Free To Make a Killing by K.A. Kendall

Krapolsky. Terrible business this” he said, though his smile still remained. No doubt he eyed a commercial potential in the tragic circumstances. “It’s this way.”
     
    As Keane made his way up the stairs, he wondered why Russell would voluntarily have stayed here. Krapolsky unlocked the door, stepped back and the forensics team moved in. Keane and the others peered in through the doorway, until forensics had finished their preliminary work. There was disappointingly little to see. Not because their view was blocked, but because the spartan room was so small. A single unmade bed, two opened cases on the floor, apparently containing nothing but clothes; no holdall.
     
    “You can come in now. There’s no sign of any crime having been committed here.” said Jones the head of the forensic crew.
     
    Jones was right, thought Keane. There was hardly any sign of anything at all having happened here. It took next to no time to confirm that the only items of interest were the cases and their contents. “May we?” asked Keane. Jones nodded. Hayes and Keane placed the cases on the bed. Their gloved hands were soon removing items of clothing. Eventually the cases were empty. All they had found of interest were two books about wine, ‘Bordeaux’ finest vintages’ and ‘Pauillac for Kings’.
     
    “Look at this” said Jenkins and she read aloud a hand-written dedication at the front of ‘Pauillac for Kings’: “To Brett from Mike – in case you get stumped!”
     
    “And there’s more here” said Hayes, having leafed through the other book, “An address: 16, Lexington Gardens, SW7 and a word, ‘en . . . it’s not English, I think it says . . .”
     
    “Enchanté” said Keane looking over Hayes shoulder. “Anything else in there? Loose papers? Anything on the inside of the dust cover?”
     
    “No, sir.” replied Jenkins and Hayes in unison.
     
    “Well, as we’ve seen all there is to see here, and we know exactly where our next destination is, I think we’ll leave this to the experts. May we take these?” asked Keane. Jones placed each book in a plastic bag before he handed them over to Keane.
     
    Once back down in the reception, Keane asked Krapolsky his questions, “Did Russell say anything to you about what he was doing here?”
     
    Krapolsky had a habit of starting and stifling a laugh whenever anyone spoke to him and it soon got on Keane’s nerves.
     
    “Never spoke to him, apart from when he checked in, and that was only about the room.”
     
    “Had he stayed here before?”
     
    “No, never”.
     
    “You say he paid in advance for a week. Was that in cash?”
     
    “Yeah.” remembered Krapolsky
     
    “What name did he use?”
     
    Krapolsky looked in his register, “Pete Townsend, I think . . . no, hang on, Paul Tower.”
     
    “Did he receive any visitors?”
     
    “Not that I know of.”
     
    “Has this woman been here in the last 2-3 weeks?” Keane showed Krapolsky the photo fit picture.
     
    “Hmm. That could be anybody. No. No-one looking just like that.”
     
    “Well, thank you Mr. Krapolsky. If you do remember anything, please call us at this number right away” Keane handed him his card, and they left the building.
     
    *********
     
    Keane usually preferred not to be driven by others, but there were advantages to being driven in Hayes’ car: Hayes was quieter when he was doing the driving and he knew how to get around London better than Keane did. Furthermore, Keane would be able to concentrate on the case, and in Hayes’ car there was room for three passengers.
     
    After a while, Keane broke the silence: “You know, Hayes, I have to admit I haven’t given enough credence to your idea that Russell was involved in some criminal act. All this cloak and dagger behaviour, the choice of this hotel, using cash only; it’s very suspicious. It’s just what you would do if you didn’t want anyone tracing your tracks.” Hayes smiled. “Jenkins, give Jones a call.