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Central International Airport This choice: Justin contacts reception to get the police onto the scene. • Go Back... The victim looked to be in his late forties, at Justin's guess, with a shaggy mop of gray hair atop a face that wasn't so much lived in as it was squatted in. He lay as though he were merely sleeping, sprawled diagonally across the bed in a posture that suggested a hot, restless night. And the sight was oddly clean; no indication of struggle. 'Thad, this will sound dumb,' Justin admitted, 'but... are you sure he's dead?'
'Kid, I've done tours in Iraq and in Somalia in my time. Believe me, I know from dead when I see it.'
'Sure, of course. Jesus, we'd better call the police, or something...' Half-dazed, Justin picked up the receiver of the phone on the nightstand. 'Hello, this is Dr. Avery in room 407. I need you to call the police immediately.'
'Oh?' responded the male voice at the other end. 'Is something amiss, sir?'
'Well, there's a corpse on my bed; I'd say that that's pretty damned amiss, wouldn't you?'
'Oh.' It surprised Justin that the fellow on the front desk didn't seem more perturbed; but with the number of guests that must pass through a hotel this size, he reasoned, purely by the law of averages some people must die during their stay. 'Of course, sir. I'll contact them at once. Do you need any assistance yourself?'
'No, no, I'm fine. Just... thank you.' Justin replaced the receiver, noticing the slight tremor in his hand as he did so. 'They're coming,' he told his brother.
'Good. In the meantime, get yourself out here and sit down.' Thad was rummaging through a small cupboard alongside the TV. 'Ah, I knew there had to be something in here that'd suit. Here, get this into you,' he said, handing Justin an opened bottle of Coors. Ignoring his brother's attempts at protest, the airman went on. 'This is the first time you've seen a dead body, right?'
'Well... yeah, it is.'
'Then drink the beer. Trust me, it helps. For the first one, anyway.'
Justin took the beer, sipped it cautiously. Alcohol usually hit him hard, although that might not be a bad thing just now. Thad picked out an imported Guinness for himself, took a long pull from the bottle. 'Ahh... I needed that,' he sighed. 'You mind if I ask you something, bro?'
'Course not. Shoot.' Justin winced; foot-in-mouth disease again. 'Sorry. That was just wrong.'
Thad ignored the faux pas, possibly didn't recognize it. 'You know that guy?'
'Never seen him before.'
'Okay. It just seems strange, there's none of his stuff here, from the look of it. If he'd had this room before you, shouldn't there be some of his clothes, at least?'
'I'd guess so. I'll go check in the closets; maybe there's some...' The phone rang in the bedroom, disturbingly loud over the brothers' hushed voices. 'Maybe the police have got here. I'll get it.'
Justin plucked the receiver and had barely got it to his ear when the voice at the other end spoke. Not the desk clerk; and evidently not the Honolulu police, either...
'Good evening, Ms. Marks. I trust you're settling in suitably well? The view from your room should be excellent; I recommend you try to be up early to enjoy the sunrise.' Justin was about to speak when he registered the surname. Taff?
'Oh. Not speaking?' the voice continued. 'I suppose you must have found Mr. Dressler. He wasn't overly enthused about coming to meet you, but I talked him around in the end. He's told me a lot about you, you know; I almost feel as though we know each other very well already. But I do look forward to making your acquaintance.'
Justin couldn't stay silent. 'Who the hell is this?' he shouted. The voice on the other end fell silent; after a long five seconds, he heard the click of the line going dead.
Justin's hand went to his shirt pocket. Yes, there inside it was the scribbled note that Taffina Marks had given him. She was staying at the Kapalama, too, it seemed; and she'd given him a cellphone number, in case he wanted to take her up on the offer she'd made him on the plane.
The police would be here shortly; they'd need to know everything. But from the way that the mystery man was talking, Taff and Dressler - assuming that the dead man was Dressler - knew each other. She'd want to know, surely?  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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