“When?”
“Let’s see.” More tapping. Potzner joined in with his fingers on the counter.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the receptionist said. “Computer’s slow this morning.”
Potzner grunted. He’d obviously misread Dracup. Unusual for him.
“He left early, I think,” she said. “I can’t quite make out – ah – sorry, the records just say ‘paid in full’ and ‘no bar bills outstanding’. I can’t tell you any more.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Wait.” Her fingernails clicked and stabbed the ‘Enter’ key conclusively. “‘No newspaper collected’. That’s it.” She shrugged.
“Right.” Potzner made his way across the foyer, which was beginning to fill up with senior citizens. When he judged the receptionist’s attention fully diverted he slipped up the staircase to the second floor. Pausing outside room 124 he produced a plain card, which he swiped through the entry scanner. The lock clicked. He went in.
The bed was made and the curtains drawn. Everything seemed in order. Room maids had been in already. Bit early though. Then he remembered passing the maid’s trolley in the corridor. They hadn’t got this far yet. Someone else has cleaned up. He turned and something caught his eye. High on the window; something not right. He moved in for a closer look. A small crack radiated outwards from a minute hole at the top left hand corner of the window. Potzner zeroed in with a practised analysis. PB 69P. 9x18mm. Upgraded twelve-round magazine – probably. Silenced; for sure. Mind you – he looked out to the car park where a coach was receiving the exodus from the foyer – that may not have been essential given the average age of the clientele here. He shook his head wearily. We’re all headed that way. Even you, Potzner. He tried to imagine a pensionable version of himself: cantankerous, hard of hearing, insomniac – Potzner left the room and bounded down the stairs. Surely one of them…
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he hit the car park at a brisk trot, drawing alarmed looks from the queue. The old lady stared at him suspiciously. “Yes? Can I help?”
“Ah, yes ma’am. Maybe you can.” Potzner cleared his throat. “Did you perhaps hear anything unusual during the night?”
She looked at him indignantly. “Not at all. I slept like a baby. Always do. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She presented her back.
“Pardon me?” Potzner felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a smartly dressed pensioner wearing a floral dress and matching hat. Her eyes twinkled like pearls in a sea-worn oyster. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with that lady.” She frowned, knitting her brow with deeper wrinkles. “Very abrupt, don’t you think? I sat next to her on the coach all the way from Cardiff. Hardly got a word out of her. This time –” she stretched up to whisper in Potzner’s ear but, realizing the impossible logistics of scaling such heights, contented herself with a covert hand over one side of her mouth. “This time I’ll be down the other end – you watch me!”
Potzner didn’t doubt it. “And did you hear anything unusual at all last night, ma’am? Any noise?”
“Well, as a matter of fact I did. I don’t sleep as well as I used to, not at all. There was a lot of thumping and banging. Then I’m sure I heard glass breaking. And then – the strangest thing in the middle of the night – somebody came out of the fire escape and down the back stairs. My room overlooks the stairway, you see. I saw him go into the car park and then he was off. Just like that.”
“You say him, ma’am – can you be sure it was a man?”
“Oh yes. It was the gentleman I met in the car park yesterday – we’d just arrived, you see. A good looking fellow.”
“Dark curly hair, beard.”
“That’s right!” She glanced around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. “Has he done something wrong?”
Potzner shook his head. “I don’t think so, ma’am. Can you say what time this would have been?”
“It was 2.45 a.m. precisely.” The eyes twinkled again. “I had just finished the Times crossword.”
Potzner raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t do crosswords for Hershey bars. The coach driver had started the engine and only one or two couples remained to board. “You’d better make sure you get a good seat.” He inclined his head towards the coach.
She smiled. “I hope I’ve helped.”
Potzner watched her go and felt a wry smile creep across his face. Boy, I hope my marbles are in the same place as hers when I get to that age. He rummaged in his pocket for his car keys. Dracup was probably miles away by now so he didn’t have any time to lose.