Jigsaw Man Read Free Page A

alive, so it couldn’t
be her. He had left Jannicke’s room a few minutes after two. He remembered looking
at his watch.
    ‘There’s no answer so he lets himself in with a passkey,’ Johnson continued. ‘He
sees her on the bed, but there’s no sign of the man. It’s clear something’s wrong
so he calls the duty manager who comes up and takes a look and decides she’s dead.
He then dials 999. The call came in at one-thirty-nine and we got here just after
two.’
    As Johnson spoke, it struck Tartaglia that he had actually been there, in the hotel,
at the time of the murder. It was something that had never happened to him before
in connection with his work and he felt a little shaken by it. Had the killer stayed
around afterwards to watch the action, maybe waiting downstairs in the bar until
the police came? It wouldn’t be the first time.
    He thought back, picturing himself leaving Jannicke’s room – nobody in the corridor
outside – then coming down the main stairs and turning into the hall. A few people
were still milling around in the lobby and in the large sitting room beyond. Nothing
particularly noteworthy about that and he didn’t remember seeing anybody on their
own, let alone acting oddly. The bar had still been open and an Alex Clare song he
particularly liked had been playing. He was half tempted to stay and listen, but
had felt suddenly very tired. Leaving the building, he hadn’t been aware of anything
out of the ordinary. Nobody hanging around outside or behaving suspiciously, no commotion,
no sirens, no blue lights or obvious unmarked cars pulled up outside in the street.
He must have left just before CID got there. It had been raining earlier and he recalled
how pleasantly fresh the air had felt. He had paused to light a cigarette then walked
on, eventually hailing a cab along George Street. As far as he was aware, he had
witnessed nothing relevant to the investigation.
    ‘How long had Robert Herring been staying?’ he asked Johnson.
    ‘He arrived yesterday evening, just after seven p.m., and appeared to be on his own.
He was given a large double on the second floor, but he only asked for one key. He
gave a home address in Manchester, which we’re checking along with his other details.
There’s also a mobile number, but the phone’s switched off. The credit card that
was used to secure the room is in a different name. Nobody at reception remembers
seeing the woman or anybody asking for Herring and according to the switchboard no
calls were put through to that room all evening. As I said, she could be a pro, or
a girlfriend – or a guest staying in one of the other rooms, but until we speak to
everybody, we won’t know. A lot of the guests are still asleep.’
    ‘What about the hotel staff ?’
    ‘We’re taking statements from anyone still here who was on duty last night. I can
give you the full list of names.’
    Tartaglia looked at Minderedes. ‘You’d better start waking up the guests as soon
as the rest of the team gets here.’
    ‘A few are already up,’ Johnson said, ‘but we told them to go back to their rooms.
We’ve closed off the second floor entirely, so nobody can go in or out. We’ve left
the main stairs open but we’ve stopped access to the lifts and the back stairs unless
authorised. Do you want to take it any further than that?’
    Tartaglia shook his head. ‘That’s fine for now. Just make sure nobody leaves the
hotel until they’ve been spoken to and their IDs have been checked.’ Theoretically,
he would have liked to lock down the entire hotel, but it wouldn’t be practical.
    ‘Have you got a map of this place?’ he asked.
    Johnson handed him a sheet of paper. ‘This is the ground floor.’
    ‘What about cameras?’
    ‘There are a few dotted around, here and here,’ he said, marking the paper for Tartaglia.
‘It’s pretty minimal coverage, though. The manager gave me some spiel about guests
needing their privacy. I suppose they get their fair