‘What is it you’ve not been telling us?’
‘What do you want me to tell you? The room was on the third floor, I’m on the ground floor. Two people come in, they pay for a room. She’s attractive, he’s older.’
‘You didn’t think it suspicious?’
‘We’re a hotel. If they pay their money, don’t steal the contents from the minibar, what is there to be suspicious about?’
‘You were watching couples in their rooms.’
‘Who said I did?’
‘Don’t deny it.’
‘Sometimes, when it’s quiet, I like to look around.’
‘Small hole in the wall?’
‘Yes.’
‘You couldn’t resist Helen Langdon. The woman was beautiful, not like the women who normally came in, not like Daisy.’
‘The hotel was quiet. I sneak away for a few minutes. I had the key to the next room. There’s a small hole in the wall behind a picture.’
‘What did you see?’
‘The two of them in bed.’
‘Sleeping?’
‘Screwing.’
‘You’re excited, enjoying the spectacle. Then what happens.’
‘The bell on reception goes. I’ve got a remote that beeps. I leave them to it.’
‘How much longer before they’re dead?’
‘According to your people, fifteen minutes, maybe thirty.’
‘At the reception, what do you find?’
‘Another woman with her customer.’
You give them a key?’
‘She’s a regular. I know she’ll fix up the money later, and besides, the man looks as if he’s in need of her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s pawing her, trying to kiss her.’
‘Her reaction?’
‘She’s playing along. The man looks as if he’s got money.’
‘Who was the woman?’
‘Daisy’s flatmate.’
‘Gwendoline?’
‘That’s her. She’s been in the hotel more often than Daisy.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us this before?’
‘Tell you what? You were looking for a man, not a prostitute.’
‘And you didn’t want us to find out about your snooping.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘Nothing. We’ve got to find this woman. Does she stand on a street corner near here?’
‘The same places as Daisy.’
Larry left the man and phoned Wendy. ‘Meet me in Bayswater. We need to find Daisy’s flatmate, Gwendoline. You know her better than me.’
***
Larry and Wendy drove around the area looking for the usual spots where the women congregated. Gwendoline was nowhere to be seen. Eventually, the two of them visited the brothels in the area. Around the back of Paddington Station, they found the prostitute. She was sitting on a leather sofa on the first floor of a brothel. On either side of her were two other women; one was South American, the other looked Asian.
‘They’re probably in this country illegally,’ Wendy said.
‘We’re here for Gwendoline, not them.’
‘What do you want?’ Daisy’s flatmate said.
‘We’ve some questions for you.’
‘I’m busy, come back later.’
‘Later doesn’t work for us,’ Larry said. He could see the woman was agitated. She was wearing a dress so short that her underwear was visible. She was not wearing a bra.
‘Five minutes, that’s all I can give you.’
‘We need you down at the police station. You can go like that or do you want to change?’
‘I don’t want any trouble in here,’ the madam of the brothel said. Wendy saw a woman in her fifties, almost certainly an ex-prostitute. In the corner of her mouth a cigarette, its ash ready to fall on the floor.
‘It’s not as good as the hotel you used to use,’ Wendy said to Gwendoline.
‘It’s safer here.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Daisy, she was murdered, and then those two in that room at the hotel.’
‘Did you use that room?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Gwendoline, I don’t want the police in here,’ the madam said. ‘Go with them, come back later.’
The prostitute picked up her coat and left with Larry and Wendy. She complained, although no one was listening. At Challis Street, she was placed in one of the interview rooms and given a cup of tea, as well as some biscuits. ‘I’m hungry,’ she said.
‘Pizza?’
‘Hawaiian.’
Twenty-five minutes later, with the woman fed, Larry and Wendy commenced the interview.
‘You were in the hotel on the night of the murders in room 346.’
‘A waste of time for me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m doing a favour for Daisy. She says the man pays well, and he’ll see me right.’
‘Why didn’t she take him?’
‘She wasn’t feeling well, and the man phoned at the last minute.’
‘You agreed?’
‘Why not? I met him at the hotel, and we went up to the room.’
‘Which room?’
‘The one opposite the murders.’
‘What happened?’
‘He gave me a drink. I wake up three hours later.’
‘Was the drink drugged?’
‘I suppose so. Anyway, I’ve got a throbbing headache. I put on my clothes and leave the hotel, that bastard on the door wanting his money, as well.’
‘Your customer, did he pay you?’
‘No.’
‘There’s a murder in the room opposite. You’re unconscious, the man you’re with has disappeared. Doesn’t that sound coincidental to you?’
‘I don’t get involved, the first rule for people like me. We don’t ask for their life story, or whether life has treated them bad or good. We’re not a confessional, either. It’s sex and out of the door.’
‘Did this man murder Helen Langdon and James Holden?’ Larry asked.
‘He could have killed me,’ Gwendoline said.
‘You were his way into the hotel. Did the concierge see you downstairs?’
‘He did.’
‘Describe this man?’
‘What’s to describe. I don’t check them out, prefer to look away.’
‘Regardless of whether you look or not, what can you tell us about him?’
‘Average height, white. He spoke well.’
‘Did he give a name?’
‘Dennis, but that’s probably not his name.’
‘Why?’
‘Most of them make up a fancy name. Somehow it helps them to deal with the guilt.’
‘Is that why you’re Gwendoline instead of Kate Bellamy?’
‘The
