Murder at the Seaside by Brian Gee

Author:Brian Gee [Gee, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Stevie awoke with a start. For a split second he thought he was back in the Travelodge in Eastbourne again. The panic that gripped his stomach as these thoughts went through his mind was soon overtaken by the knowledge of what had actually happened the day before, and he felt sick. He went into the bathroom and retched in the toilet bowl. All that came up was pungent yellow bile, as he hadn’t eaten since Monday evening . He stared into the bowl and watched the evil-smelling mess moving around, realising what he had done.

It hadn’t affected him at all the day before.

Stevie had known what his plan was, and once he had started, there wasn’t a moment to sit and think about it; he had to keep going. Once he’d arrived back at his car, he had driven almost on autopilot to Ashford and had checked in, showered and gone straight to bed, where he had slept a deep sleep without waking until now. He realised he needed food, and he also needed to carry on as if nothing untoward had happened. His meeting with the regional manager was at eleven, and he knew he had to be on the ball by then.

He had yet another shower, hoping that it would also remove any last memories of his actions, put on his favourite suit and wandered over to Table Table Restaurant, which was attached to the Premier Inn. They did a good buffet breakfast there, and that was what he needed. Stevie wouldn’t normally bother, since he could claim the nine pounds back, and he would buy a cheap sandwich instead, but today was different. He gave his room number to the young girl at the entrance and walked in. He ordered coffee and then went over to the food in the buffet area. He loaded his plate up with one of everything, including black pudding. As he put it on his plate, he remembered it was made from pig’s blood, and for a split second he pictured Bethany’s blood running into the bath, but he then cleared his mind and sat down for breakfast.

He really was hungry and the plateful was soon gone. He spread some butter and marmalade on the last piece of toast, poured himself a third cup of coffee and then sat back and contemplated what he had done.

He knew he was now a murderer but didn’t feel bad about it. He reminded himself again that if he had reported it to the police straight away, he would have been done for murder anyway. A middle-aged man with a young girl dead in his hotel room; he would never have been believed if he’d said it was an accident. In their eyes, he would have been guilty from the minute he made the phone call.

He knew there was no direct connection between him and Bethany. Nobody had seen them in Pevensey Bay, and everyone in the pub had been too drunk to notice. If,

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