by C. A. Larmer
Leon looked surprised. “Yes, the Swiss army have a patrol base and they carry out exercises up here, but nothing for you to worry about.”
“Didn’t you also mention there was a ‘military contingent’ staying in the hotel when Max was here?”
“Yes, there was, still is in fact. They were at dinner last night, in case you didn’t see them. But I fail to see what this has to do with your friend.”
“I know that Max took some photos while he was here and was asked to delete them. Can you tell me why?”
He blinked several times and took a moment before he answered. “I don’t think it’s relevant to his disappearance.”
“Well, I’ll be the judge of that. What did he photograph, Leon? I need to know.”
The manager appeared to wrestle with his thoughts for a few more seconds then he sighed heavily. “He took some pictures of a military exercise. It is top secret, of course. We explained this to him, asked him to remove the images and he was happy to oblige.”
“Happy?”
“Yes, this was a matter of national security. He understood.”
“What kind of military exercise?”
He smiled at her like she was a naughty child. “As I say, top secret.”
Roxy considered this and then tried a different tack. “Does the Swiss army own this mountain, this hotel?”
“No, no they do not. The railway owns it. They lease the land to the army. This is public knowledge.”
“Not top secret then?” she said and he offered her a wry smile. “How do I know that Max didn’t see something he shouldn’t have seen and ... well ...”
Leon’s smile deepened. “And, what, got ‘bumped off’?” She blushed and he leaned back in his chair, looking more relaxed. “Ms Parker, we often have guests asking us if this is the hotel used in one of the James Bond movies, yes?”
She nodded. They had wondered the same thing themselves.
“We may look like a 007 location, but there are no licenses to kill here. Your Max simply violated our confidentiality clause.”
“What confidentiality clause?”
“You signed it when you checked in.”
“I did?”
“It was on the reservation form.” He waved a few skinny fingers in the air. “It is no big deal. It simply stipulates that you will not trespass on military property—which when you walk around the site today you will see signs are well posted at various intervals. It says you will not photograph said sites as well. It is not that we think Mr Farrell had photographed anything of any interest. It is just protocol. All military bases around the world have such protocol. I think, even those in your country, Ms Parker.”
“I didn’t think the Swiss got involved in military type behaviour,” she replied, thinking of their fence-sitting during both World Wars. “Don’t you guys prefer to stay neutral?”
“We do not fight other people’s wars, this is true, but we do take part in peace-keeping missions. We have a very proud military tradition in this country. In fact, unlike yours, or even America for that matter, it is compulsory for all Swiss men of a certain age to do periodic military training. I can assure you, we take our armed forces very seriously. After all, we are the ones who invented the Swiss Army Knife, yes?” He thought that was quite amusing but Roxy wasn’t laughing.
“So, the soldiers that I’ve seen around here ...?”
“They are in training.”
“And the satellite dishes?”
“All part of the base. I think you will find such things at any base anywhere on the planet.” He sighed again. “I am sorry to disappoint you, really I am. I know you are looking for answers, trying to find your dear friend. But I do believe you are looking in all the wrong places.”
“Well, where do you think I should be looking?”
He stood up. “That is not for me to say. Perhaps this is less to do with war and more to do with love.”
Before she could question him further, he said, “Ah, here is Ms Farrell now.” Leon waved towards Caroline who was just stepping out of the elevator staring about. “Will you allow me to escort you to breakfast?”
Roxy stood up. “No thank you, Leon. I’m sure we can find our own way there.”
She flashed him a “this ain’t finished yet” look then made her way across to Caroline who had her stunned mullet face on, along with last night’s trousers and a crumpled black T-shirt.
“You okay?” Roxy asked and Caroline groaned.
“Jetlag. I think it’s finally hit. Feel like my brain’s been hijacked and replaced with a bowl of mashed potato.”
“Couldn’t have anything to do with the six glasses of champagne you put away last night?”
Caroline scoffed. “Oh that’s small fry for me.” She scowled at Roxy. “How come you’re so sprightly?”
Roxy shrugged. “My brain’s suddenly working overtime. Come on, let’s see if the Swiss know how to make a decent cup of coffee.”
The breakfast coffee was not only delicious, the buffet was mouthwatering, and the two women overloaded their plates with fresh fruit and pastries, yogurt and pancakes before taking a seat to one side. They were making their way through their second helping when a waitress with bright red hair and cat’s-eye glasses appeared with a fresh pot of coffee.
“Some more, please?”
“That’d be great,” said Roxy, digging her spoon into a bowl of traditional Swiss Birchermüesli.
“Oh you are Australian,” the woman said and Roxy looked up this time, nodding. “We get lots of Australians here.”
Roxy smiled. “Really?” She glanced around then reached for her iPhone, producing the image of Max. “Do you remember meeting an Australian man called Max here last week. He was—”
“Of course, Mr Farrell. Very nice man.”
“He’s my brother,” Caroline chirped and Roxy stared at her.
Did she never get bored with that line? “Did you serve him breakfast or—”
“Oh yes, miss. Max and his girlfriend.”
Roxy’s heart nosedived. She tried to speak, to ask the obvious question, but she’d lost her tongue. Her worst fears were materialising. She’d wanted to ask the waitress about the confiscated photos, about the military base, but this “other woman” kept popping up. Like a bloated, rotting corpse.
Fortunately, the coffee had now worked wonders on Caroline’s mashed brain and, recognising Roxy’s sudden distress, she took over. “I’m Caroline. We’re trying to track down my brother. He hasn’t been seen in almost a week. Can you tell me a little bit about this woman he was with?”
Sensing something was amiss, the waitress seemed to backpedal. “Oh, he was only with her the one morning.”
“When was that?”
“Oh, um, I think it was last Tuesday. I don’t know.” She looked nervous now.
“Tuesday morning. So they came to breakfast together?”
“Yes. Well ...” She shook her head, the coffee pot almost spilling over. “They sat together, you see, but your brother came in first. She joined him soon after. I felt sad because,” she blushed, “well, he is a good-looking brother you have there! Do you think he is okay?”
“We’re not sure, that’s why we’re asking.” Caroline glanced at Roxy who was still in a stupor. “So what happened then? They had breakfast and ...?”
She considered this. “Then I did not see them again.” She stopped. “Oh, but I think maybe they go hiking.”
“Hiking? Really, why do you say that?”
“Because they both wearing the hiking shoes and caps, and the woman, she has the .... I don’t know what you call them, like hiking sticks?”
“Trekking poles?” Caroline suggested and Roxy snorted.
Trekking poles indeed! They were for the elderly and infirm!
Caroline gave her a worried glance before asking the waitress, “Do you know the name of this woman?”
She shook her head firmly, stared at the coffee pot and backed away. “I must go, I
am sorry, I have to keep working.”
Caroline watched her slip away and then looked at Roxy. “You okay?”
She folded her arms in front of her and mimicked a smile. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“Really?”
The smile deflated. “Jesus, Caroline, it’s not about me, how many times do I have to tell you that.”
“Sheesh, okay, chill out. So, what do you reckon? This the same woman Max was chatting to at the bar?”
“Either that or he’s a bigger slut than I realised.” Roxy regretted the words instantly but Caroline didn’t seem to take offence.
“Do you think they—and don’t get cross—do you think they might have, you know, hooked up? I mean, having breakfast together is usually a dead giveaway.”
“Thank you, Caroline, I had joined those dots already.”
“I asked you not to get cranky.”
“I’m not cranky!” Roxy hissed and then caught herself. She unfolded her arms and took some calming breaths. “Sorry. I’m ... I’m just confused, that’s all.”
Roxy was angry with herself again. If, as she had told Caroline, it was not about her or her feelings, why was she taking it all so damn personally?
Focus, Roxy, focus!
They sat in silence for a few seconds, sipping their coffee, their breakfast now forgotten in front of them.
Eventually Roxy sat forward. “Do you have your iPad with you?” Caroline nodded. “Good. We need to get those pictures of the woman up and show Leon. I need to know who she is, and what the hell she was doing with Max.”
“So what about all this military talk?”
“Don’t know about that stuff. But I do know a way we can use it to our advantage. Come on.”
Chapter 12
Leon Schelling was looking more uncomfortable by the minute and all Roxy’s questions about the military base were beginning to ruffle his otherwise immaculate feathers, so when she produced a picture of the perky blonde for him to identify, he was grateful for the diversion, and she was counting on that.
“Come on,” she said to Leon. “You tell me who this woman is and I’ll stop asking so many nosey questions about the base.”
He sighed and glanced around his office as if checking for hidden cameras or the like. Caroline had made her way back to their room in search of more headache tablets, so Roxy decided to tackle the hotelier alone. Enough with the word games, she’d decided. It was time for some answers.
Sensing her mood, he had quickly ushered her into the privacy of his office telling the receptionist to hold all calls. Now he was staring at her like she was a toy he’d grown weary of. “We do not normally reveal our guest’s names to the public, Ms Parker, I have already told you that.”
“And do your guests ‘normally’ just vanish soon after they’ve had military photos ripped out of their camera?”
His jaw clenched. “What do you want, Ms Parker?”
“I want to know if this is the woman you saw Max having drinks with on Monday night.” He hesitated before glancing again at the Facebook pictures and giving a quick, curt nod. “Hallelujah!” she said. “We’re finally getting somewhere. We believe Max was also seen with this woman the following morning, at breakfast. It looks like they were heading off on a hike together.” Roxy softened her tone, mustered her warmest smile. “Please, Leon. I know you’re trying to do the right thing by your guests, and I respect that, I really do. But I need to know her name. A life may be at stake. Two lives. Please.”
He straightened his hair behind his ears and glanced around the room again. Eventually he said, “It is another Australian. Mrs Candace Marlow. Candy, I believe they called her.” His wrinkled nose showed Roxy exactly what he thought of that and she would have frowned along with him if she wasn’t so perplexed.
“Did you say Mrs Marlow?”
“Yes. She was here with her husband, Donald.”
Roxy sat back with a thud. “Oh ... right. But ... but where was the husband in all of this?”
Leon gave Roxy a look that spoke volumes and she finally understood his reservations. It all made sense now. The hotel manager suspected Max had had an affair with a married woman, at his hotel, under the unsuspecting husband’s nose. No wonder they were all clamming up. It had everything to do with secrecy but not of the military kind.
She scrambled to get her thoughts together. “Were Max and this Candy woman”—what kind of a name was that?—“were they, you know, together? Did you see them being ... intimate.” She didn’t want to know but she needed to nonetheless.
He crossed his arms. “I saw nothing of the kind, Ms Parker. But if, as you say, they were having breakfast together, well, one can draw their own conclusions.”
She silently groaned. “And did they leave together? Max and Candy.” She could barely say the name without gagging.
Leon was shaking his head. “All I can tell you is what is in my files. The Marlows left together as planned, on the gondola at 8:15 a.m. Wednesday.”
“The gondola?”
“Yes, it is another way down the mountain. It takes you to a place called Kriens. Mr Farrell left an hour later, via the train for Alpnachstad. What happened after that, after they all left my mountain, is none of my concern. Now, please, I can tell you no more.”
He stood up and went to show Roxy the door but she didn’t budge. “Please, Leon. Is there any chance of getting a contact number for the Marlows? An address?”
“No, Ms Parker,” he said wearily. “Not a chance in hell.”
Back in the hotel room, Roxy had become despondent, lounging on the bed and flicking through the TV channels, and Caroline was getting worried.
“Come on, Rox, let’s try and track down that cute waiter from last night. See if he knows where the Marlows might be. Or we could take a stroll around the mountain. We haven’t even checked out those caves yet. Maybe there’s some secrets lurking in there?” Still Roxy said nothing. “Come on, sweetie, we’ve got to do something!”
Roxy turned to her. “Okay, sure, I know what we can do!” Caroline looked hopeful. “How about we go down to the gift shop and get ourselves two Swiss Army knives. Then we could use them to stab your bastard brother when we find him, in the arms of a married bloody woman!”
She turned back to the TV and continued bashing at the remote control buttons as channels flew by. Caroline sighed and sat down next to Roxy.
“I’m sorry, Rox.”
She shook her head, couldn’t look at her again. “My mother was right. I am such a bloody fool. Here I am in Switzerland, for God’s sake.” She waved the remote control at the view. “I flew all the way from Australia, with some ridiculous idea that my boyf—” She caught herself, “my ex-boyfriend was in mortal danger. Turns out, the only danger he’s in, is getting a bop on the nose from a jealous husband.”
“He could also get a really nasty sexually transmitted disease if we’re lucky,” Caroline offered but Roxy didn’t even register a smile. “So you honestly think that’s all this is about? Max following some chick around Europe like a love-sick puppy?”
Roxy shrugged. She didn’t care anymore, or at least she wished she didn’t. Caroline was shaking her head.
“It just doesn’t fit.”
“Don’t try and make me feel better.”
“I’m not. But it’s just not Max’s MO. It’s not the way he does things.”
“Really?” snorted Roxy. “We’re talking about the same guy who followed me all the way to a tiny country town out the back of nowhere to tell me he loved me. Not his style, huh?”
“Well, you’re different. He’s only just met this woman.”
“How do you know that? How do you know they didn’t plan this rendezvous beneath the unsuspecting husband’s nose? Leon did say she’s Australian. Maybe they’d been having an affair in Berlin for the past six months.” She stopped, dread creeping through her bones. “Maybe he’d been seeing her longer than that. Maybe she’s the reason why he took the Berlin job.”
Roxy ignored this and kept stabbing at the remote control.
“Anyway,” Caroline added, looking suddenly triumphant, “how does any of this explain Jake? Huh?”
“Jake?” She’d forgotten about him.
“Yes, Jake! Think about it. Max disappears and then suddenly his flatmate shows up murdered. What’s that about?”
“Coincidence.” Roxy dropped the remote and got up from the bed. “Good try but I’m just not buying it. I’m usually the first to dismiss coincidences, Caroline, but I’m sorry to say, that’s all this is. Maybe Jake was killed by a burglar or had a run-in with someone completely unrelated. Who knows? It’s likely all just a big, sad coincidence.”
“Still, we have to find Max! That’s the whole reason we came over here. Let’s just find him and then we’ll know for sure that everything’s hunky-dory. Well, apart from the early midlife crisis he’s obviously going through. I mean, did you get a look at that woman?” She mock shuddered. “Soooo cira-1985.”
“You know what? If this is a midlife crisis then we should just let Max get on with it.” Roxy grabbed her empty suitcase from the bench by the wall and began pulling her things out of the closet.
“What’s happening here?” Caroline said.
“I’m packing up. It’s time to head home.”
“Shhh, not you! I mean, here?” She was staring at the television screen, her eyes as wide as saucers, then flung herself across the bed to grab the remote control and zoomed the volume up. Roxy went to say something but Caroline held a hand up to silence her as the reporter broke in. She was speaking in Italian, standing with a microphone on a windy rock ledge, and Roxy was wondering what on earth the woman was saying that so intrigued Caroline until a picture of another woman flashed up on the screen. Roxy and Caroline both gasped.
