Up Close and Personal (5 page)

Charlie hugged the handheld to his chest like a child reluctant to be parted from his favourite toy. ‘It won’t happen again,’ he said. ‘I was just texting my mum to see if she could pop round and feed the cat tonight.’

‘
Like hell you were,’ Reg said. ‘Come on, Charlie, hand it over. You’ll get it back at the end of your shift.’

Heaving a sigh, Charlie did as he was told.

Reg stared at the unfamiliar device, looking for the
off
key. He couldn’t help but notice the moving image on the screen above the keypad. It was a woman and she was wandering around her bedroom – naked. He looked at Charlie. ‘So
that’s
what you were doing … surfing the internet for porn.’ He frowned disapprovingly. ‘You filthy little bugger.’ Reg’s eyes returned to the screen. The woman was closer to the camera now. He found himself admiring her hourglass shape and the delicate shell-like pink of her nipples. Suddenly, she reached towards the bed and picked up a bra that was lying on top of a strangely familiar floral counterpane.

Reg held the device closer to his face, noting the toile de Jouy wallpaper and the handsome Windsor armchair with its faded upholstery. ‘That looks like the Coleridge Suite.’ He glanced at Charlie, whose cheeks had ripened to the colour of plums.

‘It is,’ Charlie admitted.

Reg looked at the screen again. The woman had put the bra on and was now stepping into a tiny G-string. ‘How the devil …’ he muttered.

‘It’s a hidden camera,’ Charlie explained sheepishly. ‘I bought it off the internet.’

Reg let out a long low whistle. ‘You’ve got some nerve,’ he said. ‘If that young lady discovers she’s being spied on, you’ll be in big trouble.’

‘She won’t,’ Charlie said. ‘The camera’s practically invisible. It’s hidden inside the smoke detector.’

Reg studied the woman’s face. He recognized her now. She was part of a six-strong hen party that had arrived at the hotel the night before. ‘Is this
live
?’ he asked.

‘Uh-huh,’ Charlie replied. ‘The picture quality’s pretty good, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, not bad,’ said Reg, watching, transfixed, as the woman began performing an elaborate stretching routine in front of the full-length mirror. ‘Have you got cameras in all the rooms?’

‘On
my
wages? You must be joking.’

Reg was intrigued. ‘So how come you can see the footage on this gizmo?’

‘The camera’s got a motion sensor and it streams real-time video direct to my handheld.’

Tearing his eyes away from the screen, Reg thrust the device into his jacket pocket. ‘You do realize this is a very serious matter, don’t you?’ he said in a stern voice. ‘Not to mention highly illegal.’

Charlie nodded. ‘Please don’t tell Mrs Fisher or I’ll lose my job. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I just thought it would be a bit of a laugh. As soon as she’s gone down to breakfast, I’ll go in there and get rid of the camera, I promise.’

Reg sucked in his breath. ‘Now let’s not do anything hasty, lad. I think we’d be better off waiting until the young lady’s checked out on Monday. After all, we wouldn’t want her walking in while you’re up there fiddling with the smoke detector or she might get suspicious.’ He patted his jacket pocket. ‘And, in the meantime, I’d better keep a hold of your equipment. We wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands now, would we?’

‘Erm, no, I guess not,’ said the bemused porter.

Reg tapped the side of his nose. ‘And not a word about this to anyone. Let’s keep it between ourselves.’ He stepped out of the broom cupboard. ‘I’d better get on with my rounds. And you’d better get down to the laundry room. The fella in the Betjeman had a little accident last night. Something he ate disagreed with him apparently and his bed needs stripping. You’ll need to give everything a good boil wash, mind.’

Charlie’s shoulders drooped at the thought of the unappetizing task that lay ahead. ‘Right you are.’ He watched as the older man lumbered down the corridor. Reg Cundy was a dirty old dog and no mistake.

4

Dante was taking Jess for her usual early morning walk in Ashwicke’s sprawling grounds when, quite without warning, the heavens opened. When he left the house half an hour earlier, the sky had been bright and filled with cottony clouds. Unfamiliar with the vagaries of the British weather, he’d ventured outdoors without an umbrella. Big mistake: in another few minutes he’d be soaked to the skin. Sighing, Dante patted his hip and called to Jess, who was having great fun chasing wood pigeons. The second she heard his voice, the pointer wheeled round and came bounding across the lawn towards him. Dante smiled; it was only his third week at Ashwicke, but already he and Jess had formed a strong bond.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Dante started back to the house with Jess at his side. As he walked, head bowed against the driving rain, his thoughts turned to his old life back in Aspen. There, his days typically started with a breakfast of pancakes and strong black coffee, followed by a two-hour session on the ski slopes. Afterwards, he did chores or met a friend for lunch, before heading to the bar mid-afternoon to start his shift. He was never bored or at a loose end; in a bustling resort like Aspen, there was always something to do or someone to see. Indeed, it had often seemed to Dante that there weren’t enough hours in the day. Here in Loxwood,
however, it was a different story. To fill the long hours he’d been doing odd jobs at the hotel – putting up shelves, fixing leaky taps and doing bits of painting and decorating. He was happy to help out, but it was mind-numbing stuff. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he and Juliet had been working side by side, but during the day they hardly saw each other. Juliet was either manning reception, chasing after staff, or holed up in her tiny office under the stairs, hunched over a spreadsheet. Evenings were better – but even then Juliet was on permanent call in case one of her guests needed a spare blanket or there was a problem with the hot water.

By the time Dante arrived back at the house, he looked like something the cat had dragged in. His clothes were sodden and droplets of rainwater were running off the ends of his hair and down the back of his neck. Stepping into the vestibule, he kicked off his trainers, then reached for one of the old towels Juliet kept for the dog. After giving his own hair a brisk rub, he bent down and started wiping the mud from Jess’s paws, but she managed to wriggle free before he’d finished.

‘Bad girl,’ Dante scolded as the pointer hurtled into the hall. He followed her, towel in hand, frowning when he saw the muddy trail she’d left in her wake. With the dog now nowhere in sight, he squatted down and began rubbing at the nearest set of paw prints.

‘You should’ve taken an umbrella.’ The voice made Dante jump. Looking up, he saw Nathan standing behind the reception desk. With his deep-set eyes, prominent cheekbones and thick lips, the general manager had a rather simian look.

‘Yeah,’ Dante said, sitting back on his haunches. ‘I guess I’ll have to buy one.’

‘There’s no need for that.’ Nathan gestured to the elephant’s foot umbrella stand in the corner. ‘We keep these for guests. Just help yourself.’

Dante glanced at the stand. He found it quite grotesque, even though Juliet had explained that it was an antique and, as such, fell outside the remit of modern-day conservation laws. ‘Great,’ he said, turning his attention back to the paw prints.

Nathan walked over to him. ‘I’ll have one of the chambermaids bring out a mop and bucket,’ he said in a voice unsettlingly lacking in peaks or troughs.

‘It’s okay, I’m nearly done.’ Dante wiped away the final set of paw prints and stood up.

Nathan whisked the towel out of his hands and tucked it under his arm. ‘I’ll take this to the laundry.’

‘It’s okay, I can do it myself.’

‘Honestly, it’s no trouble,’ Nathan replied.

‘Fine,’ Dante said, fighting the urge to yank the towel back out of the general manager’s grasp.

‘Have you had breakfast yet?’

‘No, I was just going to grab some cereal.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like something more substantial? I can have Chef prepare a full English for you.’

Dante patted his stomach. Two weeks of full Englishes were already beginning to take their toll. ‘No, honestly, cereal’s fine.’

‘Muesli, cornflakes or Weetabix?’

‘Er, muesli, thanks.’

‘And would you like that with hot milk or cold?’

‘Cold, please.’

‘Can I bring you some toast as well?’

‘Uh, okay.’

‘White, wholemeal or granary?’

‘Wholemeal.’

‘Jam, honey or lemon curd?’

‘Just butter, thanks.’

‘Salted or unsalted?’

Dante tried not to show his irritation. The exchange had left him feeling drained. He’d always thought that the point of having staff was to make one’s life easier, but here at Ashwicke they only served to make even the simplest decisions a hundred times more complicated. ‘I really don’t care.’

‘And to drink?’

‘Coffee: black, caffeinated, no sugar.’

‘And where will you take it?’

Dante sighed. ‘Where would you suggest?’ he said in a faintly sarcastic tone.

‘Why don’t you go in the snug? It’s awfully cosy.’

Dante frowned. The day after their arrival from the States, Juliet had taken him on a whistle-stop tour of Ashwicke’s many rooms, but he still hadn’t had time to explore them all properly – never mind learn their names. ‘I don’t think I know where the snug is,’ he said, embarrassed that he had to ask for directions in his own home.

Nathan nodded towards one of the corridors that led off the hall. ‘It’s down there, third door on the right. I’ll bring your breakfast shortly.’ And before Dante had a chance to protest the manager had turned on his heel and walked away.

Suddenly, Dante felt something warm and soft nudge his hand. Looking down, he saw Jess staring up at him with her big eyes. ‘Well,’ he told the dog, ‘I guess we’re having our breakfast in the snug this morning.’

The snug, as its name suggested, was a small, low-ceilinged room, comfortably furnished with a well-worn Chesterfield and several mismatching armchairs. The curtains were made of plum-coloured damask and the walls were covered with a richly patterned paper depicting various types of game bird. Nothing about the room was remotely familiar; Dante was certain he’d never set foot in it before. Jess, by contrast, seemed instantly at home, flopping down on the faded rug in front of the fireplace.

Dante went over to one of the windows and flung open the sash. The snug was certainly cosy, as Nathan had indicated, but the air in the room smelled stale and faintly musty, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time. Just below the window was an antique desk, clearly positioned to make the most of the view across the garden. A blotter lay across the top, covered in old ink stains. There were doodles too, very masculine in nature: a sports car, an intricate pirate ship, a rocket launching into space. Lying across one corner of the blotter was a pipe – well used, judging by the teeth marks on the stem. Dante assumed that, like the doodles, it belonged to Gus. He picked the pipe up and raised the bowl to his nose. It still bore the sickly-sweet scent of tobacco. He felt a twinge of jealousy, knowing that the lips that had gripped this pipe had kissed Juliet a million times. Above the blotter was a paperback: a Robert Ludlum spy thriller. A dog-eared page revealed the reader had stopped fourteen pages from the end.

With a vague sense of unease, Dante slid open the top drawer of the desk. The first thing he saw was a pewter paperknife with the initials
GI
engraved on the handle. Next to it was an old diary. The pigskin cover felt soft and expensive under his fingertips. He opened a page at random and saw that it contained several mundane entries, written in a strange, sloping hand. Feeling like a carrion crow, picking over the remains of a dead body, he shut the drawer and took a step back, deep in thought. It was then that he noticed a pair of men’s leather slippers beneath the desk. He bent down and picked one up. It was huge: a size twelve, at least.

‘I think those will be a bit big for you. I can give you a pair of guest slippers if you like.’

Dante looked up. Nathan was standing in the doorway with a breakfast tray in his hands.

Feeling slightly foolish, Dante set the slipper down beside its twin. ‘I wasn’t figuring on wearing them,’ he said. ‘I was just looking.’

‘Curious, eh?’ Nathan said, smiling sardonically. ‘I don’t blame you.’ The manager came into the room and set the tray down on a long low coffee table in front of the Chesterfield. ‘Would you like me to pour your coffee?’

‘Yes, please.’ He watched as Nathan pushed the plunger down on the cafetière. ‘Are those Gus’s things on the desk – the book and so on?’

‘I believe so. Everything’s been left just as it was the day he died. Those were Mrs Ingram’s instructions.’ The manager gestured to the breakfast things. ‘Why don’t you eat your toast, before it gets cold?’

Dante sat down on the Chesterfield. He didn’t fancy
eating his breakfast in the snug any more; the room seemed suddenly oppressive. But, not wanting Nathan to see he was spooked, he picked up a slice of toast and began buttering it vigorously. When he looked up again, the manager had gone.

After polishing off two rounds of toast – with a little help from Jess who, he was rapidly discovering, would eat anything put in front of her – Dante was about to start on his muesli when all at once he heard Juliet’s voice out in the hall. ‘Dante?’ she was saying. ‘Dante, darling, where are you?’

He turned his head over his shoulder. ‘In the snug,’ he called back.

A moment later Juliet appeared at the door. The last time Dante had seen her she was still in her nightdress, but now she’d changed into jeans and a white linen blouse. She seemed shocked to see him there. ‘What on earth are you doing?’ she demanded, hands on hips.

The spoon stopped halfway to Dante’s mouth. ‘Having my breakfast.’

‘Yes, I can see that,’ Juliet said impatiently. ‘But why are you eating it in
here
?’

‘It was Nathan’s idea.’

Juliet’s nostrils flared. ‘Was it now?’ She swept over to the open window and slammed it shut. ‘Look at this,’ she said, picking up a corner of the curtain. ‘The rain’s come in – this is sopping wet.’ Her voice was tremulous. She seemed upset.