by Emily Organ
“Hotels compete with one another all the time,” I said. “Surely they are accustomed to it, and there is certainly no call to go around murdering rival owners in cold blood.”
“I agree. I met Mr Marshall a few times and believe that his bark is worse than his bite. Besides, I don’t think he would go to the lengths of ordering Nathaniel’s murder from the other side of the Atlantic. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Is there anyone he might have fallen out with in London?”
“You’re making me feel as though I’m being interviewed by a police officer, Miss Green!” He gave a chuckle. “No one immediately comes to mind. There may be someone out there, and I’m sure the police investigation will uncover whoever that might be.”
I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I was surprised to hear about the lady.”
Mr Somers gave a dismissive wave with his hand. “Nathaniel has always had a weakness for the fairer sex, but I can tell you that he loved his wife very much, and that he found their temporary separation rather difficult. You mustn’t look so disapproving, Miss Green. This kind of thing is more common than you realise.”
“I cannot help but think about his poor wife and daughters.”
“Absolutely. Mrs Gallo is a delightful lady, she really is. And as for those girls…” He paused to shake his head. “They really will be distraught. I just wish one of us could have stopped it somehow. It can’t have happened long after we all retired to bed. One moment he was here with us and then…” His voice broke with emotion, and he pulled a purple silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes. “Oh, I do apologise, Miss Green. You don’t want to sit there watching an old fool like me lose his composure.”
“I understand, Mr Somers. Mr Gallo was a friend of yours.”
“Yes, he was. I liked him a lot. He wasn’t perfect, but he certainly had no malice about him. None at all. I cannot understand it.”
The dark-whiskered Mr Blackstone joined us. “I’ve heard a rumour that they intend to let us out of this place shortly,” he said. “I’ve interviewed just about everyone I could in the meantime.”
“You and Miss Green should form a team,” said Mr Somers with a smile. “She was questioning me just now in the manner of a police officer.”
“Well, we are reporters, Mr Somers,” replied Mr Blackstone. “We’re always working.”
“I shall have to write up this tragic news for the Journal,” Mr Somers replied. “But I shan’t be interviewing everyone like you, Mr Blackstone. I simply cannot bring myself to do it. I feel too saddened.” He wiped his eyes again.
“Have you found out anything useful?” I asked Mr Blackstone.
“I can hardly go around telling rival reporters what I’ve found out!” he replied with a bemused smile. “In truth, I haven’t really found out much more than the established facts. I spoke to the maid who found Mr Gallo at the foot of the stairs. She’s in a very sorry state. The police are being careful about what they tell us, as usual. I can’t imagine anyone enlightening me any further, and it’s as clear as day that Chief Inspector Fenton isn’t the sort to let anything slip. That’s why I’m so keen to get out of here. We need to discover who Mr Gallo was keeping company with and who might have wished him harm.”
“That’s what Miss Green was just suggesting,” said Mr Somers. “The two of you really should work together.”
“Rival newspapers do not work together, Mr Somers,” said Mr Blackstone, “as you well know. And if you think I’ve been busy, you should see what Mr Bolton has been up to. I think he’s interviewed every member of staff, and he’s been pestering Fenton relentlessly. I think he’s the real reason they may be prepared to let us out of here, having annoyed everyone too much!”
“Presumably we are all suspects,” I commented.
“But they’ve spoken to all the guests now and have hopefully ruled a number of us out,” said Mr Somers. “All of us, I should think. Why should one of Mr Gallo’s guests wish to murder him?”
“Why should anyone wish to murder him?” added Mr Blackstone.
“It has to have been an intruder,” said Mr Somers. “Someone must have broken into the hotel during the night, even though they haven’t yet discovered how he got in. Perhaps they will never discover it. He may have been very clever in covering his tracks.”
Mr Bolton strode into the dining room. He helped himself to some bread and meat before joining us.
“I tried warning him about the curse, didn’t I?” he said drily.
“Don’t even talk about that,” said Mr Somers. “It’s not the slightest bit amusing.”
“I speak quite seriously,” replied Mr Bolton. “There was a good deal of talk about the curse before, and now this has happened people will never stop talking about it, will they? They’ll have to knock the place down. No one will ever want to run it or stay in it again.”
“It’s rather hasty to be talking about the future at this stage,” said Mr Somers. “And rather disrespectful, too.”
“I meant no disrespect, but I can see a certain irony in the situation. ‘Curse? What curse?’ Those were his exact words to me last night, and now look what’s happened! It was almost foretold.”
“What nonsense!” said Mr Somers, jumping up from his chair. “I find your talk rude and careless, sir. Nathaniel was a friend of mine, and I would politely ask you to speak about the man with respect. You don’t deserve to have been his guest!”
Mr Somers moved further down the table and took a seat next to Mr White.
Chief Inspector Fenton entered the room moments later with two constables in tow. “We cannot detain you all here any longer today,” he said. “You have jobs and families to return to. Keen as you will all be to ask questions, I will simply tell you what we have found out so far and allow you to proceed with the day. I have taken down the names and addresses of everyone here, and the names of your employers, where necessary, so that I or my colleagues can easily make contact with you should the need arise. The first development you will be interested to hear is that we have found the murder weapon: a large knife.”
His announcement was met with gasps of surprise.
“Where?” asked Mrs Mortimer.
“I am not at liberty to share that information yet, as there are a few people I need to speak to about it in the first instance.”
“But you found it here in the hotel?” asked Mr White.
“Yes, I can confirm that it is here in the hotel. And we have also found some discarded clothing.”
There were more gasps and mutters of interest.
“An overcoat was found in Milford Alley, a narrow thoroughfare that runs behind the hotel. This leads us to believe that the culprit either escaped along that route, discarding the overcoat as he went, or threw it out of a window.”
“Can you be sure that it is connected to Mr Gallo’s murder?” asked Mr Hardy. “It might have been discarded by anyone during the night.”
“It might have been, but the fact that the coat is heavily bloodstained suggests to us that it was worn by the murderer. It would otherwise be difficult to account for its appearance. There is a wheelwright’s workshop in that street, and the workers we spoke to there confirmed that they did not recall seeing the overcoat in the alley yesterday, so we are certain that it was left there during the night. In addition, I should say that we have been unable to find any windows or doors that show signs of forced entry.
“Thank you all for your help with the investigation so far. We have made a good deal of progress. I would like to request that you continue to make yourselves available to assist me and my colleagues going forward. I am allowing you to leave this hotel on the condition that you continue to cooperate with us. If anyone refuses to do so the matter will be taken very seriously indeed.”
Once dismissed, we swiftly left the room and made our way toward the foyer, where our cases were waiting for us. I felt a sense of relief that I would soon be out of this miserable, stifling place. I would be able
to get on with my report for the newspaper and I was also looking forward to seeing James. I knew that discussing the tragedy with him would help me feel a great deal better.
“Can you come with me please, Miss Green?” asked Chief Inspector Fenton before I could locate my luggage.
I sighed. “Will it be quick? I really must get back to my office.”
I watched enviously as Mr Bolton and Mr Blackstone stepped out of the hotel.
“It may take a little while, I’m afraid,” he replied.
“But I don’t understand, Inspector. I’ve already told you everything I know.”
“Not everything, Miss Green.”
I paused and thought about the events of the night, wondering what I could possibly have missed. “Inspector, there really is nothing else I can tell you. I sincerely wish that I could be of more help.”
“Oh, you will be, I feel sure of that.”
“What is it? What else do you need to know?”
“I want to know, Miss Green, how the murder weapon came to be found in your bedchamber.”
Chapter 14
I returned Chief Inspector Fenton’s stare, struggling to believe what he had just said to me.
“But it couldn’t have been in my bedchamber,” I responded. “You must be mistaken. Are you sure you’re talking about my room? It certainly wasn’t there earlier. How did it get in there?”
“I have no idea, Miss Green. That’s why I should like to speak to you. Come with me, please, and let’s get to the bottom of this.”
“But I don’t know anything about a large knife!”
“I’m sure you don’t, but we must still discuss it.”
I followed the chief inspector back to Mr Gallo’s office, where Inspector Pilkington was waiting, along with the fair-whiskered constable I had seen outside the Venetian Suite.
I didn’t like the way the three men looked at me as I took a seat. They watched me intently, as if looking for a sign that I was lying.
“This has to be a misunderstanding,” I said.
“It was in your bedchamber, Miss Green.”
“Whereabouts did you find it?”
“Perhaps you can tell us?”
I gave an incredulous laugh, unable to believe that he truly believed I might know anything of its location.
“I have no idea, Inspector! Someone has obviously planted it there. My door was locked, although… I had left it unlocked while I went down to breakfast. That must have been when the weapon was deposited there.”
Chief Inspector Fenton raised a dubious eyebrow.
“I’m telling you the truth!” I said. The palms of my hands suddenly felt damp. Surely they had to believe me. They couldn’t possibly think that I had carried out this terrible crime, could they? “Where was the knife found, Inspector?”
He nodded at the constable, who placed a leather bag on the desk before carefully retrieving something from it.
It was a white, bloodstained towel, much like the ones I had seen at the foot of the stairs during the clean-up after Mr Gallo’s murder.
I recoiled as the bundled-up towel was placed on the desk in front of me. There were smears of blood all over it.
The constable opened out the towel and I caught my breath as I saw the sharp knife, which appeared to be about eight inches long, laying upon it. It was the sort of knife that might be used in a kitchen. I noticed that its handle and blade were remarkably clean. Judging by the state of the towel, the murderer had attempted to clean the knife with it. My stomach turned as my nostrils filled with the cold, metallic smell of blood.
I covered my mouth with my hands and stared at the knife. I had reported on many murders but rarely came so close to the murder weapon. I shuddered as I reflected on the fact that the implement in front of me had been used to brutally slay two people. I couldn’t even begin to fathom how someone might use so much violence against another person. What could possibly have compelled the murderer to do it?
Once again, I was aware that I was being watched by the police officers, who seemed keen to assess my reaction when presented with the weapon in this way. I looked away, having peered at the bloodied implement for long enough.
“I have never seen that knife before,” I said, staring down at my hands in my lap. “You can take it away now. I don’t want to look at it any more.”
The constable slowly folded the towel over the weapon and placed it back inside the bag. The movement was carried out slowly and laboriously, as if they wished to continue gauging my reaction.
“I left my door unlocked,” I repeated, “while I was at breakfast. That’s when the murderer must have planted the knife in my room.”
Chief Inspector Fenton regarded me coolly. “What time did you go down to breakfast?”
“The clock said a quarter-past eight when I arrived in the dining room. And you saw me just before that, sir. Do you remember? I joined you in the foyer with Mr Blackstone and Mr Somers. I think that must have been shortly after eight o’clock, but I cannot be completely sure of that. I hope you’ll agree that I couldn’t possibly have committed this heinous crime, Chief Inspector. I can assure you that I have no idea how the weapon found its way into my room. Someone must have put it there at some time after eight o’clock this morning.”
I wished I had locked the door to my room and avoided being implicated in this terrible incident.
“Did you purposefully leave your bedchamber unlocked, Miss Green?”
“No, in fact I didn’t give the matter any thought at all.”
“Did you return to your bedchamber after breakfast?”
“Yes, I returned to fetch my carpet bag. Everything appeared to be as I had left it, and there was no sign of the knife or the towel at that point. If there had been, I would have summoned you, of course, but there was no indication that anyone had been in there.
“After that I locked my bedchamber, but my case has since been brought down to the foyer. Have you asked who brought it down yet? That person must also have been inside my bedchamber, and would have been in there after me, given that the case was still lying on the bed when I left it.”
“What time did you fetch your carpet bag from the bedchamber?”
“I think I left the dining room at about a quarter-to nine, so it would have been around five or ten minutes after that, I suppose.”
“And I saw you by the Venetian Suite on the first floor at about that time,” said the constable.
“Yes, I went there first,” I replied, slightly embarrassed that I had been caught snooping about. “I’m a news reporter, Constable. You know what we’re like.” I gave him a smile, which was not returned. “I wanted to find out more about the lady who died.”
“And I told you she was a prostitute, and that there was nothing more I could tell you.”
“Yes, and then I fetched my bag from my bedchamber.”
“What were you doing on the first floor, Miss Green?” asked Chief Inspector Fenton.
“When I report on a case I like to see the crime scene if possible.”
“That is not a necessary part of your work.”
“On the contrary, I think it is. If I have a clear idea of what happened when and where I can report it as accurately as possible for the readers of my newspaper.”
“Your readers don’t require the level of detail you think they do. Now, I believe that my colleagues and I have been more than accommodating with you and your fellow reporters this morning. We have told you the facts of the case as we have discovered them and answered your numerous questions. There was no need for you to go wandering around the hotel trying to conduct an investigation of your own. It is unhelpful and gives us even more work to do. Imagine if everyone did as you have done, Miss Green! My officers would be spending all their time trying to keep control of errant ink-scribblers rather than getting on with the important matter of catching whoever committed this dreadful crime!”
“I apologise if I have caused any inconvenience, Inspector. Tha
t wasn’t my intention at all.”
“Well, you’ve dropped yourself in it, I’m afraid, because your recent activity can only be regarded as suspicious.”
“I was merely gathering information to report on the case!”
He gave a shrug. “I’m sure you will try your hardest to convince me otherwise, Miss Green. However, the facts remain that the murder weapon was found in your bedchamber and that you were seen visiting the scene of the crime. No other guests were seen loitering around there this morning.”
“The murderer is hardly going to return to the crime scene, is he?” I retorted. “Especially with so many police officers present.”
“On the contrary, Miss Green,” replied the chief inspector. “We have found that a number of culprits return to the scene of their misdeeds. Sometimes they do so to derive further warped pleasure from their acts, and sometimes they wish to find out whether the investigating officers are on their trail.”
“I went there purely out of interest as a news reporter,” I said. “You cannot possibly conjure your theories into a charge against me.”
He gave a hollow laugh. “That’s what they all say.”
“The fact that the knife was found in my bedchamber does not make me a murderer. And besides, I don’t have the physical ability to stab two people to death. Neither is there any motive for me to do so!”
“Did you deliberately leave your door unlocked, Miss Green?”
“You have already asked me that, Inspector, and I told you that it was purely accidental.”
“Might anyone else have known that you had left your door unlocked?”
“Only if they had tried the handle and found it so, I suppose.”
“Did you tell anyone that you had left it unlocked?”
“No! I hadn’t given it any thought until I returned to the room.”
“Do you understand what I am insinuating here, Miss Green?”
“I’m not sure that I do.”
“Collusion. Perhaps you left your door unlocked so that the murderer could deposit the weapon inside your bedchamber. It was something that could have been planned in advance.”