Gristhorpe stuck to bacon and eggs and wished he

hadn’t. Between them, they shared a rack of cold toast

and a pot of weak instant coffee.

Gristhorpe felt grumpy. He hadn’t slept well; the mattress had been too soft, and his back was bothering him. The breakfast didn’t help either, he realized, feeling the onset of heartburn.

“I dropped in at the hotel bar for a nightcap yesterday,” he said, pushing the plate aside and pouring more coffee. “Thought I might be able to get something out of the regulars.”

“And?” asked Banks, pulling a bone from the corner of his mouth.

292

“Nothing much. There’s a couple from Wolver hampton staying the week, and they said the Barlows, as they called themselves, were in once or twice. Always pleasant. You know, nodded and said hello, but never got into any conversations. The missis thought they were a honeymoon couple.”

“You know,” said Banks, “he’s really starting to get on my nerves, Chivers. He turns up somewhere, goes around smiling like Mr Clean, and people die.”

“What do you expect?”

“It’s just his bloody nerve. It’s as if he’s challenging us, playing catch-meifyou-can.”

“Aye, I know what you mean,” said Gristhorpe, with a scowl. “And we won’t catch him sitting here picking at this fine English cuisine. Come on.” He pushed his plate away and stood up abruptly, leaving Banks to follow suit.

The hotel manager had provided a small room on the ground floor for them to conduct interviews. First, they read over the statements that DI Loder and his men had taken from the hotel staff, then asked to see Meg Wayne, the chambermaid.

She looked no older than fourteen or fifteen, a frightened schoolgirl with her uniform and starched cap that couldn’t quite contain her abundant golden hair. She had a pale, clear complexion, and with a couple of red spots on her cheeks, Gristhorpe thought, she could probably pass herself off as one of Tess’s milkmaid friends in Hardy’s book. Her Dorset burr was even more pronounced than Loder’s, her voice soft and surprisingly low.

“Mr Ballard, the manager, said I could take the day off,” she said, “but I don’t see the point, do you? I mean, the rooms need doing every day no matter what happens, and I could certainly do with the money.”

“Still,” said Gristhorpe, “it must have been a shock?”

“Oh yes. I’ve never seen a dead body before. Only on telly, like.”

“Tell us what you saw yesterday, Meg.”

“We-ell, I opens the door as usual, and as soon as I does I knows something’s wrong.”

“Were the curtains open?”

“Part way. Enough to see by.”

“And the window?”

“Open a bit. It was chilly.” She fiddled with a set of room keys on her lap as she spoke.

“Did you go into the room?”

“Not right in. I just stood in the doorway, like, and I could see her there on the bed, with her head all covered up.”

“Tell me exactly what you saw,” said Gristhorpe. He knew that people tend to embellish on what they have observed. He also wanted to be certain that Loder and his SOCO team had restored the room to the way it had been when Meg opened the door. He grimaced and rubbed his stomach; the heartburn was getting worse.

“It looked like just twisted sheets at first,” she said, “but then, when my eyes grew more accustomed, I could tell it was someone under there. A shape.” She blushed and looked down at her lap. “A woman’s shape. And the pillow was over her head, so I knew she was … dead.”

“It’s all right, Meg,” said Gristhorpe. “I know it’s upsetting. We won’t be much longer.”

Meg nodded and took a deep breath.

“Did you see the woman’s face?”

“No. No, I just knew it was a woman by the outline of the sheets.”

“Did you disturb anything in the room?”

“Nothing. Like I told Mr Loder, I ran straight off to Mr Ballard and he sent for the police. That’s God’s honest truth, sir.”

“I believe you,” said Gristhorpe. “We just have to make certain. You must have been upset. Maybe there’s something you forgot?”

“No, sir.”

“All right. Did you ever see the people who were staying in that room?”

“Not as far as I know. I don’t see many guests, sir. I have to do my job when they’re out.”

“Of course. Now think, Meg, try to remember, was there anything else about the scene that struck you at the time?”

Meg squeezed her eyes shut and fiddled with the keys. Finally, she looked at Gristhorpe again. “Just how tidy it was, sir. I mean, you wouldn’t believe the mess some guests leave you to clean up. Not that I mind, like. I know they pay for the service and it’s my job, but…”

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