Free Death and the Princess by Robert Barnard

Tredgold should have found himself here, unless the reason was the hotel itself, where he spent his last night. It doubled as the local pub, called itself The Wrekin, and was a splendid Elizabethan half-timber job with about thirty-odd bedrooms, which no doubt filled up nicely in the summer and in the spring holiday periods. It was not one of those places that aim to provide every mod. con. to go with the frisson of uneven floorsand oak-beamed ceilings. In fact, I doubted whether much modernization had taken place in the last fifty years or so. But it was comfortable and unpretentious, while being just that bit run down as well. Even the foyer, where the hotel reception was, had a nicely lived-in appearance, as if generations of farmers had eased their ample bottoms down into the armchairs.
    It was the owner who came when I rang, and I booked in for the night. I liked the look of the man, so I opened in on the subject immediately.
    ‘I’m afraid you’re not going to like this, but in point of fact, I’m Police. Scotland Yard. It’s that business of William Tredgold again.’
    ‘Good God, surely we’ve had enough of you here going into that, haven’t we? It’s not good for business, you know.’
    ‘It might be better for business to have had a murder in the place than to have had a leaky gas-fire,’ I pointed out.
    ‘Perhaps,’ the owner admitted gloomily. ‘That’s not the sort of publicity we like though, either way. Look, you’d better come through to the office.’
    So I went round the desk and settled snugly into the little den behind — more of the threadbare old furniture, and a nice coal fire for both of us to sit around. He introduced himself as Terence Shaply: he was about fifty-five — a capable, intelligent chap, the sort who might have retired here from his own business, enjoying both the occasional bustle and the normal humdrum course of things. I had no doubt the place was well-run, in an unostentatious sort of way.
    I said: ‘Look, I have the details of the previous investigations, but it might be helpful if you went over the main points again.’
    He sighed. ‘That’s what they all say. Well, here goes. He — or rather they — checked in somewhere around seven o’clock.’
    ‘Had the room been reserved in advance?’
    ‘Oh yes, earlier in the day. I took the call myself.’
    ‘So it definitely wasn’t just a casual visit — they hadn’t just been driving through and decided to stop.’
    ‘Oh no, we get quite a bit of that sort of custom, but this wasn’t one of that kind. To tell you the truth, they didn’t seem to know each other that well, and I’m afraid I assumed it was a dirty weekend, arranged pretty much on the spur.’
    ‘You hadn’t had him before, for that reason?’
    ‘Never seen him in my life, to my knowledge.’
    ‘Do you — don’t be offended — do you get many people here on dirty weekends? You’re not, so to speak, known for it?’
    ‘Certainly not! Many more likely places than us for that. If we have dirty weekenders it’s likely to be the quiet here that attracts them. In other words, one or both of them are probably married.’
    ‘Yes — and that wasn’t the case here.’
    ‘No, I gather not. Well, he booked in at the desk there, and we swapped a few remarks about the weather. She stood well aside, and didn’t say anything. They went up to their room, weren’t up there long, and then came down and had dinner. That’s when I got the idea they didn’t know each other all that well — ’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Well, the conversation was just that bit forced: lots of jokes and laughing, but some awkward silences too. They played footy under the table, and giggled. You don’t do that if you’ve been going out with each other any length of time.’
    ‘Indeed not. What did they do next?’
    ‘They didn’t linger over dinner. They went straight upstairs, and that was the last anyone here saw of them. Alive.’
    ‘I see. I suppose in the morning