Gin and Toxic: Murder, She Tasted 3 by Ling Alana

Author:Ling, Alana
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Alana Ling Cosy Mysteries
Published: 2019-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

Eleven

We drove a few blocks up the road and found the hotel in question—a rundown highway hotel that looked to be empty and which everyone in town thought was haunted.

I didn’t know when the rumour had started, but I remembered as a young kid, my friends and I trying more than once to go through reception to explore the haunted rooms, only to be stopped short by the creaky wooden floorboards and the sleepy and creepy receptionist who would snap to attention at the slightest of sounds.

Walking in, I realised not much had changed in the lobby, other than the receptionist, of course. Twigg Hotel was one of the few places in Haven-on-Sea that wasn’t the pride and joy of the residents, and whenever tourists dared to book it, they usually ended up moving to different hotels or leaving town thinking the whole of Haven was weird. Which it was, but in a different way.

Two police officers were standing by reception, with a brunette woman wearing round spectacles in between them. I recognised her as Mathilde Minuit.

She had her hands crossed in front of her chest and her flavour of Côtes du Rhône intoxicated my palate, making my mouth feel dry.

‘Ms. Minuit,’ Daniel said at the top of his voice.

Mathilde tried to escape the two officers to greet the detective but the constables held her in place.

‘Would you stop this? Let me go,’ she said and they did when Daniel gestured them to.

Mathilde stood opposite Daniel, her eyes larger than life, and said, ‘Detective, can you explain what is happening? Why are your men not letting me go?’

‘Ms. Minuit, I thought I advised you that you were not allowed to leave the hotel without letting me know. Care to explain yourself?’

Mathilde crossed her arms again.

‘I couldn’t stay there any longer. With all those toxic people. I was going to let you know. But you were busy. It’s not like I was running away,’ she said. ‘Why are you acting like I’ve committed a crime?’

‘Where were you between seven and eight o’clock this evening?’ Daniel ignored her.

‘I was right here. At this hotel. In my room.’

‘Can anyone confirm that?’ Daniel said, looking at reception.

The receptionist shook his head. He was a younger man with black bags under his eyes, pale white skin and a crooked nose which reminded me of Dracula rather than a real person, which wasn’t helped by his garlicky flavour.

‘That’s because he’s asleep half the time,’ she said.

‘It’s not my fault I’m narcoleptic,’ the man said.

He must have been a family member of the receptionist I remembered sitting behind the desk. Maybe their sleeping problem ran in the family.

Daniel’s body stiffened and he reached behind him.

‘Mathilde Minuit, you are under arrest on suspicion of the death of Ginny Brooks. You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned—’ he started to say while handcuffing one of Mathilde’s hands.

‘Ginny is dead?’ Mathilde shrieked. ‘Oh, mon dieu. C’est impossible.’

She stopped Daniel from putting the second handcuff on and turned to face him.

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