Death & Other Lies

by Carol L. Ochadleus

  “Six-five to be exact,” Jeremy’s lopsided grin answered. “From my mother’s side.” The two men let the other arrivals jostle them about until a path cleared and they could head for the stairs. “Bring any other luggage with you,” Jeremy asked.

  “Yes, one larger bag. I couldn’t fit all my stuff in the smaller carry-on. Wasn’t sure what type of clothes I would need over here for this time of year.”

  Jeremy nodded. “Our weather can change by the minute, but as long as you brought a mackintosh, a jumper, and an umbrella, you’ll get by.”

  “A Mackintosh, a jumper?” Matt raised an eyebrow at him.

  Laughing, Jeremy said, “Yeah a raincoat and a sweater to you.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Oh, and a taste for warm beer,” Jeremy added.

  “Your cousin said you were from the States, but you seem to have picked up some local color,” Matt said.

  “Well, yes, I guess after two years here, you do alter your vocabulary. You know the old saying, ‘when in Rome.’”

  “Right,” Matt repeated. “‘When in Rome.’”

  As soon as his decision was made to go to London, Matt remembered Detective Orliss’s comments about his English wife. He contacted him and asked if he could help him out. Detective Orliss was surprised to hear from Matt and explained his wife was born in the U.S., and as far as he knew there wasn’t much family left in Great Britain. “However,” he added, “You remember Sergeant York, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well Brian’s cousin lives in London, maybe he would be able to help.” Hanging up the phone, Detective Orliss chuckled to himself, “well there goes my friendship with Brian. Wait until he finds out I dumped Errington back in his lap again.” The Sergeant and the Detective had both come to the conclusion the guy was a little wacky. Although they did feel sorry for him, they knew there wasn’t anything they could do for the guy.

  Sergeant York, however, wasn’t upset when Matt called him and explained his decision to look for Kate. He knew the guy was wasting his time but thought it was pretty sad the man needed to chase ghosts, and he offered to contact his cousin in London for him. The police had long since decided Matt wasn’t dangerous, just lonely, so if Matt wanted to go running across the ocean on a wild goose chase, hey, more power to him. He knew Jeremy would take care of him. York called his cousin, briefly explained Matt needed a hand and thanked Jeremy for his trouble. “Poor guy,” Sergeant York mumbled again as he looked at the pictures on his desk. He was glad he had a nice normal family to go home to. He and his wife had their share of problems, but at least she was real.

  RIDING DOWN THE ESCALATOR with Jeremy to the lower level, Matt was able to take in the size of the airport. “Wow, the place is old and enormous.”

  “It’s the busiest airport in the world,” Jeremy answered. “People from all over the world walk through here every day. It was bombed during the German’s Blitzkrieg in World War II. The Germans bombed London for nearly eight months and devastated the area between St. Paul’s Cathedral and the Guildhall. Several historic churches were damaged as well as Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey. But the British rebuilt their jewels, and since then, this airport has become the hub of Europe and has had several additions over the last sixty-six years.”

  It was a new experience for Matt, and he felt alive to be amid such chaos. He appreciated Jeremy’s anecdotes and was impressed by the airport’s history. People dressed in a myriad of styles representative of numerous countries and cultures teemed around the main mall. Even if nothing came of his search, he was glad he’d come. Life flowed through his veins once more.

  The turntable creaked and groaned as luggage came bumping along its path. Matt’s was a plain black suitcase, and more than once he leaped forward to claim a bag which didn’t turn out to be his. He noted how several people tied bright ribbons or even silly stuffed toys to their bags. Matt thought the idea goofy, but eventually as one black bag after another went by, he saw the sense of it. It took longer than they thought, but as the number of bags eventually dwindled, he was finally able to spot his and grab it before it could make another journey around the loop, then they headed out toward the car park.

  “I’m sorry if I’m taking up your day,” Matt said, “I’m sure I can find my way around if you need to get back to work.”

  “Nope, not a problem. I have a pretty good boss who is flexible. I told him I was taking a late lunch and he won’t mind if I’m a little late getting back.”

  “How far is it to the hotel?”

  “Maybe twenty minutes or so. I don’t mind Matt, honestly, gets me out of the office for a spell.”

  “Your cousin said you were with a car company.”

  “I do marketing for an auto company here in the London office. And you? Brian mentioned you have a big job in a lab doing secret government work. Creating super wonder drugs, are you?”

  Matt laughed for the first time in months. “Not a big job, I’m just another small cog in a big company and my work is all for good, but I just finished something that has great potential. When I get back, I’m heading to a new position in Washington and hope to take it a lot further.”

  The drive from the airport was like a trip through his old geography book. The names of the places they passed spoke of history and culture, royalty and intrigue and the inevitable wars and transformations that centuries of civilization produced. The Tower of London; Big Ben; the Royal Gardens of Green Park; Piccadilly Center; places and landmarks he grew up reading about but never thought he would see. As they neared the hotel in west London, they passed the distinguished homes and shops of Hyde Parke. Matt was amazed to be there in one of the oldest cities in Europe, riding around on the wrong side of the street.

  “How long did it take to get used to driving like this?” Matt asked.

  “Not too long, if I wanted to live.”

  “No kidding, I find myself looking the wrong way each corner you come to. Probably would have been killed by now if you weren’t driving.”

  “Yeah, lots of tourists get hurt that way. It does take some getting used to.” Matt was enjoying the drive completely trusting Jeremy’s maneuvering of the British roads, almost wishing the ride would go on and on when Jeremy pulled up in front of a stately old brick building. A large burgundy canopy extended right over the sidewalk out to the edge of the street. Two doormen in crisp blue uniforms framed the swinging glass doors.

  “Will you need anything else?” Jeremy asked.

  “No, this is great. I appreciate your time and getting me here safely. I’ll be okay from here.”

  “Well, here is my business card in case you need me for anything. I don’t live in London; I have a small place near Kent, Southend-on-the-Sea. Healthier for my family away from the city.”

  “Your cousin said you had kids.”

  “Yep, two with maybe a third one on the way, we’re not sure yet.”

  “Well thanks again for the ride and the tour, I’ll give you a call in a couple of days, let you know how I’m doing.”

  “Oh yeah, Brian told me a little about your search, your girlfriend went missing or some such thing, right?”

  “Yeah, ‘some such thing’ is a good way to put it,” Matt said. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Right, well then here’s your suitcase,” Jeremy popped open the boot of his car, “I’ll be off.”

  “Cheerio,” Matt wanted to say but held it back. He didn’t want to seem flippant to this nice young man. Jeremy folded his long frame back into the small car and headed out into the traffic. Matt nodded goodbye, then turned to let the doormen eagerly do their job. The hotel of the postcard stood before him in all of its brick and granite majesty.

  Entering the Royal Arms Hotel was like entering another world. Class, that’s the first word which came to mind. Class and money. The room gleamed. From the twenty-two glistening chandeliers overhead to the polished black and gray marble floor. Brass lamps with litt
le black shades sat on dark mahogany tables scattered around the cavernous lobby adding focal points as they illuminated a wide selection of seating arrangements. High backed chairs in plush fabrics cuddled up to curved backed couches with deeply etched brocades. Small groups of people were seated in two’s and three’s, some sipping what appeared to be tea from white porcelain teacups. Three nuns dressed in their identical black habits, sat huddled together with their knees almost touching, giggling together like school girls. Remembering the nuns who had terrified him in his youth, Matt smiled at the sight. Guess they are human, after all.

  The registration desk was at the far end, and Matt headed in that direction winding his way around the center of the room where an enormous vase of fresh flowers dominated the view. It sat regally on top of what could have been King Arthur’s roundtable. It was massive, and he felt Lilliputian in its presence. This was the hotel on the postcard he found in his book at home. He hadn’t known from the picture what it would be like inside, but he was awed, and in spite of the cost, he was glad of his decision to stay there.

  At the registration desk, Matt waited behind a well-dressed elderly couple who were retrieving their mail and a suited businessman who was checking out. He approached the high, dark wood counter when it was his turn.

  “Yes, may I help you, sir,” was the brusque request from the little man just barely visible behind the gleaming marbled top.

  “I am Matt Errington; I have a reservation.” Matt fought the urge to peer over the top of the ledge to see the rest of the man.

  “Very good sir, if you will just wait one moment.”

  “Thank you,” responded Matt crisply as well. Conscious of his pronunciation of every syllable, he didn’t want this guy to label him an unpolished American.

  The little guy with rosy cheeks, like a beardless Santa, came out of the back room and with arms stretched nearly over his head, turned the registration book, which sat on a swiveling base, toward Matt. Handing him a gold pen, he said, “Would you please sign here. Your reservation is in order, and you should be in your room in no time, sir.” When he turned the book back around, the clerk handed Matt a large brass key.

  Matt was surprised by its size and weight. “In the states, they use plastic access cards instead of keys for hotel rooms,” he remarked to the clerk.

  “Yes sir, so I have heard,” Santa’s bushy eyebrow made an inverted check mark over his eye. It was clear from his tone; plastic would not be used in his hotel any time soon. “Do you have luggage, sir? I would be happy to call a bellhop for you.”

  “No, that’s okay, I can manage these myself,” Matt held up his suitcase in one hand and smaller bag in the other for confirmation.

  “As you wish sir. The lifts are to your right. Your room is on the seventh floor, number 782. If there is anything further you require, please do not hesitate to contact this desk. We are here twenty-four hours a day to serve your needs. Will you require anything else at this time, sir?”

  “No, thanks, ah, wait, on second thought ...”

  “Yes, sir?” Santa was practically standing at attention, stretching himself to his tallest height.

  “I would like to find out some information about this hotel.”

  “Of course, sir,” Santa beamed, seeming to grow another inch. “We are so proud of our fine establishment.”

  “Well, yes, I can see that, but I’m interested in locating someone who either lived here or stayed here for a time.”

  “I see,” the clerk’s eyes flickered with a barely perceptible twitch. “We have a strict policy of privacy, Mr. Errington. I am not sure how much information we will be able to provide to you.”

  Matt had been afraid of that but pushed on anyway. “Is there a possibility I can make an appointment with the hotel manager?”

  Santa blinked and said, “We will have to wait until tomorrow to see. Mr. Gillian, our General Manager, is away this afternoon, but I will pass on your request when he returns. Will that be satisfactory, sir?”

  “Yes, that’s fine. Please let me know what he says. It’s vital to me. It could be a matter of life and death.” He didn’t want to sound melodramatic, but if he didn’t get some answers, his whole trip was in vain.

  “Very good, sir. I will leave a note for you in the box. Good day sir.”

  “Good day,” Matt nodded, heading toward the lifts and a possible short nap before dinner.

  Tea time was nearly over by the time Matt arrived at the hotel, but a note on his bed said the kitchen was available for light meals twenty-four hours a day.

  Famished, he looked around his room done up in various creams and shades of blue, with burgundy sashes at the windows. It was beautifully laid out, and he inwardly noted what a stark contrast it was to his rather drab apartment. The room was not large, but each piece of furniture was polished to its’ mahogany finest. The water closet was downright tiny, he could hardly turn around in it, but Jeremy briefly told him how the hotel converted most of the rooms by carving out a space for private bathing for its guests. Originally, there were larger community washrooms on each floor. That would have sucked having to run down the hall to use the john at night. Small or not, he was happy for the privacy.

  There was a menu tucked into a large black leather folder on the desk; the Royal Arms emblem pressed into its cover in gold. He called the main desk and was transferred to someone in the dining room who quickly took his order. He didn’t care what they served as long as it was fast. He hadn’t eaten much on the plane because his stomach felt queasy going over the ocean. There was some turbulence, and he didn’t want to be sick even though he took the Dramamine that Sergeant York suggested. But now he was starved. The kitchen promised his order would be sent up within twenty minutes. Just enough time for a hot shower and to unpack his bags. He hoped to get a short nap after he ate then he wanted to take a stroll downtown, maybe find a nice restaurant for dinner. There was so much to see and do in London. No sense staying cooped up in a room. There was nothing he could do to find Kate’s mother until tomorrow and his meeting with the manager, so he might as well enjoy himself tonight.

  The water was hot even if the spray was weaker than he was used to. Matt laid his toiletries out on the narrow sink edge. He barely had enough time to finish shaving before a slight tap at the door announced his meal’s arrival. Within minutes Matt finished the sandwich, a crisp salad, and a piece of cheesecake, all served on delicate china and delivered to his room on a heavy silver tray. He washed it down with bottled water and immediately felt better than he had all day. Matt’s eyes were heavy, and finally, as he relaxed in his hotel room with a bit of food under his belt, he lay back on the big poster bed with its satin cover and fell instantly asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Slamming doors, the sounds of running water, and water pipes that rattled, hissed, and moaned, heralded morning in the old building. Matt opened his eyes and couldn’t believe he slept right through the evening and the entire night. He hadn’t even undressed. Lord, I must have been more tired than I thought, or maybe it’s just the jet lag I’ve always heard of.

  Waking as he did in the strange hotel room with unusual noises coming at him from all the walls, Matt took a few minutes to clear his head and get his bearings. He’d had a great sleep and wonderful dreams, strange and compelling but welcoming. A gentle wind blew across a patchwork field of colored grasses, muted blue and maroon hills scampered over to the horizon and a voice, melodic, warm and beckoning left him calm and full of anticipation. He couldn’t remember many of the details, but the feelings they left him with were peaceful, serene like he was in the right place at the right time, and all was as it should be. Well damn, that sounds corny. But okay, my subconscious must be telling me it’s okay to screw with my future, travel halfway around the world chasing a shadow of a shadow. So, it’s good to know I have the full support of my mind.

  Matt jumped out of bed, hungry again, and couldn’t wait to get downstairs. When the doors of the brass line
d lift slid silently open, he nodded a curt good morning to the young couple holding hands who entered before him. Breakfast in the dining room just off the massive lobby was more relaxed than Matt expected, considering the hotel’s reserved opulence. The white tablecloths he glimpsed the night before had been removed from all of the tables, and delectable aromas assailed him before he even reached the entrance. Several waitresses in crisp linen uniforms bustled about the well-stocked sideboards where the food was served.

  The maître d escorted him to a table along the wall and left Matt with instructions to help himself to the buffet. By now, Matt was practically drooling with anticipation and quickly piled his plate high. Fried ‘eggy bread’ as they called French toast, muffins, different kinds of eggs, sausage, bacon, and toward the end of the table, he spotted an unfamiliar seafood, cockle fish. Like something out of a nursery rhyme, he thought. Well, like Jeremy said, ‘when in Rome’, and he added some to his plate. He grabbed a large glass of orange juice and headed back to his table. The price of the hotel was going to take a bite out of his savings he knew, but breakfast was included, and he certainly couldn’t complain about the food. A steaming pot of coffee was waiting for his return.

  One plate left him completely satisfied, but there were sweets and fruits further down the line, and he didn’t want to miss a thing. He was heading back in that direction when a stately, white-haired gentleman with his hands clasped behind his back, headed right toward him.

  “Good morning sir,” the man said, putting out his hand to Matt. “Our clerk pointed you out to me; you are Mr. Errington?”

  “Yes, good morning,” Matt took the man’s hand in his. “But please, call me Matt.”

  “As you wish Matt, I am Roger Gillian, the house manager. I was informed you asked to see me.”

  “Oh, yes, great,” Matt beamed his surprise. “I am so glad you have time to talk to me. I was going to finish eating and then go check at the desk to see if you had gotten my message.”