Room 413.
It was raised on a slightly higher level than the rooms either side of it, with its own short staircase leading up. I climbed the stairs feeling suddenly dizzy, suddenly lost in the labyrinthine corridors.
‘Hello …’ I called out.
No answer.
I walked through the doorway then stepped back against the wall. Room 413 was a large suite, at least double the size of any I’d ever stayed in. The light came from a desk lamp and gave the room a moody, intimate tone. The window was closed but I could hear faint sounds of traffic down on Oxford Road, still going at gone one in the morning. The glare of the city outside cast moving, kaleidoscopic shadows across the walls.
At the far side of the room was the solid, immovable silhouette of a man.
He was sitting in a chair, facing the window. He didn’t respond as I drew closer and I felt a cold sweat, itching out from my scalp. I wiped my face with my forearm, eyes not leaving the shape. As I came alongside him I saw that he was dead. His own sweat was glazed across his face, and I thought I could feel the heat pouring out of him. He looked well groomed for a midnight intruder, cleanly shaven with a sharp haircut. I stopped when I saw that his eyes were wide open. They were cobalt-blue and staring into the next life like he was done with this one. It was his teeth that sent me out of the room, though. The muscles in his mouth had contracted viciously, and locked into a wide, wincing grin.
8
Aneesa waited with Ali for the paramedics to arrive. I’d told Sutty there was something he needed to see on the fourth floor and taken him up to 413. The corridors were unventilated and warmer at the top of the building. By the time we reached the room his pale skin was bubbling with sweat. He looked like he was being boiled alive.
‘Better be good,’ he said, wheezing up the narrow staircase. He playfully rapped his knuckles on the open door and shouted: ‘Housekeeping.’ He stopped when he saw the body, then looked back at me. Jabbed a wet finger in my chest. ‘You fucking touch anything?’
‘No.’
‘The light?’
‘On already.’
He stared at me for a second then turned to the man. With the window closed the room was oppressively warm. When Sutty shrugged off his jacket I followed suit. His shirt was saturated with sweat.
He paused, taking in his surroundings before going any further. There was the usual king-sized bed, alongside some teak walls and furnishings. It felt more like a smart, city-centre apartment than a hotel room. Sutty nodded at a plastic key card lying on the floor.
The man was sitting in a leather chair which had been moved to face the window. There was still some light, bleeding through the curtains, casting shapes on the walls.
‘You need to see his face,’ I said.
‘Pretty boy, eh?’ Sweat poured out from Sutty’s skin and I mopped my own brow in response. ‘Well, lead the way.’
The desk lamp was too dim for the full effect, so I clicked on my torch, went towards the man and lit him up. The light caught his teeth, that rictus grin, and Sutty winced, waved at me to lower it.
He licked his lips thoughtfully. ‘Makes you wonder what’s so funny …’
I didn’t say anything.
When I lowered the torch beam on to the man’s lap I saw an odd pattern on one trouser leg. A circular shape in orange stitching. I was about to take another step when Sutty clicked his fingers at me. Shook his head.
The man was middle-aged. Wearing a dark suit. My first impression, from his rich brown skin, was that he was of Middle Eastern origin. The effect was somewhat undone by his piercing blue eyes. They, in conjunction with the vicious smile on his face, made him look like he knew something that we didn’t. Some awful knowledge right at the edge of sanity.
‘Homeless?’ said Sutty.
I shook my head. ‘Clean clothes, no smell. He looks more like a don or a teacher than a user …’
Sutty grinned. ‘Well, it’s all academic until forensics arrive. I wanna talk to that security guard, though, before the paramedics get rid of him. Take the mountain to Mohammed.’
‘I think his name was Ali.’
‘Yeah-yeah,’ he said, crossing the room.
I followed him to the door, stopped, and looked back at the man. Outside, I could hear the traffic on Oxford Road. Piercing through it all were the sounds of sirens, two or three sets, moving in different directions through the city.
9
Ali had been lifted on to a gurney and moved to the lobby. Two paramedics stood beside him, discussing his vitals. Aneesa watched, anxiously, at a distance. Several uniformed officers had arrived and one of them was talking to her, taking a statement.
Sutty approached the lead paramedic. ‘We need a word before you cart him off.’
‘I’m afraid you’d have a one-way conversation. We’ve given him something for the pain.’
‘Well, give him something else.’
‘It doesn’t work that way, Inspector. We’re taking him to St Mary’s, so you can catch him there tomorrow morning.’ Sutty started to speak but swallowed the insult and nodded. Then he shouted across the room at the uniformed officer talking to Aneesa.
‘Oi, hot fuzz.’ The officer turned. ‘You go with ’em. He’s a witness or a criminal, a flight risk either way.’
‘Sir. It’s just that my orders were—’
‘Your orders have changed, sweetheart.’ The officer didn’t move. ‘You’d better be pissing your pants now so you don’t need to go on the ward, son.’ The officer went bright red, turned and followed the paramedics outside.
I looked at Sutty. ‘You’re a class act …’
‘And you’re lucky there’s someone more trustworthy than you around. Right,’ he said, clapping his hands. ‘Can everyone dressed like a male stripper gather round.’ Aneesa crumpled into a chair and Sutty rolled his eyes. ‘Make yourself useful and get rid of her.’ He briefed the officers to secure the building and begin a search of the premises. ‘No one goes up to the third or fourth floors without my say-so. Repeat that back to me.’ They did and Sutty grunted. ‘Good, now get on with it.’ They filed out of the lobby in different directions, leaving Aneesa and me alone.
‘Are you OK?’ I said. She nodded but didn’t look up. ‘It’s been a night. Let me call you a cab.’
She paced up and down the road while we waited, like she was trying to walk off the memory of Ali’s attack. The lapsed detective in me wondered if there was something between them but I immediately dismissed the idea. She was young and successful, a city girl at least twenty years his junior, going places. When the car arrived she climbed inside and started to close the door before pausing.
‘The fourth floor …’ she said.
‘What about it?’
‘You found Ali on the third, you said. Why did your boss say they couldn’t go up to the fourth? What else was up there?’ I didn’t answer and she came to her own conclusion. ‘Before the paramedics put him under he was scared. Really scared …’
‘Scared of what?’
‘Voices, he said.’
I passed her my card. ‘We’ll need to speak to you again, but call me if there’s anything you want to talk about in the meantime.’ She closed the door and stared at the back of the driver’s seat like we’d never met, until the cab merged into the traffic and disappeared from view.
Although I’d only been gone for ten minutes, Scene of Crime Officers had arrived when I re-entered the building. I saw a junior member of the team hauling gear up the stairs as Sutty was coming back down them.
‘That’s all she wrote,’ he said. ‘I’ve set the primary scene boundary in 413.’
‘It should be at least the whole floor.’