Her Last Breath by Hilary Davidson

Author:Hilary Davidson [Davidson, Hilary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2021-06-30T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

THEO

The Thraxton hotel in Berlin was on Museum Island, a small patch of land sitting in the middle of the river Spree. It was as far east from the Brandenburg Gate as the Tiergarten’s Victory Column was west, and I took a taxi to get there quickly. That provided an accidental sightseeing tour of the grand boulevard of Unter den Linden, with its neoclassical opera house and the imposing Humboldt University. This was a deviation from my plan to walk the streets I’d known as a student in Berlin, because I’d rarely visited this area in those days. But as I’d stared at my old apartment building, the certainty that another person had been in the room had only grown. I didn’t think it was my sister; I couldn’t remember seeing Juliet until I was carried onto the private plane that took me to rehab. Someone else had carried me onto the plane; Juliet was already there. I’d gotten a decent look at the man’s face as he’d strapped me into a seat. It hadn’t been Klaus, with his distinctive shock of white hair and huge belly. It was a man I couldn’t remember ever seeing before.

The taxi deposited me beside the Lustgarten—a name I’d snickered at as a student; it translated as “Pleasure Garden”—which was across from the cathedral. If I’d been in the city as a tourist, I would’ve loved nothing more than to head north. That way lay the Pergamon Museum with its Babylonian, Assyrian, and Roman treasures; the Neues—or New—Museum, with its bounty from Egypt and Troy; and the smaller Bode Museum, with its Byzantine art and assortment of curious collections. But I took a deep breath and headed south.

The Thraxton International property was a grand fantasy of a building that had its own moat, as if it were a castle. It was largely glass and metal—like all of my family’s hotels—but with baroque touches that included steel gargoyles with gleaming fangs.

Inside, I asked at the desk for the manager. It was a happy surprise when Pierre Dorval appeared, dressed in a sharp navy suit, and kissed me on the cheek. He was in his midforties and one of the most casually elegant humans I knew, with a mane of curly chestnut hair that fanned out like a halo. “I’m sorry, I know people hate that since the pandemic. But I am—what do you Americans call it—a hugger!”

“It’s good to see you,” I said, meaning it. “I had no idea you were in Berlin now.” Pierre had been managing the Thraxton hotel in Paris when I’d left the company.

“The opportunity came up a year ago, and I grabbed it,” Pierre said. “My husband is from Copenhagen, so he was thrilled. I am—what do you call it—‘living the dream.’ What brings you to Berlin?” He clapped his hand over his mouth. “Oh, Theo, I just remembered Caroline. I am so very sorry. She was the most wonderful person. The news does not feel real yet.”

“It’s been an awful time.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.