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‘No problem. I’m sorry you’ve been inconvenienced. I have the keys here.’
Jerome produced a bunch of silver keys from his pocket and strode towards the hotel with Imogen, Millie, and Carla scampering in his wake. They reached the Hummingbird Suite and Jerome tried both the handles himself which caused Imogen and Millie to roll their eyes and exchange a look that said “told you so’.
‘Strange.’
Jerome selected a key, inserted it into the lock and pushed the door doors open. ‘Voilà!’
‘Oh…’
‘Oh my God!’
‘Argh!’
Millie blinked, unable to believe what her eyes were telling her. Every table had been turned upside down, the linen tablecloths torn into pieces and scattered around the room like discarded wrapping paper, along with the serviettes. The silver cutlery had been strewn everywhere and the Birds-of-Paradise paintings had been removed from the walls and stamped on. The room looked like a tornado had hit and done its worst.
‘Oh, my God!’ cried Imogen, her hand covering her mouth, tears collecting along her lashes. ‘What the…?’
Millie and Carla moved forward in unison to link Imogen’s arm as Jerome dashed into the suite, rushing from table to table inspecting the damage, until he came to a sudden standstill, his gaze fixed on the wall to their right.
‘Jerome, why are you—?’
‘Argh!’ screamed Carla who was the first to see what he was looking at.
When Millie followed Jerome and Carla’s line of sight, her stomach dropped to her toes like an anvil down a well. Her heart flayed her ribcage so hard that she thought it would escape. Nausea threatened until she turned to see the expression on Imogen’s face. If she and Carla hadn’t been holding onto her, she would have crumbled to the floor.
‘What’s…? Is that…?’
The maelstrom of destruction wasn’t limited to smashed furniture and broken picture frames. Everything in the room had been doused in what Millie sincerely hoped was red paint; the floor boards, the drapes, the walls, even the crystal chandeliers. The whole place looked like a scene from the Caribbean Chainsaw Massacre.
‘Is that… blood?’ muttered Carla, her eyes wide with horror.
Jerome was the first to pull himself together, yet his hands were shaking and his pallor had turned two shades lighter than it had been a few minutes earlier. He took a tentative step nearer the wall and sniffed.
‘What are you doing?’
‘It’s not blood, Carla. This is tomato ketchup, and this,’ he indicated the curtains and the floor, ‘seems to be red spray paint.’
‘But why would anyone…’
Imogen could hold onto her emotions no longer and burst into loud raking sobs, her body shaking uncontrollably.
‘Someone doesn’t want me and Alex to get married! They’re doing everything in their power to destroy our wedding plans, but what I want to know is: why? What have we done to deserve this?’
‘Carla, I think you should go and fetch Julia and Karen.’
‘Right away.’
As Carla sprinted from the room, Millie led the distraught Imogen to the only chair left upright and, with Jerome’s assistance, settled her down in the seat and handed her a bunch of tissues from her pocket.
‘I’m so sorry, Imogen. Please rest assured that the hotel will investigate this incident thoroughly, and—’
‘Darling!’ cried Julia from the doorway, her hand flying to her chest as her eyes surveyed the damage. ‘Oh my God! What in heaven’s name happened in here? Is that blood?’
Before Julia and Karen had even taken a step into the room, a woman launched herself from behind an upturned table, a pair of kitchen scissors clutched in her fist raised high in the air, heading straight for Jerome.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Oh my God! It sounds like the plot of a murder mystery show set on a Caribbean island,’ declared Lottie, her eyes stretched wide with interest. ‘So was Jerome hurt?’
