Business or leisure? Country, coast/lake or city?He tapped his pen on the white breakfast bar, then concluded,no restriction, and circled it.
He picked up his phone to check the exchange rate between the British pound and the euro, as he did most days. Afterbanking the proceeds of his share of the Black Falcon, he had nearly half a million pounds and was waiting for a good time to convert it. What he read made him decide to hang on and hope for a more favourable rate.
Then he googledHotels for sale UK, prompting five hundred and forty-seven results. He adjusted the filters to reflect his likely budget, and it dropped to three hundred and one. He commenced scrolling.
Ullapool offered a highly rated hotel on the NC500, the five-hundred-mile-plus tourist route looping north Scotland.
A guesthouse in Sidmouth he dismissed as not central enough. A boutique hotel in Blackpool was too small. A guesthouse in Cumbria priced for a quick sale might mean reduced due to lack of interest.
A hotel in West Sussex looked like a small castle. The price, however, was large. On a fresh page, he wrote:Finance?
Nine-bed in Belfast, grey stone with gables. Pretty, he thought approvingly.Restaurant and bar. He hesitated.Too work intensive?He needed to be realistic about what he could manage with staff rather than partners or co-directors.Stunning views.Not his idea of stunning, not over that little slip of countryside. Villa Panorama’s views of the lake, the mountains, the city of narrow streets and terracotta roofs...Theywere stunning.
Next, he googled hotels for sale in Italy and, after adjusting the filters, brought the hits down to under fifty. Straightaway, a hotel in Como caught his eye and clicking on it proved irresistible. It was a kilometre from the lake and on a steep hillside.In need of renovation.Ah. That was why a forty-room hotel built in a traditional style was within his budget. He couldn’t fail to notice the regeneration taking place in Como, both business and residential, but it didn’t suit his plan to join it.
Florence, ten rooms. That was more like it.
Boutique hotel near Turin. Within his budget, but small.
Adding to his ever-lengthening notes, Leo found himself refining his parameters until he established the kind of property where he could get to know the staff and see what he could improve.
When his phone rang, he answered without looking at the screen. ‘Pronto.’
It was a surprise when Teddy’s voice boomed in his ear. He always sounded slightly plummy, as if he wanted people to think he’d been educated at a private school. Although Teddy’s upbringing between the UK and South Africa was misty, Leo considered the accent fake. ‘Leonardo, there have been a plethora of thefts at the Black Falcon.’ Teddy sounded impatient.
‘Oh?’ Wondering why Isabella’s father was sharing the information, Leo dropped his pen and frowned out of the open door to where a petite brown sparrow swayed on the end of a branch like a child on a swing.
Teddy sounded aggrieved. ‘All the newest cars from our car park. The police say that thieves do it with their laptops, somehow, after painting over the CCTV cameras. Whatever next?’
Leo scratched his head. ‘Did they take your Aston?’ Teddy was extremely proud of his beautiful green DB12, which Leo thought wore a supercilious expression similar to Teddy’s own. Teddy called it ‘classic’ to explain the fact it was over twenty years old. The first part of the registration wasKN03, which Leo always chose to read asKNOB.
Teddy snorted. ‘Of course! It was immaculate. Little bastards.’
Leo allowed himself a grin. But Teddy’s next words wiped it from his face.
‘The police want to talk to you,’ he said.
Jerking upright, Leo protested. ‘What the hell for? I’m miles away.’
Teddy sounded unmoved. ‘I suppose they think you might have been in cahoots with someone local – for revenge, maybe.’
Cynically, Leo laughed. ‘And where did they get that idea? You? Or Isabella?’ He noted that Isabella hadn’t been the one to call.
Teddy assumed an air of exasperated injury. ‘Look, I don’t tell the police what questions to ask. But when they asked if any members of staff had left recently, I couldn’t avoid giving them your name.’
Gritting his teeth at the word ‘staff’, when he’d been both partner and Isabella’s boyfriend, Leo said offhandedly, ‘OK. Thanks for letting me know.’ He rang off with a faux-cheery goodbye.
Barely had he retrieved his pen and attempted to rejoin his earlier train of thought when the phone burbled again. This time, he read the screen before answering.Isabella.He sighed. A band of tension started above his eyes and he made a conscious effort to relax. ‘Ciao. Your dad’s already told me about the cars.’
Isabella answered expectantly. ‘What do you think?’
He shrugged. ‘That the police will be wasting their time if they’re looking at me.’
She clicked her tongue impatiently. ‘I mean, do you have any bright ideas on how to stop this getting out? It gives guests a bad impression. We’re full for a conference and I expect all those biz people are firing their comments onto Tripadvisor and Facebook.’
He frowned. The little bird outside fluttered down to the ground and tilted its head as if interested in his reply. ‘I don’t suppose you can stop it, but, Isabella...’ He paused, searching for a phrase that would get his point across. ‘It’s literally not my business. You and your dad need to deal with it. Look, I’m busy—’
‘Well.’ She interrupted him, sounding woeful. ‘I didn’t think you’d get so standoffish.’
