Iscariot: A Novel by Evan J. Pearson

Author:Evan J. Pearson [Pearson, Evan J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2024-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

FANGS

Ding! I rang the bell at the front desk of a seedy-looking hotel in the Gothic Quarter. The hotel maintained the same Gothic style of architecture as its neighbouring buildings but tinges of mould and an abundance of graffiti had diminished its once beautiful facade. There was no valet, no doorman… you wouldn’t even know it was a hotel if you hadn’t found the address on the internet, as I did. This place could not boast more than two or three stars and would soon likely be sold, gutted, or levelled. If I were Priestly, it’s exactly the kind of place I’d want to stay. It was within close proximity to the museum and very inconspicuous. After ringing the bell of nearly every hotel in the Quarter, my search had come up dry thus far. This place, however, seemed as though it might hold promise.

Within a few moments, the concierge emerged from the back.

“Good afternoon,” he said.

“Afternoon,” I replied. “Could you phone up to Mr. Priestly’s room for me, please?

The concierge punched ‘Priestly’ into the guest directory on his computer.

“Hmm…” he said. “Is that a first or last name?” he asked.

“Last.”

“Does this Priestly have a first name?” he asked deadpan.

I was forced to think on my feet as I skirted the question and attempted to present as well-intentioned. “I’m positive he told me the other night when we met but we’d had a few drinks and I seem to have forgotten.”

“Let me see,” said the concierge, as he punched more buttons. I stood awkwardly silent as I waited a long moment for the verdict. “Nope. Sorry,” he finally said. “No one by the name of Priestly is staying with us,” he declared. “Are you sure he said he was staying here, sir?”

I shrugged. “I must be mistaken,” I said as I turned to leave, grabbing a book of matches that sat on the desk, which were free to take. I didn’t think I needed them, but the matchbook contained the hotel’s address and business inquiry details — acting as a sort of business card — and I didn’t want to leave empty-handed and appear rude. I deduced the matchbooks were free given the number of smokers hanging outside of the lobby. Surely, they won’t miss this one. “Sorry to have been a bother,” I added.

I headed for the door and soon pushed through it, stepping back out onto the temporarily quiet street. The high afternoon sun was concealed behind the tall palatial buildings surrounding the decaying hotel. I tucked the matchbook into my jacket pocket and grabbed my phone. I dialled the museum and waited a moment for an answer. I reached the automated answering machine—

“Thank you for calling the Barcelona History Museum. If you know the extension you wish to reach—”

Beep. I punched in Stella’s extension and waited while it rang.

“Hello?” Stella soon answered.

“It’s me,” I said. “My search is coming up dry.”

“Nothing? No leads at all?” she asked in surprise.

“Nothing,” I replied. “I’ve tried every hotel in the Quarter, no one has seen or heard of this man.

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.