Page 66 of The Dead Come to Stay

MacAdams managed to break the tip of his pencil, embedding lead in the page.

“To a ditch?” he asked.

Tula leaned over, full lips parted and eyes half-closed.

“I’ve a motive now, I expect,” she said.

She did, and it gave Ben a motive, too, for that matter. Did he think they were suspects? No. Did he need to know their movements the night of the murder? Hell yes.

“Statement. Both of you. And you know what I’ll need—”

“To eliminate us from your enquiries,” Tula finished for him. “You’ll have ’em. But just remember, James, I needn’t have told you. And without me, you’d never know.” She gave him a wink after that, a touch triumphant because utterly true.

Green let out a long, low whistle. “Fuck me,” she said.

“Quite.”

“What are we to do with all that?”

“Find previous on Rhyan Flannery,” MacAdams said, reaching for his buzzing phone. “And see if our man Foley was preparing to cut and run again. MacAdams here.”

He was in for a shock.

“It’s the Abington Arms,” said the voice on the line. “Your mystery woman just turned up... and then disappeared just as quickly.”

“Right, Green, call in Uniform; Foley’s woman has turned up—” He’d headed back toward the car but Arianna’s voice cut into the phone line.

“That’s notall,” she said. “She came here to pick something up.”

***

Arianna was waiting for them, arms crossed over her green blazer. As it turned out, the Abington Arms provided lockers to their esteemed returning guests. The idea, said Arianna, was to provide regulars with “convenience.” It was hard for MacAdams not to see the potential implications for less-legal activity. Like storing stolen art.

“Why didn’t you say this before?” Green asked, despite promising to mostly stay mum. Arianna chose to answer MacAdams instead.

“I didn’t know she’d left anything. I’m not the coat check.” She led the way to a large room in the back, possibly a sort of livery service at some point. The tall units were large enough to hang several large coats—even a small wardrobe.

“How many of your guests get this sort of special treatment?” MacAdams asked.

“It’s technically available to everyone, if they ask,” Arianna told him.

Green stepped ever so slightly between them. “That wasn’t the question, though, was it?”

“Five,” Arianna barked. “You can see that for yourself.” She swept a long arm toward the lockers, five of which had been bolted shut. Then she continued to address MacAdams exclusively. “I was at the desk when she arrived.”

“Tell me everything she said from beginning to end,” MacAdams said.

“Not difficult; she didn’t say anything. Just presented me with a ticket for number twelve.” Arianna held up the key. “I asked her name. She wouldn’t speak. So I told her to wait and came to call you. When I returned, she’d gone. I sent the bell hop running out after, and the security guard, too.”

“But she didn’t get what she wanted?” MacAdams said, nodding. “Well done. She might be back.”

“Not if all the hotel staff are chasing around town for her,and us here in marked cars,” Green suggested. And it was a fair point. He drummed his fingers against the locker.

“All right. Arianna, let’s see what’s inside.”

“It’s a private client’s locker.”

“Yes, and you called the police because you know it’s a murder investigation—do you want us to wait for a search warrant?” MacAdams asked.