At The Plaza Majestic.

Chapter 5

"You know" I heard one woman say to her neighbour. "I was in the room next door. You know, to the murder. It must have been done frightfully quietly, as I'm such a light sleeper and I didn't hear a thing."

"I bet it's those circus folk" a man commented loudly. "Can't trust them."

"It must have been so horrible" an old lady twittered to Smart, as I casually listened in.

"To die in such a manner! Face and body destroyed by a knife! The police say it's one of the worst they've ever seen! They still don't know where the murder weapon is."

I felt Smart tense up. I took his arm more firmly, and we joined the curious crowd as they mobbed the poor Scotland Yard man as he rather foolishly came back into the lobby. We didn't join in with the shouts, merely looked keenly over people's heads as they accused and complained and generally were, well, people in a crisis.

After the Scotland Yard man had finally worked his way through us and escaped back to the police station, Smart and I went back up to my floor. We were on a hunt for one thing, and one thing only.

The cleaner's cart.

Since we had apparently deciphered that abseiling in through the window was an almost impossible idea, the only other way we could think of was if someone had hidden in the cleaner's cart and been left in the room.

We found it on the floor above mine, actually, and it was a very rickety old thing. The wheel squeaked and the trays rattled and the whole thing looked like it was going to fall apart any second. It was also, quite obviously, far too small for anyone to hide in.

I felt a bit dejected as we came away. There must have been something I hadn't thought about. There was, obviously, because nothing was impossible. But what was it?

We were going out for lunch, and I was waiting for Smart in the lobby. As I did so, watching the guests and the staff come and go, I spotted another suitcase sitting unattended on the floor. It seemed like an ordinary sort of suitcase, and I couldn't tell who had brought it in. But even as I puzzled, a porter came, picked it up, and took it away out of a back door.

"Are you coming?" Smart appeared behind me.

"Yes" I replied vaguely, allowing him to lead me away. We had specially chosen the tearoom, named Nellie's Little Teashop as Smart knew how empty it always was, and how difficult it was to find. Hopefully, nobody from the Plaza Majestic would find us here.

"What do you think?" Smart asked, after we had been brought lunch and left alone.

"I think how I always think at this stage" I replied curtly. "Without a clue."

Smart sighed, smiling weakly.

"I have to say, I agree with you" he said, folding his arms, crossing his legs, and leaning back on his chair.

"We don't know how the murderer got into the room. The cleaning cart is out of the question, as is through the window, really. Unless the murderer had a key..."

"But what if he did?" I asked suddenly, almost dropping my teacup. "Say he did! Say...say that the hotel isn't a premises for the smuggling gang, say in fact that it is the gang. Where would that take you?"

"Whoever killed Peter would have had access to his room at any time" Smart agreed grimly. "But, if you are right, how deep are we in now?"

"Pretty deep" I nodded. "Do you reckon the Yard will work this out?"

Smart hissed through his teeth.

"Let's hope so" he agreed.

"So" I said. "We think we know who the gang is. Which logically also means the client is also somewhere in the hotel. Question is, what do we do now?"

Smart cracked his knuckles, making me cringe at the sounds, and took a mouthful of his lunch as he thought.

"Let's not leave just yet" he mused aloud. "We'll try to work out exactly how the stuff is being passed on. Hopefully, we'll be able to tip off the Yard before they move out."

"Hopefully" I agreed, but then the dull, podgy little waitress showed in some more diners, so we had to close that conversation and pick up a dreadfully boring discussion on a totally made up nephew of mine.

That night, I tried to work out exactly what was bothering me. It had been niggling at the back of my mind all day, but I just could not pinpoint it. Smart seemed pretty happy with everything that had gone on, so I had to assume it was something that I had seen and he hadn't. As for what it was, I hadn't a clue, and I hated not knowing.

I crossed over to the window again, looking out over the circus. That was another thing that bothered me. Why were they here? It seemed a very awkward place to set up camp, I decided.

As I looked, my eye was caught by a shaft of light, signalling a back door opening a little way along on the ground floor of the Plaza. Two figures came out, and in the dim light, I couldn't make out their faces very well, but one of them was an older man, quite broad in stature and with a strange wisp of beard on his chin, and the other was younger and leaner, carrying a huge sack of something, slung over his shoulder. They spoke a few words to each other, before hurrying to the circus grounds, and disappearing into the shadows.

As long as I watched, they didn't return.