White Lies (19 page)

“It’s half eight in the morning. Who’s going to hold a funeral this early?” Dafydd executed a full three-sixty and sped out of the car park again, nodding at the uniformed police officer guarding the crime scene in the rain. “Think she’d want a cornet?”

“No. Go right at the end of the road, then the next right and left into Markham Road.” Meinwen settled back into the seat. “Then it’s pretty much a straight road all the way to Mill Street,

“Posh or rough?” Dafydd glanced at her. “The area, I mean. Should I stay in the van or what?”

“Chervil’s mostly council maisonettes, though it is where John Fenstone lived and he had a bob or two. We’ll drive past the hotel and double back. I’d rather not park the truck outside it unless we have to.”

“Why’s that? Gives the wrong impression?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It is what it is.” Dafydd shrugged and grinned. “If I was the hotel type I’d be driving something that didn’t have a tank of propane wedged behind the driver’s seat.”

They drove on in comfortable silence. Meinwen was going to point out John Fenstone’s penthouse flat but they couldn’t see it from the main road without turning into Chervil Court itself.

“Student land.” Dafydd nodded toward the row of houses on their right. Unkempt gardens and doors with multiple bells and letterboxes advertised the presence of flats and bedsits.

“Yes. They mostly go to the community college on the other side of town. I think the planners didn’t want the students cluttering up the area around the college.” She looked at the name of a side street as they passed it. “Take the next right. That should be Mill Street.”

“It is indeed.” Dafydd slowed and turned. “And there’s your hotel.”

Meinwen looked to her left as they passed. The Hotel Luminaria was a short block of three-story Edwardian terraces knocked into one. Bay windows and palm trees in pots set it apart from its neighbors.

“Welcome to Laverstone Riviera.” Meinwen took a deep breath. “You can just about see the canal from here.”

“Where’s the river?”

“About a mile to the east.” Meinwen wiped condensation from the passenger side window. “It looks all right.”

Dafydd had parked up on the other side of the road and was looking at the hotel in between rolling a handful of cigarettes. “Not very busy though.”

Meinwen glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “It’s ten to nine. Those guests who work will have left already and those that don’t work will still be having breakfast.”

“Or a last shag before it’s time to get up.” He’d made a small pile of cigarettes like a crooked log cabin. He folded away his tobacco pouch.

“There’s someone coming out.” Meinwen leaned forward in her seat. “Can you make out who it is?”

“Some white dude.” He lit a cigarette and wound the window down a couple of inches to blow the smoke out. “They all look alike to me.”

“Really?”

“Nah, but what do you expect? I only know one person in Laverstone and that’s you. I’m hardly going to say ‘Oh yes, it’s Mr. Pinkerton from Sycamore Lane’ am I?”

“I suppose not.” She sat back again. “I can’t make him out, anyway. It could be the mayor for all I know.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the back window. Dafydd scowled.

“Who’s that?”

“Some kid.” He undid his seat belt and went through to the back of the van to slide open the serving window. “Yes?”

There was a boy outside dressed in an anorak, jeans and trainers. He looked to be about seven. “Have you got a Strawberry Sprinkle?”

“No, mate. I haven’t got anything.”

“What about a Chocolate Volcano?”

“No. Nothing. I’ve got nothing.”

“A Big Banana Bellyache?”

“No. Listen, kid. It’s raining. I’ve got no music on and the freezers are empty until next Easter, all right? Why aren’t you in school, anyway?”

“I’ve got mumps, ain’t I? My Mam says the best thing for mumps is ice cream.”

“Well, I haven’t got any. You’ll have to try the supermarket.”

“Oh.” He gave a dejected sigh. “What about fags?”

“Get out of here.” Dafydd slid the window closed and clambered back into the driver’s seat. “Bloody kids.”

Meinwen watched the lad trudge away. He looked dejected. “You could have done him a burger.”

“Don’t you start.” He relit his cigarette. “Right. Are we going in or what?”

“We are.” She slipped off her seat belt, opened the door and dropped to the pavement, then waited while Dafydd locked the van. They headed toward the double doors of the hotel where Meinwen paused and took a deep breath. She straightened her coat and settled her bag more comfortably on her shoulder. “How do I look?”

Dafydd shrugged. “Fine. You look fine.”

“But do I look like a dominant woman?”

“How should I know? I’ve never been into that. Shouldn’t you be wearing black leather or a PVC catsuit?”

“Dominance is a state of mind.” Meinwen straightened his jacket and brushed away some specks of dandruff. “From now on, you call me ‘Mistress’ or ‘Ms. Jones,’ all right?”

He snorted. “If you think I’m going to play your errand boy, you’ve another thing coming.”

“Have I?” She placed her hand over his groin. “You didn’t complain last night, did you?”

“I suppose not.” Dafydd looked away. “All right. Just while we’re here though.”

“If you like.” Meinwen lips creased into a half smile. She wished she’d remembered lipstick. “Right then. Lets find out a little more about John Fenstone.” She crossed the road to face the door, squared her shoulders and entered.

Dafydd almost felt the pull of an invisible leash. “Coming, Madam.”

The lobby of the Hotel Luminaria was much like any other hotel Meinwen had ever been in. Not that she’d been in many, but there was a front desk with attached computer screens, forgettable paintings and lots of white painted walls and wood paneling. There was a woman behind the desk wearing a perfectly normal business suit.

“Good morning, madam.” Her eyes flickered briefly to Dafydd but returned to Meinwen. “Welcome to the Luminaria.”

“Hello. I wonder if you can help me.” Meinwen took a gamble that news of Richard’s death was not yet public knowledge. “You were recommended by Richard Godwin.”

“An occasional guest. That was kind of him.” She smiled. “Did you want a room?”

“Perhaps.” Meinwen glanced at Dafydd. “It depends upon the facilities you offer.”

“We have a gym and a sauna for the use of guests, a bar and a dining room and we can arrange for you to have a masseur visit if you desire.”

“What about...” Meinwen scraped a fingernail along the polished wood of the desk. “Personal services? My boy here is an animal lover.”

“I’m afraid we don’t allow animals here, madam.”

“You misunderstand. He likes...cats.” Meinwen wondered if she could be so badly mistaken about the hotel. She had got the right one, hadn’t she? The website hadn’t mentioned any code words to access the kinky side of the business. Did she have to be more obvious? “The sort with nine tails.”

“I see.” She pursed her lips, looking at them both, then reached for the telephone and dialed zero. “Lady Shadow? There’s a lady here who’d like to speak to you.” She listened to the reply before replacing the handset. “If you’d like to wait in the guest’s lounge?” She pointed with an open hand, like an air hostess indicating the emergency exits.

Meinwen followed the direction. “Thank you.”

“Would you like anything while you wait? The bar’s not open but I can offer tea or coffee.”

“Nothing, thank you.” Meinwen headed toward the lounge.

“I wouldn’t mind a coffee.” Dafydd trailed after her. “The stuff you gave me was stretching the trades descriptions act.”

The resident’s lounge was reminiscent of an old boy’s club. Several overstuffed armchairs, a card table and a large fireplace, presently unlit. Thankfully Meinwen could detect no smell of smoke. She suspected the room would have once been full of it. The bookcases along one wall held a series of legal tomes and Reader’s Digest condensed works. She selected a seat by the fireplace but when Dafydd went to take the seat opposite she shook her head and pointed downward.

“On the floor?”

“Start as we intend to go on, eh?”

“How you intend to go on, you mean. This isn’t my scene at all.” He sat nonetheless but declined to kneel, preferring instead to tuck one leg beneath him with the other straight out.

Meinwen glanced through a gossip magazine while they waited. Before she’d finished the letters page a man dressed in the hotel livery entered with a tray. “Your coffee, ma’am.”

Meinwen barely glanced up from the magazine. “It’s for him, actually.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He placed the tray on a low wooden stool, several of which were stacked against one wall, and carried the whole lot over to Dafydd. “Would you like me to pour, sir?”

“No, thanks. I can manage.”

“Very good, sir.” The waiter looked up again. “Will that be all?”

“Yes.” Meinwen looked up, the magazine still held open. “Wait. There is something. Did you know John Fenstone? I believe he used to work here.”

“Yes. Well, to a degree. He freelanced his services. Horrible what he did to himself. I can’t imagine what he must have been going through.”

“Were you intimately acquainted?”

He laughed politely, as if it were a practiced response. “Not at all. No relationships are allowed between the staff.”

“Is that an official rule?”

“Yes it is.” The answer was supplied by an Asian woman, impeccably dressed in a close-fitted business suit, who appeared at the doorway. Her diminutive frame belied the hardness of her tone as she studied Meinwen. Her gaze flickered to the waiter and she came fully into the room. “Michael? You may go.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He gave her a half bow and left.

“His deference to you belies the statement.” Meinwen dropped the magazine back into the rack. “He certainly seems to have a relationship with you.”

“Purely a professional one. He’s been sent here for training. I’m his mistress for the next three months while he, if you’ll pardon the expression, learns the ropes.” The woman sat down, hardly making a dent in the overstuffed chair. “I was told you requested me?”

“Lady Shadow, I presume.” Meinwen held out her hand. “Meinwen Jones. This is Dafydd. He needs training, too.”

“Hey!”

“He’s very new to all this. I won’t even let him be my slave until he knows what it actually means.”

“And you want us to train him? We run as a genuine hotel here, you know. It’s not all mistresses and dungeons. Most of out guests have no clue what goes on behind the closed doors.”

“Discretion is always preferred.” Meinwen smiled. “Would it be possible to have a tour before we decide?”

“I suppose so.” Lady Shadow stood, revealing a flash of electric blue suit lining. Meinwen followed suit, nudging Dafydd with her foot.

“I haven’t finished my coffee.”

“Never mind the coffee. The lady is waiting.”

“She can wait another minute, surely? Why don’t you talk about knitting or something? Or how much you hate men.”

Lady Shadow cupped his chin in her hands, forcing his head up to look her in the eyes. “Whatever gave you the impression I hated men? Quite the opposite, I assure you. Where would we be without the male of the species?”

“Unable to reach tall shelves or move heavy furniture.” Meinwen smiled. “An old joke.”

“And one probably amusing amongst the vagetarian sect.” Lady Shadow’s face betrayed no hint of humor.” Come. I have a meeting scheduled shortly.” She strode to the door without looking back, seemingly under the assumption that Meinwen and Dafydd would follow.

“Come on.” Meinwen caught his arm and pulled him upright. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“I don’t know what you’re fussing about.” Dafydd rose to his feet, the cup still clutched in his meaty palm. He took a swig and settled it back into the saucer. “Why are you going along with all this female domination rubbish when we all know what you really want is a good shag?”