‘Has she interviewed you yet?’
Paul shook his head.
‘Surely you’re needed down there? Are your hands shaking? How much of that have you had?’
She referred to the sachets ofYouthBlasthe guzzled as if it were going out of fashion. A part of her felt guilty for what they were doing to him, but her job was to monitor not mother him. A tiny shaft of lust filtered through Tilda’s groin, and she found herself reciprocating his grin.
But a phone call pierced the mood, and she hesitated for a second before answering it. Paul walked to the balcony and opened the sliding door. The view from Tilda’s room was spectacular. It wasn’t the Alps, but beauty didn’t always have to be big; it could be small and quiet, like this minute little lake hidden away from everything. ‘What a place to die,’ he whispered.
Inside, Tilda listened carefully.
‘Yes, I understand that, so pay them more. Everybody has a price. Failing that, threaten their families.’
She hung up and joined him on the balcony.
‘You love it here?’ she asked him.
‘It’s so peaceful. Who was that?’
‘London. They’re sending a couple of suits up here to make sure we get NDAs from all the delegates and media-bots before they leave.’
‘Good idea. What about the ones who’ve already left?’
‘I spoke to each one personally.’
‘So, we have several hours to kill,’ he said.
She pressed a button to close the blinds, and darkness fell upon the room. Only a shaft of sunlight and a warm bedside lamp illuminated their bodies as they came together and silently began to undress.
Paul’s skin was already wet with perspiration, and she slid her hand up his back.
‘It makes me sweat,’ he said.
‘Not much longer now,’ she said, soothingly.
Chapter 25
‘Mr Lovett, please sit down. I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances; I’ve always wanted to come and stay here,’ Kelly said.
Paul Burlington was nowhere to be found so she decided to speak to the conference and banqueting manager, who was next on her list. Emma had gone to locate Jamie’s business partner in the meantime.
‘I’m assuming you don’t want a cup of your own coffee?’
She smiled and saw him visibly relax. He was nervous. Lee Lovett looked stressed, as he might. A man had died horribly on his watch. The general manager seemed to expect a lot of him in his absence, she’d gathered.
Lee Lovett sat down and examined the folds on the tablecloth, then he peered underneath at the carpet. He seemed to be looking for signs of vacuuming that met his expectations. It seemingly did because he was happy for a moment, until a shadow returned to his brow and he looked at Kelly.
He wrung his hands and Kelly remembered in the video that Jamie’s blood was all over this young manager. It was the kind of traumatic event that haunts dreams.
She would know.
Blood smelt like iron, like the earth. Like the lake. It was fresh, alive and viscous – everchanging. It felt oily and warm. She watched him and he confirmed he didn’t want coffee. They chatted about how long he’d worked at Heron Hall and what he knew about the guests and generally about Hampton-Dent. Which wasn’t much.
‘It’s all mumbo-jumbo,’ he chuckled.
He was charming and good-natured.
She wondered how he was treated by the elite. Was it Elon Musk who took potential employees for lunch to see how they treated service staff? It was an excellent judge of character. She recalled summer jobs in hotels and how vile a few of the guests were to her. On the whole, they were generous and engaging but some could be tricky and rude, as if they were superior to those attending them.
