Read Online Faraday 01 The Gigabyte Detective by Michael Hillier - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Hillier
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was to the grimy back-streets she had left that morning. But she didn’t have any time to waste on enjoying the lovely setting.
“Let’s talk about the Cynthia Adams case,” she suggested. “You dealt with her murder yourself?”
“Yes.” Just a monosyllable.
“You talked to the hotel staff?”
“Of course - all the ones who might have seen anything relevant.”
“I take it nobody saw the man. He didn’t book the room or anything?” Even as she asked, she was sure he wouldn’t have missed such elementary points.
If he resented her questions, he was careful not to show it. “The room was booked by Cynthia Adams by telephone and paid for by credit card. The room number was given to her over the phone. She drove to the hotel on her own in her own car, parked it in the hotel car park, and collected the key to the room from reception on her own - that’s as far as they can remember.”
“I’m surprised they could remember so much.”
He looked at her sideways. “It was the third time she’d done it in a fortnight.”
“Really?” That took her breath away. “Same man?”
“We assume so. There’s no reason to suggest Cynthia was on the game or anything like that. In fact I’m sure she wasn’t. She had been the mayor the previous year.” He changed the topic. “Where am I to deliver you?”
“Seymour Road. It’s in an area called Knowles Hill.”
“I know it.” He nodded. “Very pleasant area. Good views.”
“Oh, yes,” she agreed. “Aunt Harriet’s from the posh end of the family - widowed now, but still comfortably off.” She paused before continuing, but she wasn’t going to let him avoid her questions. “So, it sounds as though Cynthia was carrying on a fairly serious affair for a lady of mature years.”
He glanced at her again. There was a wisp of a smile about his features. “Careful,” he said. “The lady in question was only a few years older than me. I see no reason to assume her sexual urges had atrophied. Quite the reverse, in fact.”
“Nevertheless,” said Charlotte, aware that she had better tread carefully, “you would assume that Cynthia and her murderer had known each other for some time. Weren’t her family aware that she was having a relationship with someone?”
“Nothing’s come to light.” He concentrated on his driving as he slowed down for the roundabout at the end of the dual-carriageway, pulling into the right hand lane. “In fact her son was quite prickly about it when he was interviewed. Cynthia had only been a widow for about six months. Giles - the son - claimed that she and her husband had been a very happy couple. He was obviously shocked to think that his mother had found another man so soon after her husband’s death. I think we were both aware, when I was interviewing him, that the affair could have started before the old man’s death and Giles didn’t like that idea very much.”
Charlotte thought some more about it. “So nobody knows who this man is? Nobody saw him entering or leaving the room where the murder was committed and nobody noticed anyone unusual around the hotel at the time of the murder?”
“It’s a big hotel.” Paulson seemed defensive. “One of the biggest in Torbay. Nearly all the staff are foreign - mainly Italian or Portuguese. The manager himself is Italian - a Mr Montessori.”
“What time did the murder take place?”
“About six to six-thirty in the evening.”
Her brow furrowed. “And what time was the body discovered?”
“Just before seven. A maid went into the room and found her.” He smiled. “They called the local station.. Luckily I was still in the office and went straight over.”
“It seems a bit odd that they decided to go into the bedroom at that time.”
“Precisely,” said Paulson. “I asked the manager about that but he was rather evasive. He admits that nobody heard any noise or made any complaint. In fact the room showed no sign of anything more violent than
“Let’s talk about the Cynthia Adams case,” she suggested. “You dealt with her murder yourself?”
“Yes.” Just a monosyllable.
“You talked to the hotel staff?”
“Of course - all the ones who might have seen anything relevant.”
“I take it nobody saw the man. He didn’t book the room or anything?” Even as she asked, she was sure he wouldn’t have missed such elementary points.
If he resented her questions, he was careful not to show it. “The room was booked by Cynthia Adams by telephone and paid for by credit card. The room number was given to her over the phone. She drove to the hotel on her own in her own car, parked it in the hotel car park, and collected the key to the room from reception on her own - that’s as far as they can remember.”
“I’m surprised they could remember so much.”
He looked at her sideways. “It was the third time she’d done it in a fortnight.”
“Really?” That took her breath away. “Same man?”
“We assume so. There’s no reason to suggest Cynthia was on the game or anything like that. In fact I’m sure she wasn’t. She had been the mayor the previous year.” He changed the topic. “Where am I to deliver you?”
“Seymour Road. It’s in an area called Knowles Hill.”
“I know it.” He nodded. “Very pleasant area. Good views.”
“Oh, yes,” she agreed. “Aunt Harriet’s from the posh end of the family - widowed now, but still comfortably off.” She paused before continuing, but she wasn’t going to let him avoid her questions. “So, it sounds as though Cynthia was carrying on a fairly serious affair for a lady of mature years.”
He glanced at her again. There was a wisp of a smile about his features. “Careful,” he said. “The lady in question was only a few years older than me. I see no reason to assume her sexual urges had atrophied. Quite the reverse, in fact.”
“Nevertheless,” said Charlotte, aware that she had better tread carefully, “you would assume that Cynthia and her murderer had known each other for some time. Weren’t her family aware that she was having a relationship with someone?”
“Nothing’s come to light.” He concentrated on his driving as he slowed down for the roundabout at the end of the dual-carriageway, pulling into the right hand lane. “In fact her son was quite prickly about it when he was interviewed. Cynthia had only been a widow for about six months. Giles - the son - claimed that she and her husband had been a very happy couple. He was obviously shocked to think that his mother had found another man so soon after her husband’s death. I think we were both aware, when I was interviewing him, that the affair could have started before the old man’s death and Giles didn’t like that idea very much.”
Charlotte thought some more about it. “So nobody knows who this man is? Nobody saw him entering or leaving the room where the murder was committed and nobody noticed anyone unusual around the hotel at the time of the murder?”
“It’s a big hotel.” Paulson seemed defensive. “One of the biggest in Torbay. Nearly all the staff are foreign - mainly Italian or Portuguese. The manager himself is Italian - a Mr Montessori.”
“What time did the murder take place?”
“About six to six-thirty in the evening.”
Her brow furrowed. “And what time was the body discovered?”
“Just before seven. A maid went into the room and found her.” He smiled. “They called the local station.. Luckily I was still in the office and went straight over.”
“It seems a bit odd that they decided to go into the bedroom at that time.”
“Precisely,” said Paulson. “I asked the manager about that but he was rather evasive. He admits that nobody heard any noise or made any complaint. In fact the room showed no sign of anything more violent than
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