LEFT TO HIDE by Blake Pierce

Author:Blake Pierce [Pierce, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-22T00:00:00+00:00

***

“And who, exactly, are you again?” the man said, stiff-backed and straight-nosed. He peered down his long Roman nose, eyeing Adele with the severest of displeasure.

“I’m Agent Sharp—I work with Interpol, and I’m investigating the murders of Mr. and Mrs. Beneveti. I was told you’re their concierge.”

The man sniffed, arms crossed. “So what if I am?”

Adele leaned with one arm against the doorframe to the man’s small office. She’d managed to track down the concierge easily enough. Turned out, the information desk was more than helpful when faced with the threat of obstruction.

“I don’t know if you can tell,” he said, clearing his throat, “but I’m quite busy.” He adjusted the glasses on the edge of his nose and turned back to his desk, clacking away on his keyboard once more as if Adele hadn’t interrupted.

She gave him a moment, but when the concierge didn’t turn to address her, she took this as permission to enter his office, striding across the room and plopping on the edge of his desk.

“Hey!” he exclaimed. “Careful—you’ll wrinkle those forms!”

Adele’s eyes widened, and she made a big show of tugging at the paper files she’d “accidentally” sat on. “Oh? Silly me, so sorry!”

She pulled the form from beneath her thigh and dropped it in the man’s lap. It fluttered, and looped, and then veered off to land on the carpet.

The concierge stooped over the grab it. As he did, Adele quickly reached out and yanked out the display cord leading from his computer to the monitor. The man sat back up, then exclaimed again as he was confronted with a black screen.

“What are you doing!” he said. “Please, I really must insist—”

“Phil, hang on—look, can I call you Phil?”

“My name is Philip,” the man said, crossly. He reluctantly looked away from the blank monitor to glare up at Adele, giving another sniff.

“Right, Philip the concierge. The concierge to Mr. and Mrs. Beneveti, am I right?”

“You still haven’t said who told you that.”

“No, I guess I haven’t. Let’s trade information. You start.”

Philip sighed and pushed back a bit in his chair, distancing himself from where Adele sat on his desk. At least he was no longer ignoring her. “I don’t know what you want,” he said. “I told you, there’s nothing in particular—”

“Phil,” said Adele, “I know Mr. and Mrs. Beneveti were your clients. I know that if they booked something through the resort, it would go through you. Why waste my time and yours? You seem like a busy man. Lots of clients? Not commission based, I hope, though I wouldn’t be surprised if end of the year bonuses reflected client satisfaction, am I right?”

The concierge’s frown now creased the entirety of his face, casting it in shadow. “I don’t know who you’ve been speaking too. But I hope you can see why it’s important I don’t divulge the personal details of my clients.”

“Mhmm, right,” said Adele, “I get it. Really, I do. The only thing here, though, is that a man as busy as you might not want to be stuck in your office all day.

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