Free Secret of the Skull by Simon Cheshire Page B

to work out what Soup du Jour might mean, when a movement caught my eye. I glanced back across the courtyard and saw Beeks limping over to the office window. He reached
up and shut the blinds.
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘Huh?’ I said.
    ‘Are you ready to order, sir?’ sighed Vernon.
    ‘Oh! Ummm . . .’
    I returned my gaze to the window. The blinds were open again. Beeks was back at his desk, working away for all the world to see.
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘Oh! Sorry!’ I said. ‘Er, have you got any curry?’
    ‘As it’s a special occasion, sir, I’m sure Chef can oblige,’ said Vernon.
    ‘Oh great, I’ll have that, then. Thanks,’ I said with a grin.
    Once Vernon had oozed away to the kitchen, all the others at the table stared at me.
    ‘Curry?’ said Izzy quietly.
    ‘I like curry,’ I said, even more quietly.
    The restaurant was getting slightly busier now. Our table was rippling with chatter.
    I wondered why Beeks had shut those blinds for, what was it, no more than thirty seconds? Was he signalling to someone? However, as he was clearly carrying on with his work, I let the matter
pass. Maybe he liked to have as good a view of the restaurant as the restaurant had of him?
    Within a minute of each other, two people entered the restaurant who grabbed my attention. The first was a tall, neatly clipped man in a spotless black suit. Vernon indicated a table towards the
back of the room, but the man asked if he could sit closer to the entrance.
    He grabbed my attention because I could have sworn I knew him from somewhere. I couldn’t quite work out why.
    I nudged Izzy. ‘That guy over there, the one in the black suit,’ I whispered. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen him before. Does he ring any bells with you?’
    ‘Nope.’ Izzy shrugged. ‘He could just be someone you’ve seen in a shop, or something like that.’
    ‘Hmm,’ I muttered. ‘Dunno.’
    The second person to grab my attention appeared. This was a much shorter man, wearing a light brown leather jacket. His face had more lines than a school exercise book and was topped with a
messy thatch of ginger hair.
    This one caught my attention for a totally different reason. As Vernon approached him and asked if he was a hotel guest or just visiting the restaurant, the man replied that he was in room
217.
    I nudged Izzy again. ‘That’s the smuggler. Moss.’
    Izzy nudged Susan and whispered in her ear.
    ‘Ooooh,’ whispered Susan, leaning over to me. ‘Do you think his pockets are loaded with diamonds?’
    ‘No, I’m sure the diamonds will have been put in the safe in his room,’ I whispered, switching my gaze nervously between Moss, Black Suit Man and Beeks over in his office.
‘Otherwise, why book a room at all? He could simply meet his contact here in the restaurant. No, I expect he’ll be worried about being ambushed by rival crooks. The diamonds will be
locked away.’
    Moss seemed to be deep in conversation with Vernon the waiter. He brandished a bright red slip of paper at Vernon, which Vernon took, read, handed back, took again and finally walked off with,
looking slightly puzzled.
    ‘What’s that paper?’ I whispered to Susan. ‘I’m sure I saw the hotel’s logo on it.’
    ‘That’s an ACV,’ whispered Susan, looking as puzzled as Vernon.
    ‘A what?’
    ‘Sorry, that’s just what Mum and Dad call them. Awkward Customer Vouchers. They get given out when hotel guests have had loads of things go wrong. Luggage missing, forgotten wake-up
calls, that sort of thing. It gives them a free dinner here in the restaurant. Goodness knows why he’d have one, he’s only just got here.’
    ‘He couldn’t have been given one by your mum when he checked in?’ I said.
    ‘No way,’ said Susan. ‘Dad says they can cost the hotel a small fortune because whenever someone gets given one they go mad and eat all the most expensive stuff on the menu.
Only the real moaners ever get one.’
    Moss was busy giving Vernon the waiter a long list of main courses and