Lancashire Hotpot Peril: Albert Smith's Culinary Capers Recipe 9 by Steve Higgs

Author:Steve Higgs [higgs, steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-15T16:00:00+00:00

Guilty

It was close to one in the morning when the black-clad figure peered around the edge of the door leading out from the stairwell. It was a time when he felt sure everyone in the hotel would be asleep and he could realistically go about his task without being caught.

There was no security camera – there couldn’t be, or they would have caught him either taking the key two days ago or putting it back yesterday afternoon. Since they hadn’t, it stood to reason no one knew.

The old man’s words chimed in his head again - his DNA was on the stupid key. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

Checking around in every direction, despite believing he was utterly alone in the hotel’s reception area, he sidled out from behind the door and closed it gently and carefully behind him. In a few minutes, he would be back in his bed and safe from the minimal chance the police might knock on his door.

He didn’t need to be answering uncomfortable questions or finding himself implicated or suspected of having a hand in Chris Caan’s death. His life was already enough of a mess without any additional drama.

The door to the reception was locked. It hadn’t been on the previous occasions but that had been during the day when the reception was manned. To both get the key and return it, he’d taken swift advantage of the desk being temporarily unmanned. The second time had been when the police were here. He’d gotten away with it then, and he would again now.

That’s what he told himself as he nimbly vaulted onto the reception desk. There, he paused because he thought he heard something and listened intently for several seconds. Squinting into the darkness, he dismissed it as his imagination and dropped down to the tile on the other side.

Like the door to reception, the box on the wall where all the keys hung on their little hooks was locked.

That presented something of a problem, but it was one he’d anticipated and had arrived prepared for. All the film crew guys carried a few tools with them; they came in handy all the time.

A large, flat-tipped screwdriver would do the trick. The damage would be discovered in the morning, but they wouldn’t know who had taken the missing key and he was wearing gloves this time so there would be no fingerprints or DNA left behind.

The door to the cabinet popped open with minimal effort. Then, using his torch, he found the key he wanted, removed it from its hook with his glove-covered hands, and slipped it into his pocket.

Pushing the little door closed once more, he wondered if maybe he should take all the keys. That might make it look less suspicious – it wouldn’t be just the key to the dead man’s room that was targeted.

He didn’t get to finish making his decision on the matter for the lights flicked on before his heart could beat again. Bathed in light like

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