Murder Between the Tides

by Campling Michael

  Alan went to his side. “Have you heard from Edward?”

  “Yes. He’s going to join us at the restaurant.”

  Brian and the others approached them.

  “What’s this?” Dominic asked. “Who’s going to join us?”

  “Edward,” Dan replied. “He said to go ahead without him.”

  “He’s probably too embarrassed to show his face,” Brian said. “After his tantrum this afternoon, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  Dominic wagged a finger at Brian. “Come on now. No more falling out. I expect everyone to be on their best behaviour.”

  “Including Edward?” Roz asked.

  “Definitely.” Dominic checked his watch. “Right, come along everybody. The Johnson twins and their entourage are dining elsewhere this evening, so apart from Edward, we’re all here. Let’s head to the restaurant. Chop chop.”

  Exchanging rueful glances, the group started forward, but Dan hung back. “I should go and check on Edward.”

  “Nonsense!” Dominic looked down his nose at Dan. “You don’t know Edward. He wants to make a dramatic entrance. He’ll come when he’s good and ready, and not a moment before. Now, come on everybody. Move along like good boys and girls or I’ll have to make you walk in pairs and hold hands.” He grinned expectantly, but when no one appreciated his impersonation of a jovial schoolmaster, he let out a dismissive grunt. “We’d better go or they’ll give our table to somebody else.”

  Dominic marched for the door.

  Behind his back, Brian sent a mischievous smile around the group, and lowering his voice, he said, “I blame public school.”

  “I went to public school,” Tim said. “Eton. Not that it matters, but which one did Dominic attend?”

  “He didn’t,” Brian replied. “But he feels as though he ought to have done, and he’s never quite got over it.”

  Outside, the winter evening was bitterly cold and dark as pitch, but the walk to the restaurant was short, and Dan passed the time chatting to Roz. She was reticent at first, perhaps a little wary in case he was analysing her every word, but once she got on to the topic of her work, her reluctance vanished.

  “I’d love to see some of your illustrations,” Dan said.

  Roz grinned. “I’d invite you to my boudoir to see my etchings, but we’ve only just met.”

  “You have a boudoir?” Dan asked. “I’m impressed.”

  “It’s more of a shed at the end of my garden. On a good day, you could call it a log cabin, but it’s nothing glamorous.”

  “And you live locally, yes?”

  Roz nodded. “On the other side of town. I have a little place that stands out on its own. It’s small, but it’s right by the sea, and the light is fantastic.”

  “It’s very handy for you that the retreat is so close to home,” Dan said.

  “Yes.”

  In front of the group, Dominic halted outside the restaurant. “Here we are. Right on time.”

  He strode inside and the others followed, standing in an awkward group as Dominic talked to the young woman behind the counter.

  “We’ve been here before,” Alan said to Dan. “You’ll like it.”

  Brian sidled up to them. “If you like a bit of spice, have the jungle curry. Very hot but very good. You can thank me later.”

  “I might just do that,” Dan replied.

  The young woman plucked a set of menus from the counter, tucking them under her arm. “This way please. Your table’s all ready. Florence will be your server, and she’ll come and take your order in a moment.”

  “Excellent,” Dominic said. “And how appropriate to be waited upon by someone named after such a city. Ah, Firenze! A place that has inspired so many great artists.”

  The young woman smiled uncertainly. “I’m sorry?”

  “Never mind,” Dominic said. “Let us take our places.” He looked back at the door. “Still no sign of Edward. Ah well, he’s being true to form.”

  Their table was large and circular, and they took their seats quickly, Alan sitting on Dan’s left and Roz on his right. Menus were handed around, and Dominic, Tim and Brian all reached into their pockets and produced reading glasses.

  “Alan, I see you haven’t succumbed to myopia,” Tim said as he cleaned the lenses of his glasses on a soft cloth. “You must tell us your secret.”

  “No secret,” Alan replied. “I’m just a bit younger than you.”

  Tim laughed. “As always, you’re refreshingly honest. But it’ll catch up with you. When you stare at a blank page for a decade or so, something’s got to give.”

  “I might get away with it,” Alan said. “My parents still have excellent eyesight, and my grandparents were the same: sharp eyed into their sixties.”

  Tim smiled appreciatively. “You have me beaten there. My father donned specs on his fortieth birthday, and he scarcely took them off until he passed away. Mind you, in his line of work, short-sightedness was an occupational hazard. He was in the House of Lords, you know. And before that, he was a High Court judge, so he was forever poring over one legal tome or another. The man had his head in a book from morning until night.”

  “Perhaps that’s where you got your love of literature,” Alan said.

  “That’s kind of you to say, but he didn’t see any connection between my work and his. I’m afraid Papa was unimpressed with my literary ambitions. In his eyes, the only good thing I ever did was to marry well.”

  “Did he live to see how successful you became?”

  “Oh, yes.” Tim smiled, but here was a gleam of sadness in his eyes.

  Time to change the subject, Alan thought, but he was saved by the arrival of a young woman bearing a tablet computer and a welcoming smile.

  The young woman’s hair was fashioned into a neat bun, and she was dressed in a brightly patterned silky dress that could’ve come straight from Thailand. Her make-up tried valiantly to suggest an almond shape to her eyes, and though it didn’t quite succeed, the effect suited her, perhaps because it drew attention to her most striking feature: her irises were a distinctive shade of hazel.

  “Hello, I’m Florence,” she began, beaming around the group. “Can I get any drinks for—” She stopped abruptly, lowering her gaze, her chest heaving as she took a shaky breath.

  “Are you all right?” Roz asked.

  “No,” Florence murmured without looking up. “I’m sorry, I… I’ve got to go.” She hurried away, almost stumbling as she rushed between the tables. Then she disappeared through a swing door at the back of the restaurant.

  Brian raised his eyebrows. “The poor thing. We must look like an awful bunch.”

  “Perhaps she heard Dominic banging on about Firenze,” Tim said. “That’s enough to make anyone head for the hills.”

  “I didn’t say a word to her,” Dominic replied. “I was busy studying the wine list. But this kind of thing is typical of young people these days. They have no attention span, no work ethic, no spine.” He grew more irritated as he spoke, slapping the table with his palm to punctuate his words. “And another thing — where’s Edward? That’s what I’d like to know. This really isn’t good enough. It’s appalling behaviour!” Turning in his seat, he raised his voice. “I say, can we have some service over here, please? Hungry people. Thank you.”

  Dan shook his head in disbelief. Generally, he tried not to take an instant dislike to anyone, but in Dominic’s case, it was hard to see an alternative. The man was arrogant, rude and consumed with self-importance. It would be good to get away from him for a while.

  To Alan, Dan said, “Can you order me the jungle curry with tempeh and some jasmine rice? Oh, and a beer. Whatever you’re having.”

  “Sure,” Alan replied. “But why?”

  “I’m going to pop back to the hotel. I probably won’t be long.”

  “Did you forget something?”

  Dan stood, grabbing his coat. “No. But I want to check on Edward.” To everyone else, Dan said, “I’ll be back soon.”
Then he headed outside.

  As he walked, Dan called Edward’s phone, redialling when it went to voicemail. And on the third attempt, the call was picked up.

  “Hello?” Edward said, his voice faint and strained.

  “Hi. It’s Dan. I’m on my way back to the hotel.”

  “Don’t do that. There’s no point. It’s too late.”

  Dan walked faster, taking longer strides. He was almost back at the hotel. “Edward, where are you? Are you still in your room?”

  He waited. He could hear Edward breathing.

  “Edward, don’t do anything. Wait until I get there.” Dan was running now, dashing into the hotel lobby. But then he heard something on the phone, and he skidded to a halt. It had sounded like a wave crashing against a beach, but it might’ve been a rush of air hissing across the microphone. “Edward, are you outside?”

  But the only reply was a murmured shush that could’ve been the breeze or a sigh of despair. And then silence.

  “Oh my God!” Dan breathed.

  “Is there a problem, sir?”

  Matthew was watching him from behind the reception desk. “Are you all right, Mr Corrigan? Do you need anything?”

  “Yes. I need to find Edward Hatcher. Did you see him go out?”

  Matthew shook his head firmly. “No, sir. I’ve been on the desk for a few hours, and I saw him go up to his room this afternoon, but I don’t think he’s been out again, although…”

  “What?”

  “He could’ve slipped past without me seeing. I’ve been quite busy with one thing and another.”

  “Right. In that case, I might need you to let me into his room. But first, let me check something. Don’t go away.” Dan hurried outside. The street was deserted, and Dan cursed under his breath. But as he turned back to the hotel, a figure edged into view, a pale face peeping around the hotel’s corner. Got you! Dan sprinted to the corner, and as he’d hoped the figure did not disappear.

  The journalist leaned against the wall, his camera on its strap and his phone in his hand.

  “How long have you been here?” Dan demanded.

  “I dunno. Hours. Why?”

  “Because…” Dan hesitated. “Listen, what’s your name? What paper do you work for?”

  “I don’t have to answer your questions. What’s going on?”

  “We’ll get to that. If you help me, I might be able to help you. But first, I want to know your name.”

  “All right. I’m Charlie. Charlie Heath. And I’m freelance.”

  “Okay, Charlie, this is important. I need to know if Edward Hatcher has left the hotel.”

  “Of course he hasn’t. If he’d gone, I wouldn’t be standing around here freezing my nuts off. He’s still inside.”

  “Oh God!” Dan breathed. Edward had sounded as if he was outside. Had he climbed out of a window?

  Dan ran back to the entrance, his mind a whirl of unwanted images.

  “Hey!” Charlie yelled. “You said you’d give me something.”

  But Dan didn’t look back.

  Inside, he jogged to the reception desk. Matthew stood in front of the desk, a woman in her twenties at his side, their heads together as they talked, their voices hushed and urgent. But when Matthew saw Dan, he broke off his conversation, stepping smartly back like a child caught standing too close to a tray of freshly baked cookies.

  “Mr Corrigan, you really must tell me what the problem is.”

  “I don’t know,” Dan replied. “But I’m worried about Edward Hatcher. I’m pretty sure he’s still somewhere in the hotel, but we’ll start with his room. Let’s go.”

  “I have to stay on the desk, but Daphne will take you up.” Matthew indicated the woman. “Daphne’s one of our housekeepers, and she’ll have to be the one who goes into the room. I hope you understand.”

  “Fine. Whatever. But we have to go right now.”

  Matthew nodded to Daphne. “Off you go. But remember what I told you.” He sent her a warning look.

  “All right, I know,” Daphne said. “This way, sir.”

  She led Dan up the stairs to the fifth floor, and picking up on his sense of urgency, she hurried along the corridor until they reached a wooden door marked, The Regency Suite.

  Daphne knocked on the door. “Mr Hatcher. I need to service the room. Can I come in?”

  “Open it,” Dan said.

  “I have to ask first. He could be doing anything.”

  Dan forced his voice to stay calm. “Just open it. Please.”

  “All right. You’ll have to stay out here though.” Daphne knocked once more, calling out Edward’s name, then she slid her keycard briefly into the slot, and very slowly she pushed the door open. “Mr Hatcher? Are you there? Mr Hatcher?” She stepped into the room, and Dan caught the door before it swung shut, then he followed her inside.

  “You have to wait!” Daphne hissed.

  But Dan shook his head. “He’s not here. He’s cleared out.”

  “Mr Hatcher is very neat and tidy. His room always looks like this. And anyway, I’ve got to check the bathroom.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Cautiously, Daphne opened the bathroom door and peered in. Then she let out a sigh of relief.

  “Is he there?” Dan asked.

  “No. And I’m glad he isn’t. There’s nothing worse than walking in on a man when he’s in the bathroom.”

  “Yes, there is.” Dan crossed to the nearest window. The sash window was tall, but it was closed, and the catch was still in place. He checked the second window, but although the catch was undone, when he tried to lift the window, it moved only a little then it stopped, halted by a short length of white cable locked to the frame. “Are all the upstairs windows locked like this?”

  Daphne nodded. “Health and safety. We don’t want anybody falling out, or…” her hand went to her mouth. “You don’t think he’s done something like that, do you?”

  “I don’t know. Is there a fire escape?”

  “No. There are fire doors, and we’ve got emergency exits on the ground floor, but if anyone opens a fire exit, the alarm goes off.”

  “He must’ve slipped out a back way,” Dan said. “He could’ve gone out through the kitchens or something.”

  “Why would he do that?” Daphne asked. “He could walk out the front whenever he wanted.” She looked at Dan wide eyed, but it was an affectation; she had something to conceal.

  “What do you know, Daphne?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s not true, is it?” Dan said. “Come on. Tell me. It could be important.”

  “It’s nothing really, but I know there’s a reporter hanging around, and Matthew reckons he’s here on account of Mr Hatcher. I can’t see what all the fuss is about. I mean, I’d never heard of him until he turned up.”

  “I want you to call down to reception. Ask everyone to be on the lookout for Mr Hatcher. I have to find out how he left the hotel and when.”

  “Hang on.” Daphne went to the wardrobe and opened it. “His suitcases were in here this morning. I saw them when I cleaned the room. Now they’re gone, and they were big. Matthew strained his back lugging them up here, and he didn’t even get a tip. He wasn’t happy about that, I can tell you.”

  “Then Edward can’t have gone through the kitchen, he’d have been too conspicuous.” Dan ran his hands through his hair. This was becoming ridiculous. Edward had said he’d meet them for dinner, and now he’d disappeared, luggage and all. And his voice on the phone had been heavy with despair, all trace of his usual ebullience gone.

  Dan tried calling Edward again, but his call went straight to voicemail.

  Edward was gone. And something was wrong. Something was very wrong indeed.

  CHAPTER 8

  Dan waited in the hotel’s lobby, sitting calmly on a leather sofa and using the time to gather his thoughts. He’d already called Alan, and it wasn’t long before his neighbour arrived, a plastic carrier bag dangling from his hand.

 
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Dan said. “I’m sorry to spoil your dinner, but I need your help.”

  “It’s all right. I got our food to go.” Alan laid the bag on the coffee table as he sat down on a sofa facing Dan. “You said it was important, so here I am.”

  “What did you tell the others?”

  “As instructed, I told them very little. I said you weren’t feeling well, then I left as soon as I could.” He looked at Dan expectantly. “This is the point at which you explain.”

  “It’s Edward. He’s gone.”

  “You mean, he’s checked out?”

  Dan shook his head. “He’s just disappeared. He took his luggage, but he didn’t tell anyone he was leaving, and somehow he managed to leave the hotel without being seen. It would’ve been relatively easy for him to slip past the receptionist, but that journalist was outside, and he swears Edward didn’t leave the hotel.”

  “All right. That’s odd, but I get the impression that Edward tends to be a bit dramatic. It’s a strange way to behave, but it isn’t sinister.”

  “There’s something else,” Dan replied. “I called Edward when I left the restaurant, and when I said I was coming to the hotel to find him, he said, ‘Don’t do that. It’s too late.’ Something like that, anyway.”

  “How did he sound?”

  “Depressed, as if he was resigned to his fate. And I’m pretty sure he was outside. I thought I heard the waves, but maybe it was something else.”

  Alan ran his hand along his jaw. “This isn’t good. It’s getting cold out there.” He hesitated. “Has anyone called the police?”

  “I have, and they said they’d make a note and watch out for him. But as far as we know, Edward isn’t at risk. They thought he’d probably decided to leave for some reason of his own, and they said I should call again if he doesn’t turn up.”

  “We should go and look for him.” Alan stood, grabbing the bag of food. “We can ditch this, get something later. Let’s go.”

  Dan pushed himself to his feet. “I thought we could try the beach where I found him earlier. I don’t know how he could get there without being seen, but it’s the only lead I’ve got.”