Find The Lady by Jack Gatland

Author:Jack Gatland [Gatland, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-25T16:00:00+00:00

16

SWANKY HOTELS

Leroy hadn’t lent Ellie his car, but what he had done was offer to drive her where she needed to go. Which turned out to be the Kensington Hotel.

Asking Leroy to wait for her, Ellie walked towards the Kensington Hotel’s main entrance, its brick facade a testament to its age and sturdy endurance. The tall, white-framed windows spoke of history, yet were clear and well-maintained. Entering through the glass doors, she was met with a lobby that balanced opulence with wear; marble floors, though not gleaming, held their own under the muted overhead lights. The walls sported mirrors that, while not ornate, added depth to the space and, to the left, in a seating area guests chatted in comfortable armchairs around a fireplace, their murmured conversations blending with the subtle hum of the city outside. Here and there, fresh flower arrangements livened up the space.

The reception desk stood prominently ahead, its dark wood contrasting with the brighter tones of the room. Staff members attended to guests, their motions efficient yet unhurried. Above them, an old clock added its steady ticking to the room’s ambient noise.

Taking everything in, Ellie moved with purpose towards the reception.

‘Hi,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘I’m really sorry, but I’m hoping you can help me.’

The receptionist looked up at this strange woman, still in her running gear.

‘Are you a guest, ma’am?’

‘No, I’m a private investigator,’ Ellie smiled. ‘I’ve been sent by a woman to find out if her husband is having an affair. He’s quite a prominent politician. You would know him if you saw him on TV, and we believe he’s been having his relationships in this hotel.’

‘I couldn’t possibly talk about that, ma’am,’ the receptionist started, and Ellie held her hand up.

‘No, I get that,’ she said. ‘The problem is the press are about to go live with it in about an hour, and unless I can prove it wasn’t in this hotel two days ago, you’re going to have people camped out on your doorstep and it’s going to give you a lot of bad press.’

The receptionist nodded to a man behind her who wandered over. He was tall and wearing a suit, a slight hint of a moustache under his lip. He looked twelve, but was probably in his late twenties.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked. ‘I’m Charles, the duty manager.’

Ellie repeated her lie and reached for her phone.

‘We have a clue,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing major. But it might be something you can help with. He’d written a love letter to his, well, I suppose you’d call her his mistress, on headed notepaper. I think it might be from this hotel, but I’m not sure.’

It was a hunch, but one Ellie was happy to play. The message stabbed onto Zoey’s fake figure had been from some hotel or restaurant, as the headed paper was a hell of a clue to that, and had been quite personal. There was every chance that Flanagan had written it before it was used, maybe even before sending people to Zoey’s apartment.

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