Fireflies Read Free

hotel guests. 
         ‘I think it looks personal to me’ said Jeff. ‘The killer had good reason in their mind to mutilate someone in that way. Whoever did this is making a point of some kind’
         ‘Remind me to go on that profiling course’ said Rebecca.
         ‘Yes, I think you should’ said Jeff. ‘It would be useful and add to your already well honed detective skills’.
         ‘Are you flattering me, sir?’
         ‘Really DS Stockton’ said Jeff, smiling. ‘The thought never crossed my mind’.
         Helen Curzon was sitting in her office next to the reception desk as if she expected all around her to dance to her tune without question. Jeff took her to be in her early fifties and she was wearing a black tailored suit of short jacket and knee length skirt. Her wavy hair was a hazel colour and swept back revealing an open face with large soft blue eyes. Her white open necked blouse looked like it came from one of the more expensive Manchester retailers and the ensemble was finished off with jewellery that could never be described as costume. Her finger nails looked false but coated in the deepest red and she had a trim figure. She clearly used much of whatever disposable income she had on her appearance. Jeff and Rebecca introduced themselves.
         ‘And you’re Mrs. Helen Curzon?’ asked Rebecca.
         ‘Yes. I’m the co-owner of the Mayfair hotel with my husband Brian’.
         ‘Mrs. Curzon, I’m sure my colleague DC Wright has explained that we do look for your full co-operation here’ said Jeff.
         ‘And there speaks the civil servant as opposed to someone who lives in the real world of the private business owner’ said Helen, her voice like ice falling on an enamel board and making a screeching sound that made everyone shudder.
         ‘Excuse me?’ said Jeff, his shackles rising.
         ‘Detective, my husband and I have built this business up over several years and we have an enviable reputation in the higher end of the business and leisure market’.
         ‘It still doesn’t stop you offering incentives of cheap lager every Friday and Saturday night for the binge drinking crowd’ Rebecca pointed out. ‘I saw the posters on our way in’. She’d already had a bucket full of this odious woman.
         Helen Curzon smirked as if she was speaking to a complete underling who was rather stupid. ‘We meet that particular market at the weekend but it doesn’t stop us from meeting a different kind of market during the week’ said Helen, flatly. ‘That’s how private enterprise responds with flexibility’.
         ‘Mrs. Curzon, a man has been murdered and the body left at the back of your hotel’ said Jeff, sternly. ‘Isn’t that a matter of importance to you?’
         ‘The only matter of importance in my life is my husband and making him happy, detective’.
         ‘And I’m sure he very much appreciates that but back to the matter in hand if you don’t mind’ said Jeff. 
         ‘Oh look I’m aware of the gravity of the situation, detective’ said Helen. ‘Of course I am. But my hotel has 297 rooms and last night we were running at ninety percent occupancy which is no mean feat considering the current economic climate. Do you realise the implications on my business this could have?’
         ‘I do Mrs. Curzon but with all due respect your business concerns are not at the top of my list of priorities’ Jeff retorted. ‘Finding a killer is. Now I presume you have a night manager?’
         ‘Yes’ said Helen as if it was causing her physical pain to co-operate. ‘He went home at five because he has a dental appointment today and needed to adjust his sleep pattern. He’ll be making up the hours tonight by coming in early’.
         ‘The name of the night manager?’ asked Rebecca.
         ‘Julian Fowler. He lives over in Marple. I expect you’ll require his