Death at St Paul's Cathedral (London Cosy Mysteries Book 5) by Rachel McLean & Millie Racensworth

Author:Rachel McLean & Millie Racensworth [McLean, Rachel & Racensworth, Millie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ackroyd Publishing
Published: 2024-06-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Zaf went round to the hostel before classes the next day.

Arpinder didn’t look happy as he pulled a room key from a drawer. “We have a room for you.”

Zaf smiled, wondering what had changed. Had Diana had a word with someone?

He led Zaf upstairs to the floor where he’d rushed to help a few days ago. Even as Arpinder led him along the corridor, Zaf knew where they were going.

“This room, eh?” he said. It was Marek’s old room.

Arpinder’s smile faded. “I’m so sorry. You will not want to take this room. I will see what I can —”

“—It’s fine,” Zaf told him.

It didn’t feel completely fine, but Zaf knew he shouldn’t let squeamishness or superstition rule his life. If the only room available was the one recently vacated by a dead man, he was sure he could overcome his qualms.

Arpinder left him to settle in and Zaf sized up the space. He would go and fetch his bags from Bev’s and make this little space his base of operations.

He opened the wardrobe and each of the drawers, mainly for something to do. The police would have removed everything of Marek’s. As he closed the drawer he caught the ghost of a scent, just the faintest trace. He realised he remembered it from when he’d been here before. It was the smell that Marek had brought with him, presumably. The citrus notes had faded, leaving the woody part of the scent. It was a sophisticated scent for someone who was essentially a homeless criminal. In fact, it reminded Zaf slightly of Alexsei. It wasn’t the same smell, but its understated opulence suggested it might be part of the same family of scents.

Zaf relaxed a little, trying to replace the image of Marek the sweat-drenched corpse with Marek the man who wore expensive cologne. If he was to inherit the man’s living quarters then that would be a much more pleasing impression.

He supposed that Marek Bogacki had not always been that grubby homeless individual. At some point he’d have been a man with pride and affectations and things that brought him joy. Zaf had never experienced true homelessness, but had come startlingly close in his first months in London. He knew a life on the streets was only a hop, skip and a fall away for many people.

Every homeless person was two people: the person they had been and the person they had become. If Zaf was to remember Marek then he would try to picture the other man, the man he had been before.

Zaf went to classes feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. If, by moving into the hostel, he could give Beverley and Diana a little bit of space back, he was sure it would make their lives a little easier. Of course, that left the gaping chasm of a problem that was him and Alexsei. How could he rebuild a connection with the man he loved while that man stood passively by

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