remained resolutely closed. The prickly sense of unease that had dogged him all the way to the house intensified. Mrs Craven was not the kind of woman who would break an appointment.
He stepped back from the iron-studded front door. There were no signs of life from inside. A gate set in a wooden fence stood at the side of the house, which he guessed gave entry to the back garden. A quick glance up and down the street revealed no trace of anyone watching him. Moving swiftly, he headed for the gate.
He expected to find it locked, but to his surprise the wrought-iron handle turned easily in his grasp. The prickling sense of danger at the nape of his neck intensified as he pushed the gate open a little way.
‘Mrs Craven?’
There was no reply.
Tentatively, he pushed the gate open wider, granting him a view of the neatly kept rear garden. A blackbird chirped from a nearby flowering cherry tree, breaking the silence. At first glance, everything appeared in order: the lawn was a lush, pristine emerald green, mown and clipped to bowling-green standards; wallflowers stood in rows along the flower border.
The only alien object in the peaceful scene was the crumpled mound of blue at the far end of the garden path. Matt sprinted forwards. Mrs Craven lay in a small, still heap on the riven stone flags. Her eyes were closed and her lips pursed as if annoyed to find herself in such a position. A sticky puddle of blood oozed from her temple, staining the grey stone and emerald turf dark red. A trowel lay discarded in the flower bed next to her gloved hand, along with a collection of mare’s tail weeds.
Matt dropped to his knees and felt the elderly woman’s neck for a pulse. To his relief, there was a faint fluttering beneath his fingers. He scanned the garden quickly for any clue as to what had taken place. There was no sign of a weapon, no footprints or anything out of place. Her rings were still on her fingers and a gold watch on her wrist. Robbery wasn’t the motive.
The ambulance arrived at the same time as the police. Matt gave what details he could to both services as the ambulance staff prepared to take Mrs Craven to the local cottage hospital. Whilst answering the policeman’s questions, his mind whirred. Had the old woman simply had some kind of fit, or fainted, causing her to bang her head on the path when she’d fallen? The timing was suspicious, and Mrs Craven was not the kind of person who would faint easily. When or if she regained consciousness, he might get some information but for now another lead had been halted, and another layer added to the mystery surrounding the Dolphin Hotel.
He accompanied the police and ambulance crew back round to the front of the house. A small knot of bystanders had formed at the end of the driveway and were gazing with avid curiosity at the ambulance. Matt stayed behind and tagged along nonchalantly behind the police officer as Mrs Craven was driven away. He would have liked to have questioned the onlookers to discover if any of them had seen or heard anything out of the ordinary that afternoon. Instead, he had to be content with trying to overhear anything useful from the questions the policeman was asking.
He loitered for as long as possible, slipping in a few questions of his own in between answering the concerned enquiries of Mrs Craven’s neighbours and their staff. It appeared that no one had seen or heard anything, including the lady whose telephone he’d used to alert the authorities.
Kitty was at the front reception desk when he returned to the hotel. She looked up as he entered the lobby, an eager expression in her eyes.
‘What did you find out?’ she murmured as soon as he was in earshot.
Matt glanced around the lobby. A family with two young children were having afternoon tea in the corner seats and an elderly couple were browsing the tourist brochures in the rack by the elevator.
‘We need to talk, but not here.’ He kept his voice low as he leaned against the polished dark oak counter. The sooner she knew what had happened, the better.
Her forehead creased into a frown as she slid a small key across the countertop towards him. ‘Meet me in Grams’ salon, two minutes.’
When Kitty arrived upstairs at her Grams’ quarters, she found Matt standing at the window, staring out at the view of the river. ‘One of the girls has taken over from me downsta
irs a while. Now, tell me how you got on this afternoon.’
He turned to face her. ‘Mrs Craven wasn’t able to tell me anything.’
Kitty stared at him. ‘You could have told me that in the lobby.’ She folded her arms and tilted her chin upwards to glare at him.
‘She couldn’t tell me anything because when I got there, she was lying unconscious in the garden.’
Her knees turned to cotton wool and she sank down onto the plush sofa. ‘I don’t understand.’
Matt crossed the room to take the seat next to her. Kitty could barely take in the information as he told her about what he’d found on his visit to Mrs Craven’s home.
‘Will she be all right? I mean, I don’t like the woman, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.’ Her mind raced and the cup of tea she’d drunk earlier threatened to reappear. It would be too much of a coincidence for something to happen to Mrs Craven just as she was about to speak to Matt. If it wasn’t an accident however, then someone had taken care that it shouldn’t appear suspicious. She tried to suppress a shiver when she recalled her own near-miss with the truck.
‘I don’t know, she’s an elderly lady, even if she does appear to be as tough as old boots.’ Matt raked his hand through his hair.
‘It could just have been an accident though, couldn’t it?’ She knew she was grasping at straws. Her gut instinct told her loudly and clearly that someone had wanted to stop Mrs Craven from talking. But who and why? And how had they known that Matt was going to see her today? The elderly woman had lived in the area all her life – what could she have possibly had to say now that she couldn’t have said at any time in the past?
‘Maybe if and when she comes around we’ll find out what happened. Truthfully though, I don’t think either of us believes she accidentally fell and banged her head.’ His gaze locked with hers and a chill ran down her spine.
‘You think the incident with the truck was deliberate too, don’t you?’ There, she’d said it.
The look in his eyes supplied her answer.
‘Did you find anything else out this afternoon?’ Her voice sounded scratchy and she coughed to try and restore it back to normal.
‘I did some poking around the hotel and called in some favours from some friends to try and find out a bit more about your mysterious Mr Smith.’
‘He’s not my Mr Smith, and I hate feeling that I’m suspicious about a guest who is probably a perfectly innocent holidaymaker.’
Matt sighed. ‘The problem seems to be that he isn’t anyone’s Mr Smith. Mr Smith does not exist.’
Kitty frowned, not understanding quite what Matt meant. ‘Of course he exists, we have an address for him and everything in the register.’
Matt shook his head. ‘I made some calls this afternoon. The address is real, but Mr Smith doesn’t live there. No one does. The house has been derelict and boarded up for the last ten years.’
She felt her jaw drop and closed her mouth with a snap. ‘That’s impossible.’
Matt shrugged. ‘We don’t know of course if it’s connected to the anonymous notes or to Mrs Craven’s fall.’
‘It has to be. Why else would someone come here with a fake address?’ She slumped back on the sofa. She felt more uncomfortable than ever now, knowing one of her guests had set out to deliberately deceive the hotel.
‘It may be that he has other reasons for wanting to conceal his identity that aren’t connected to what’s been going on, but whatever his reasons, it’s definitely suspicious.’
‘I don’t think I’m going to sleep tonight with him staying here and knowing he isn’t who he says he is.’ She worried at her lower lip with her teeth as she thought about it.
‘At least he doesn’t know we’re on to him and we can keep a watch on his activities. Is he out at the moment?’
‘Yes, he handed in his room key to the desk just before you got back.’
‘Great, come on then.’ Matt reached out his hand and tugged her to her feet. ‘Let’s go and search his room.’
She snatched her hand free. ‘We can’t do that. It wouldn’t be ethical.’
Matt grinned at her, the dimple in his cheek deepening. ‘And you think it’s all right for this man to register under a false name and address and to possibly be a suspect for conking a defenceless old lady over the head? Suppose he does a runner without paying the bill? Or steals all your towels?’
Kitty glared at him. She knew he was right but the idea of searching a guest’s room didn’t sit well with her. ‘Fine, you win. What do we do if he comes back while we’re in there, though?’
‘You’re the boss, you’ll think of something.’
She could hear Matt humming to himself as he followed her along the winding corridor at the rear of the hotel leading to Mr Smith’s room.
‘Will you stop that! You sound like a badly tuned bumble bee.’ She pulled the bunch of master keys from her jacket pocket and unlocked the door.
‘Our friend is right at the end of the corridor here,’ Matt observed, looking around.
‘I think he asked for this room. Something about being a poor sleeper and needing a quiet room. This room has a private bathroom too.’ Kitty had forgotten that request until Matt had commented. This part of the floor was very quiet, and the rooms were cheaper as the only view from the window was of the small rear garden which backed onto the foot of the sandstone escarpment which started at that end of the hotel.
‘Hmm,’ Matt pushed past her and into the room.
Kitty rubbed at her arms, trying to eliminate the goosebumps that had started up the instant she’d opened the door. Everything looked neat and tidy, the double bed turned down, no clutter on the polished rosewood nightstand. She glanced out of the sash window at the empty garden and the small wooden gate set into the cliff. It closed off the entrance to an old passageway that was rumoured to have been used to avoid the customs men back in the seventeenth century.
Matt was busy, systematically searching carefully through the contents of her guest’s drawers, giving her a running commentary as he searched. ‘Underwear, navy socks, some er, pictures, ugh, nothing in this one.’ He moved to the bedside cabinet, checking the folder containing the hotels complimentary stationary. ‘Oh, what’s this?’
To Kitty it looked like a blank piece of paper. Matt folded it carefully and tucked it in his pocket. ‘Just going to check the bathroom.’
‘Hurry up, you’re making me nervous,’ Kitty hissed and checked the corridor once more.
‘Keep your hair on. You own the place, remember, you have a right to be here.’
Chapter Seven
Kitty glanced back along the corridor towards the elevator. The metal master keys were sweaty in her palm. Inside the room she could hear Matt clanging around in the bathroom. ‘Matt, get a move on.’
‘Just checking on something.’
More scraping and bumping sounds followed. Kitty’s heart was beating so hard she thought she might be about to have a panic attack.
‘Ha!’ Matt’s triumphant exclamation diverted her attention.
‘What?’
‘Hang on, I’m coming out.’ Matt appeared at her side; a boyishly triumphant grin plastered across his face. ‘Let’s go.’ He set off along the corridor. Kitty stifled a frustrated shriek as she locked the room door and hurried after him.
She caught him up at the elevator. ‘Well, what did you find?’
The elevator door chimed, and he pulled open the metal gate and stepped inside. ‘Wait and see.’ He tapped the side of his nose, closed the gate and pressed the button to take them down to the first floor.
To add to her annoyance, he recommenced the tuneless humming that had driven her crazy in the corridor. Kitty was torn between wanting to deliver a sharp dig with her elbow to his ribs, and not giving any sign that he was getting to her. She opted for the second option, folding her arms and pretending she couldn’t see or hear him until they were inside her grandmother’s suite.
As so
on as the door closed, Kitty pounced. ‘Okay, Inspector, what did you find?’
Matt took a seat at the bureau and waited for her to unlock the lid, his solid frame strangely incongruous in the dainty gilt chair that her grandmother used each day when dealing with her correspondence. ‘I need a pencil.’ He took out the sheet of paper he’d acquired in Mr Smith’s room and started hunting in the pen tray.
Exasperated, Kitty smacked his fingers away before selecting a pencil and handing it to him. ‘For the last time, Matt, what did you find out?’
‘Let’s just see what’s written on this first and then I’ll tell you.’ Matt quickly and carefully shaded over the sheet of headed paper, revealing the indented message that had been pressed in from the missing top sheet. ‘Good thing our man is heavy-handed.’
Kitty peered over his shoulder to read. ‘“Check out lower ferry dock”.’
‘Looks like he was giving someone some instructions.’
‘That’s not very surprising if he is a commercial traveller. He might be expecting some samples or something.’ Except that was where the body of the Dutch man had been found, floating in the water.
‘I also found several other very interesting items hidden in his bathroom. They were wrapped in oilskin and tucked inside the toilet cistern. I think you’ll agree that isn’t very innocent behaviour.’
‘I don’t understand, what did you find?’ She felt sick.
‘That our Mr Smith is also known as Mr Delguardo, Mr Avery and Mr Jones.’
Realisation dawned. ‘Fake passports?’
Matt nodded. ‘Along with a large amount of bank notes.’
‘We need to report this to the police. Matt, this is bad.’ She sank down onto the sofa and pressed her hands into her lap in a bid to stop them from shaking. ‘It’s like something from the cinema. Suppose he had something to do with that man who was killed?’