Page 41 of The Stranger in Room Six

I’ve dealt with some tough stuff in my time but this case is on another level. I have visions of my body dumped in the sea. My bosses expect results. And if they don’t get them, they’ll do whatever it takes to stop you talking.

So, I steel myself for certain death, whatever that might look like. Poison in my tea. A knife in the night. A muffled gunshot …

A knock at the door makes me jump.

I pull out my gun and, holding it behind my back, make my way to the door. My heart thumps.

But it’s Claudette, the singer I’ve bribed to keep an eye on Mabel. Thanks to college fees and a little run-in with the law, she was more than happy to join my payroll.

‘Come in,’ I say, looking around to check no one’s followed her. My heart’s racing, as if still catching up with the sight of Claudette, rather than a masked stranger.

‘I saw Mabel going for a long walk today with the new carer,’ she babbles excitedly. ‘It seems they’re spending quite a lot of time together nowadays.’

My skin prickles.

‘Where can I find this carer?’

‘She’s in the staff quarters on the top floor: Room Seventeen. Oh, and she’s off-duty tonight but she’ll be there. Never goes out much. Keeps herself to herself.’

Then she stops, looking expectantly at me. ‘Ah,’ I say, reaching into my pocket. ‘Of course.’ I hand over two ￡50 notes, my gun still held carefully behind my back.

‘Thank you,’ she says.

‘There’s more if you get anything else.’

It’s only after Claudette leaves that I realize that I’d forgotten to ask the carer’s name.

Never mind. I know where to find her.

Night falls.

I wait for the corridor to quieten. Everyone’s had supper – I have mine in my room to avoid questions that might blow my cover – and most of the residents have settled down with their television for the evening.

I walk past Room Seven, Mabel’s room. The door’s shut; no sounds coming from behind.

I’m tempted to barge in and squeeze the truth out of this old woman to get this job over and done with. But that won’t do. My boss wants me to avoid bloodshed ‘if possible’ because it wouldn’t look good in the headlines.

The staff rooms are up a back staircase. It’s not easy for me to climb but then again, it’s my disabilities that helped me get my spot here as a resident.

Here it is. Room Seventeen.

I’ll pretend I’m lost and ask if I can sit down because my ‘good’ leg is aching with the strain.

Then I’ll gently slip into the conversation that I’ve seen her with Mabel Marchmont and take it from there.

I can’t do too much too soon, or she might get suspicious.

Of course, I’ve got some bribes up my sleeve. Money usually works.

I knock.

Footsteps sound on the other side. I try to look as needy as possible.

The door opens.

Her face looks as if I’ve just slapped it. I can only imagine the shock written all over mine.

‘Belinda?’ I stammer.

She sways as if she’s seen a ghost, as well she might. ‘What are you doing here?’

Gathering myself, I bring out my gun. My strategy has changed.

‘I’ve come to kill you. Unless, of course, you do exactly what I say.’