Lorraine hung up and eased out from behind the desk. She glanced quickly round the reception area, and could see the manager deep in conversation with the journalist. Shielding with her body what she was doing, she began to flick through the accounts, looking for Vallance’s name, noting that all outgoing calls appeared on the bills. She leaned closer to turn over the pages, but there was nothing under the name Vallance. Lorraine straightened up and was about to go when a computer screen caught her eye. She walked over to it. The cursor was blinking on account ledgers. She entered her own name, and her check-out time, outgoing phone calls and other items on her bill came up on room 5. She moved to room 6, and saw that it had been booked, not in Vallance’s name but in that of Margaretta Forwood. The date of arrival and an intended length of stay of two days had been entered, but a cancellation typed in subsequently, with the booking fee, luncheon, wine and phone calls in a column opposite. There were four calls to LA, one to Chicago, and two local numbers, one of which she recognized immediately. Sonja Nathan’s.
She heard footsteps behind her, and turned, reaching for her cigarette pack from the desk. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Fischer,’ she said, glancing at his name-badge. ‘I’m sorry to leave my bags for so long and if it’s inconvenient I’ll...’
‘Not at all. Do you know how long you’ll be here, just in case anyone else should call for you?’
Lorraine said that she was now intending to take the six o’clock bus into New York.
‘I hope you enjoyed your stay with us.’
‘I did, very much. It’s been a pretty terrible day for you, though, hasn’t it?’
‘Yes, dreadful. It’s tragic, just terrible.’
‘How is his companion?’ Lorraine asked, assuming a look of sincere concern.
The man sucked in his breath. ‘Well, the poor woman is distraught — he didn’t leave a note. They had just decided not to stay over. Mrs Forwood had gone to the bar and their cases were being brought down. Mr Vallance walked past me, and I think he smiled — I know I acknowledged him, because I recall seeing him coming down the stairs. He didn’t appear to be in a hurry, very casual, and he left the hotel.’
‘How long after that was the body found?’
He blinked rapidly. ‘I can’t be too sure, not long. Mrs Forwood was just leaving, and next minute we heard this screaming.’
‘You didn’t hear any gunshot?’
‘No, nothing. Everything’s pretty confused — the shock, I suppose — but I ran out to the car park. She was hysterical, couldn’t speak, just screamed and screamed, and then I saw him. The gun was in his hand, but he was sitting upright.’
He was interrupted by the telephone and excused himself to take the call. Lorraine waited, but another phone rang, and then another, lights blinking on the board. She walked out, hearing him refuse to comment on the day’s events.
Lorraine made her way into the bar. The crowd had thinned, and a stool was vacant at the far side. She ordered a Coke and lit another cigarette, discreetly eavesdropping on conversations which all centred on the suicide of Raymond Vallance.
Carina, the pretty blonde, now came on duty. She no longer seemed upset, if anything rather enjoying the notoriety of having served Vallance and his lady-friend their luncheon. ‘He was so charming. I was asking for an autograph for my mother — she had been such a fan of his — and he was so obliging.’ Lorraine stubbed out her cigarette, unable to repress a small smile: poor Vallance — the last thing he would have wanted to hear from an attractive young girl was that she wanted an autograph for her mother. The girl went on, ‘They’d finished eating and were just having a Madeira when he left the table and said he had to call his agent. He was here for a big movie — that’s what he told us, wasn’t it?’ The barman nodded, polishing a champagne flute. ‘It was going to be shot here, that’s what he said.’
‘Well, he certainly got shot,’ said a man with bushy eyebrows, and there were a few guffaws, but even more murmurs of disapproval at the joke, and he apologized. Lorraine wished he would be quiet, as she was trying to hear the rest of what Carina had to say, but the girl was called out into Reception.
Lorraine followed and saw her go into the office. The phone was ringing constantly and the manager was clearly at his wit’s end. He covered the receiver and told Carina to get someone to help him. Carina nodded, and turned back, almost bumping into Lorraine.
‘Are you all right?’ Lorraine asked, with a show of concern. ‘It must have been dreadful for you. You found him, didn’t you?’
The girl was clearly happy to talk. ‘No, I didn’t, but I served him lunch.’
Lorraine waited while she was told the entire story about how Carina had asked for his autograph for her mother. ‘Did he have any calls?’
‘Yes. He got up from the table either to go and call someone, or I think there was a call for him.’ She sighed, and tears welled up in her wide blue eyes.
Lorraine gave a brittle smile. ‘But at least your mother has his autograph, and it’ll be of considerable interest now — the last one he ever gave!’
Carina blinked, aware of the sarcasm, then hurried into the bar.
Lorraine decided to screw subtlety, and went into the manager’s office. ‘Sorry to bother you again.’
Fischer looked up, one phone in his hand, a second off the hook in front of him. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Page, but I really am very busy. If you need—’
She interrupted, ‘I do need something — I want to know who called Mr Vallance. If you don’t have the name, then I would like to see the number.’
He gaped, then flushed. ‘I’m sorry, that’s private information.’
‘I know, and I’m a private investigator.’ She took out her wallet, and showed her ID.
‘I’m sorry, but I’ve been instructed by the police not to divulge any information or discuss the incident with anyone.’ Lorraine took out her wallet, and the man stood up, flushing a still deeper pink. ‘Please don’t even consider offering me money.’
She slipped her wallet back into her purse. Since the direct approach hadn’t worked, she tried another. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m conducting an investigation into the murder of Harry Nathan. Raymond Vallance was his closest friend. I have to report back to LA this evening, and until I have the coroner’s report, I have to consider the possibility that Mr Vallance was also murdered.’
The manager’s flush drained, leaving his face chalk white.
‘I don’t want anyone to know what I’m investigating. I have full co-operation from the East Hampton police, and I’m sure you will assist me.’
He opened a drawer and took out a sheet of computer printout.
He looked down at Mrs Forwood’s account, and said that some local calls had been made when Mr Vallance arrived and some to Los Angeles during the early part of the morning. The last call, though, had been on Vallance’s mobile, and the hotel had no way of knowing who or where it came from.
‘So, Mr Vallance left the dining room because a call came through?’
‘Yes, on the mobile. We don’t allow them in the dining room so he had checked it at the desk. He was speaking to someone on the phone when he went upstairs to his room.’ Lorraine watched while the man went to the computer, and typed the commands for a printout of the Forwood account.
‘Has Mrs Forwood left?’ Lorraine asked, as the machine printed.