“Patience, Detectives.” She closed her eyes and pictured last night. Her mind jolted to an image of Hedy’s body. She clenched her jaw, pushing the thought away. She pictured Hedy smiling as she walked in. Sterling focused in on Mr. Lime, isolating him in her memory.
With her eyes closed, she spoke.
“He was wealthy but still worked a desk job. Unmarried, but probably in a long-term relationship, I’d guess with a woman. He was ambidextrous. Wasn’t much of a drinker. He was soused. Alcohol wasn’t the only thing in his system—maybe pills? He had recently been in Italy. He visited the Loos Bar yesterday evening, probably the last place he was seen alive before here. Oh, and he was robbed. Twice.” She opened her eyes.
Andreas’s jaw dropped. His pen almost did too. He wore anexaggerated version of the incredulous, furrowed-brow look he gave Sterling nearly every time she spoke.
“If you need me to explain it, I can,” she said.
“Yes, please,” said Beate, eagerly enough that it earned her a glare from Andreas.
“Hunched posture said desk job. His suit screamed inherited wealth. Smoking was obvious: He tried to light up in the lobby, using matches from the Loos Bar. His fingers were yellow, like a seasoned smoker’s, and both his thumbs were callused from a lighter, so normally he used one. The matchbook was missing only two matches. Which means his lighter was out of fluid, lost, or had been stolen not long before he got the matches. Given that he couldn’t find his wallet, I bet it got nicked along with the lighter. I’m guessing he didn’t normally drink because it triggered his rosacea, and he couldn’t hold his liquor. But he was comfortable walking outside last night without a jacket, and it’s a fifteen-minute walk from the Loos Bar. Too cold without something illicit in his system. His shoes were Italian, the leather soles barely scuffed. My colleague said they were this season’s. If they’d taken a cab, he’d have noticed his wallet missing when he paid.”
“So someone stole it?”
“That’s my guess. But he was also robbed inside the Hotel. He wore a Cartier Love bracelet when he checked in, and it was gone this morning.”
Beate laughed. Andreas scoffed.
“You didn’t catch, I don’t know, his passport number or his home address?” he asked.
“That’s all I remember.”
“Can you tell us anything else about last night?”
“Oh, darling, I can. The question is how much of it you’ll believe.”
She ran through the previous night’s events. The phone calls, theice cream cake, the blackout. By the time she finished, they’d stopped taking notes and were sitting back listening with rapt attention.
“And when I left, I noticed the bracelet was missing. Which meant someone else was in their room that night. Then we called you.”
“All that happened in a few hours?” Andreas asked.
“You have no idea what working here is like.”
“So, you claim someone else was in the locked room. Don’t you and the bellhop have keys?”
“The only thing we steal from guests is their hearts, Detective. Fernando was alone in Room 5 for only a moment before I entered. He wouldn’t have had time to remove that bracelet. Like I explained, it’s screwed on. And besides, we had bigger priorities. In our line of work, finding a dead body isn’t a typical occurrence.”
“Do you think this is a joke, Miss Lockwood?” he said.
“I don’t. I’m trying to help. Also, don’t call memiss.”
“Sorry,Mrs. Lockwood—”
“Just Sterling. Orsir.”
“Okay… Sterling, then help us by giving us names of the other guests.”
She rubbed her eyes. It was midday. Usually, she’d be heading to bed around now. “For the last time, I don’t know them.”
She needed a proper drink, but everyone kept offering her tea. If one more person brought her a cup that didn’t contain coffee or cognac, there might be a third murder. She leaned forward to rest her head in her palms. From her hunched posture, she jutted out one arm and made agimmemotion. “Pen. Paper.Bitte.”
She took the paper onto her knee and scribbled something, pausing every few seconds to collect her thoughts, then continuing. She tore it in two, passed one half to them, and slipped the other into her bra.
“What’s this?” asked Beate, staring at it.
“Your witness list.”
