As a result of my interview with Sidney Miller at Fulham nick, I’d missed lunch, but I’d had the foresight to pick up a packet of sandwiches from the local Starbucks. I’d just settled in my office with the door firmly shut and was stirring my cup of coffee when Colin Wilberforce appeared again.
‘What is it now, Colin?’ I had to admit to being a little irritated at having my scratch lunch interrupted.
‘Sharon Gregory’s been found, sir. She’s dead.’
‘Where and when was this?’ Don’t ask me why, but I’d somehow expected this. Call it ‘copper’s nose’, if you like.
‘Just after midday at the Dickin Hotel at Heathrow Airport, sir. According to the DI on the Homicide Assessment Team, it looked as though she’d been strangled.’
Believe it or not, Homicide and Serious Crime Command West is responsible for investigating homicide and serious crime in the west of London. And there aren’t many units left with a title that tells you exactly what they do. Our remit, as the hierarchy is fond of saying, stretches from Westminster to Hillingdon on the edge of the Metropolitan Police District and encompasses all the heavy-duty villainy that takes place in between. Unfortunately, that area also includes Heathrow Airport. Not that it would have made any difference in this particular case; anything to do with Sharon Gregory, wherever she’d been found – in the London area, of course – was down to me.
‘What’s the SP, Colin?’
‘According to the HAT DI, sir, Sharon Gregory checked in at about twelve o’clock midday yesterday for one night only and was allocated room 219. The room was booked until twelve noon today, but she hadn’t checked out by then, and a “Do Not Disturb” sign was still on the door of her room. The chambermaid knocked several times, but got no answer. Rather than go in, she called the duty manager, and when they entered the room they found Sharon Gregory’s dead body naked on the bed.’
‘Was her Mini Cooper at the hotel?’
‘Yes, sir. In the car park.’
‘Now you know why I joined the Job, Colin,’ I said, reluctantly dropping the remains of my sandwich into the waste paper basket. ‘It’s the excitement of it all.’
The moment Dave and I stepped through the doors of the Dickin Hotel we were confronted by an agitated, fussy little man hovering in the foyer.
‘Are you in charge?’ he demanded, peering through rimless spectacles and stepping towards me as if to prevent me from going any further.
‘And who might you be?’ asked Dave.
‘My name’s Mr Sharp and I am the general manager. And I’d like to know how much longer your people are likely to be here. It’s not good for the image of the hotel having the police running about all over the place.’
‘It doesn’t do much for its image if you allow your guests to be murdered, either,’ observed Dave drily. ‘But to answer your question, as long as it takes. What you’ve got on the second floor is a crime scene, and until my chief inspector here says otherwise, it’ll remain a crime scene.’
‘Oh my God!’ The anguished Mr Sharp spent a moment or two wringing his hands. ‘The board of directors will be furious.’
‘Very likely,’ said Dave unsympathetically.
‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Brock, Mr Sharp,’ I said. ‘Now that we’ve got you here, perhaps you can tell me at what time Mrs Gregory checked in.’ I knew what Wilberforce had said, but I always like to verify information I’ve received second-hand.
Sharp turned to the young woman behind the counter, flicked his fingers and repeated my question.
The receptionist, whose badge bore the name Kirsty, scrolled through the computer. ‘Ms Gregory checked in at twelve-oh-two yesterday afternoon, Mr Sharp,’ she said.
‘Was anyone with her?’ asked Dave, bypassing the manager and speaking directly to Kirsty.
‘I can’t tell from the entry on the computer. We don’t record both names if it happens to be a couple, just the name of the person making the booking. She did ask specifically for a double room with a double bed, though.’ Kirsty smiled at Dave, but most young women do. Even some of the more mature ones have been known to cast an appraising eye over him.
‘Could you let me have a printout, Kirsty?’ asked Dave, returning the girl’s smile.
‘Did she have any visitors that you know of, Kirsty?’ I asked, once she had given Dave the printout. ‘Did anyone call at the desk asking for her room number?’
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t on duty when Ms Gregory checked in.’