night.’
‘Is there anyone in that room now?’ Grant asked.
‘Erm, no – not at the moment. What’s all of this about? Is this man a criminal? He seemed quite nice, you know....’
‘Did he have any visitors on Sunday night?’
‘I’m not on duty on Sundays....’
‘May we have a look at his room?’
‘I’ll have to phone the manager. You’ll have to tell me what it’s about....’
‘A murder inquiry. We believe that Mr. Smith can help us with a few questions....’
Emma’s smile vanished. The thought of having spoken to someone who was involved in a murder inquiry rattled her brain. This kind of thing only happened on TV, and even then, only in the States.
Carroll straightened himself up and inhaled loudly.
‘Do you remember what Mr. Smith looked like, Emma?’
‘He was about thirty-five, with black hair and a sallow complexion. Like he had some Italian blood in him, you know what I mean?’
‘What kind of clothing did he wear?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, did he wear a suit, or was it something more casual?’
‘When he left on Monday morning he was wearing a suit.’
‘So you didn’t see him wearing old jeans or maybe some sportswear?’
‘I don’t remember. I’ll just ring the manager....’
While Emma dialled for the manager, Grant spoke to his partner.
‘Well, it looks like our man has flown the coop, eh?’
‘At least we have his number. That way we can trace him through the mobile phone company.’
‘Yeah – doesn’t look likely that he’s our man, but it would be interesting to talk to him.’
‘To see what kind of clothes he wears?’
‘And to see how much he paid Joanne McCrae for an hour and a half on the night before she was killed....’
The manager arrived at the hotel less than five minutes later. The hotel chain, he said, had seven such hotels in central London. That explained a lot – every grey-looking hotel in London must be run by these interior design geniuses, Carroll thought.
Grant informed the manager, a Mr. Winterbottom, that they would need to get forensics people to lift any remaining latent fingerprints for identification purposes, and that it would only take a matter of hours. Winterbottom wasn’t happy. Apparently the room was being held for a Canadian couple, due to arrive any minute. Emma had forgotten to mention this.
While Noel Harrigan and his buddies from forensics got to work on the hotel room, Carroll drove Grant back to the station to follow up on their leads. Grant was going to get information on the mobile phone number they had been given, and Carroll would get himself over to 14 Horseferry Road, where Jo Mac’s body had been found. The journey would be worth it – just to make sure the Gibsons were telling the truth, and hadn’t forgotten anything important. It was routine, but then Carroll knew that routine was what worked. Overlooking the smallest thing might mean losing a case at trial, and there was no call for that. Despite Grant’s belief, one which was shared by many of Dan’s colleagues, Carroll was dedicated to his work and was more methodical than many officers he knew. His success rate proved this. It was simply his appearance that suggested otherwise.
William Gibson seemed surprised to see Carroll on his doorstep. He appeared to be in the middle of cooking dinner, and didn’t like the idea of being disturbed.
‘Can’t this wait for another time, detective?’
‘It’ll only take a few minutes, sir. Just to make sure you haven’t forgotten to tell us anything important....’
‘I told you all I know, officer. So did my wife – and we’ve hardly even got settled back in since this whole episode....’
Samantha Gibson was more welcoming in her manner. She believed that there was nothing to hide, and if they could help the police catch whoever killed the poor girl in
‘Is there anyone in that room now?’ Grant asked.
‘Erm, no – not at the moment. What’s all of this about? Is this man a criminal? He seemed quite nice, you know....’
‘Did he have any visitors on Sunday night?’
‘I’m not on duty on Sundays....’
‘May we have a look at his room?’
‘I’ll have to phone the manager. You’ll have to tell me what it’s about....’
‘A murder inquiry. We believe that Mr. Smith can help us with a few questions....’
Emma’s smile vanished. The thought of having spoken to someone who was involved in a murder inquiry rattled her brain. This kind of thing only happened on TV, and even then, only in the States.
Carroll straightened himself up and inhaled loudly.
‘Do you remember what Mr. Smith looked like, Emma?’
‘He was about thirty-five, with black hair and a sallow complexion. Like he had some Italian blood in him, you know what I mean?’
‘What kind of clothing did he wear?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, did he wear a suit, or was it something more casual?’
‘When he left on Monday morning he was wearing a suit.’
‘So you didn’t see him wearing old jeans or maybe some sportswear?’
‘I don’t remember. I’ll just ring the manager....’
While Emma dialled for the manager, Grant spoke to his partner.
‘Well, it looks like our man has flown the coop, eh?’
‘At least we have his number. That way we can trace him through the mobile phone company.’
‘Yeah – doesn’t look likely that he’s our man, but it would be interesting to talk to him.’
‘To see what kind of clothes he wears?’
‘And to see how much he paid Joanne McCrae for an hour and a half on the night before she was killed....’
The manager arrived at the hotel less than five minutes later. The hotel chain, he said, had seven such hotels in central London. That explained a lot – every grey-looking hotel in London must be run by these interior design geniuses, Carroll thought.
Grant informed the manager, a Mr. Winterbottom, that they would need to get forensics people to lift any remaining latent fingerprints for identification purposes, and that it would only take a matter of hours. Winterbottom wasn’t happy. Apparently the room was being held for a Canadian couple, due to arrive any minute. Emma had forgotten to mention this.
While Noel Harrigan and his buddies from forensics got to work on the hotel room, Carroll drove Grant back to the station to follow up on their leads. Grant was going to get information on the mobile phone number they had been given, and Carroll would get himself over to 14 Horseferry Road, where Jo Mac’s body had been found. The journey would be worth it – just to make sure the Gibsons were telling the truth, and hadn’t forgotten anything important. It was routine, but then Carroll knew that routine was what worked. Overlooking the smallest thing might mean losing a case at trial, and there was no call for that. Despite Grant’s belief, one which was shared by many of Dan’s colleagues, Carroll was dedicated to his work and was more methodical than many officers he knew. His success rate proved this. It was simply his appearance that suggested otherwise.
William Gibson seemed surprised to see Carroll on his doorstep. He appeared to be in the middle of cooking dinner, and didn’t like the idea of being disturbed.
‘Can’t this wait for another time, detective?’
‘It’ll only take a few minutes, sir. Just to make sure you haven’t forgotten to tell us anything important....’
‘I told you all I know, officer. So did my wife – and we’ve hardly even got settled back in since this whole episode....’
Samantha Gibson was more welcoming in her manner. She believed that there was nothing to hide, and if they could help the police catch whoever killed the poor girl in
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