'I guess we better round up Matteo,' Rita said, feeling groggy. The more awake she felt, the more the nauseous feeling in her stomach grew. 'I'll knock on his door. I assume he came back last night?'
'My brother just messaged,' Alfonso said. 'And - well, you'll love this. He's just this second walked through their door.'
'Oh. At 8 in the morning? Dios mio,' she said, feeling apprehensive. She replaced the underwear she'd just absent mindedly picked up back in her suitcase. Her mind lingered on Donna's bizarre conversation and Erica, lying on the carpet.
'Federico's mentioned that he sometimes does this. Just up and leaves. He said he felt ill, he thought the food was bad, and didn't want to be there.' Honestly, Rita couldn't blame him. If she was being kind she'd say the event's atmosphere was distasteful. The overall vibe straight up seemed to glorify killers like the one she'd survived last year.
'Picked the worst possible time to do it, didn't he.' If only they had stuck to the original plan - walking in Scotland, then spending the extra time off at the sanctuary with the animals they both loved.
'Metropolis is offering a free three nights in a hotel of our choice,' Alfonso said. Rita shut her suitcase and pulled it upright, dragging it close to the door. All her clothes immediately spilled out.
'Alternatively, my brother's offered to put us up.'
Rita stared at the clothes in despair. She shook her head.
'Rita?' Alfonso hadn't noticed.
'Oh...fuck,' she whispered, bending down to scoop them up. 'Fuck. I don't know.'
'Well, my brother's not the tidiest, and the house is a bit small. Then again, he does have three cats. He's a good guy,' Alfonso said. Rita had looked forward to meeting Federico. The thought of hanging out in his family home was tempting, rather than lying in another soulless hotel room, listening to the sounds and letting her mind wander. She wondered how she would cope experiencing the sort of family life that she'd never really had.
'Let's do it,' Rita said. 'Being in another hotel like this one doesn't appeal right now.'
After re-packing them and closing the suitcase for the second time, this time remembering to do it up, she opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. A lot of other guests were making their way downstairs towards the small lift, the one which was still working. Some looked pale and shocked, others looked oblivious or even angry.
Was one of them a killer?
'...the whole thing is cancelled. Well, I'll be demanding my money back. I was looking forward to the Crime Convention. It's the highlight of my year. Aren't you disappointed as well?' A woman pressed the shiny gold button in the wall again and again until the lift arrived. A lanyard round her neck identified her as Sandra Horsforth.
'Yeah - well, someone's been murdered, haven't they,' a middle aged Black man with glasses said as they all entered. He wore a light blue starched shirt. 'I, personally, don't want to carry on staying here as normal with a potential killer.'
'Murdered?' Sandra snapped. Alfonso gave her an odd glance and then quickly looked back to Rita. 'I knew the police were here. I didn't know there was a murder. We're all interested in crime. Collectively, I'm sure we know how to solve crimes better than they do. They're too in thrall to the establishment.'
Sandra laughed, but there was an insistent, aggressive edge to it. 'Besides, having a real murder at the convention makes it a bit more exciting, don't you think? There's nothing like a good mystery to get the adrenaline pumping.'
The man rolled his eyes. 'Don't be stupid. I'm out of here.'
The doors to the lobby opened. The crime scene themed 'decor' and killer-themed merch of the Convention had been abruptly tidied away, replaced by adonyne corporate vibes again. Once they were out of the lift, Alfonso said in an undertone, 'That's that woman who was telling people Eloise was innocent.'
Rita stole an uneasy glance in her direction. Sandra was definitely intense. Part of her wanted to laugh. But it was hard not to overanalyse every word for sinister intentions this morning.
Being a true crime enthusiast didn't make you a killer.
Rita enjoyed occasional true crime podcasts and documentaries herself. Some podcasts had helped to catch murderers and bring to light miscarriages of justice. Hadn't a listener of a true crime podcast helped catch Henry Dixon?
It might have even been Case Report...
Alfonso handed Rita his card and Crime Convention lanyard. She strode up to the front desk. A sad looking pot plant drooped on the edge of the shiny hotel counter. Rita stared at it as she dropped the lanyards and key cards in a blue box on the counter.
'Excuse me, madam. Just to inform you, we're handing the key cards in to the police, so that they can check what times you left your room and how many times, and match the timings on the cards to other witnesses that have given statements,' the receptionist said. They were attractive, with pale skin, shoulder length black hair and glasses.
'Fine.' Rita nodded.
'The app is having issues, so I will ask you to fill this out.' The receptionist pushed a form in Rita's direction and she added her signature. For a second, she remembered how the killer's accomplices had hacked the hotel where one of his victims had been found. But she put it out of her mind. The activity on the card would definitively rule her and Alfonso out.
'According to our records, this booking is under the name of Federico Cadiz,' the receptionist said, after placing the form under a scanner. 'It includes Rita Silvera, Alfonso Cadiz and Matteo Cadiz. You must be Rita, and this is Alfonso's key card here. Is that correct?'
'Yeah,' Rita said.
'Is Matteo with you?' the receptionist said.
'No,' Rita said, something prickling on her back. 'I assumed he'd checked out. He left last night and his door was shut this morning.'
'No, he didn't,' the receptionist said. Rita felt like she'd been punched.
'Could you inform him that we need him to return his key card and his consent to give it to the police? There's a £70 charge if these are damaged or stolen. We need it urgently, especially under the circumstances.'
'We will do,' Rita said. She walked back to Alfonso, feeling nauseous as she digested the implications of what she had just heard.
Matteo had left in the night, without checking out, and turned up at Federico's house at 8am. He had not given back the card which would prove his alibi.
Or disprove it.
Rita sat down heavily on a fake leather seat that was arranged in a ring around a stone pillar. She looked towards the doors. A knot formed in her stomach. Next to her on the seat was a book - 'Jack the Ripper: Unmasking a Monster' by Jon Phillips. She picked it up and looked it over.
'Are you okay? Last night must have been terrible for you,' Alfonso said.
A memory came into her mind, a memory of Erica staring at Matteo, staring at him like she hated him. Her hands were cold and sweaty. Her pulse raced. Was it really him she had been looking at?
Rita took a deep breath. She could come out with the usual bullshit. I don't want to impose. All the rest of it. But Alfonso would know something was up. She really, really did not want to lie to him. Even to 'save his feelings'.
'Honestly - I'm worried about Matteo. He has not given back his key card and didn't check out of his room. The police will need the card to confirm where he was, but he just left without a word to anyone. Someone's just been murdered. I want to know the explanation. I find it weird as hell.'
Alfonso shook his head. 'Trust me, I get it.'
'I'm not sure about staying there tonight, after learning this,' Rita said, standing up. 'If we've got a free stay at a hotel, maybe we should just use it.'
'I get it,' Alfonso said sadly as they left the hotel and stepped onto the street. The air in London at this time of year was dry but cold. 'I've been having the same thoughts. He's not a bad kid, but...things are difficult. His mum walked out on them when they were kids and it had a big effect. Federico's quite worried about him, between you and me. It is really weird to do that.'
'In what way?' Rita said. She got out her phone and looked on Google Maps for the metro. They called it the tube here for some reason.
'Apart from the interest in serial killers, which - as we can see, lots of people have to be honest, he's been a bit cagey about it. He's quite over protective of him and his sister but I get the feeling there's stuff he's not telling me. I hope I can get a sense of what's going on this evening. So I can help them out.'
He looked at her. 'It looks really weird. But I don't think he could have done this. He's got his issues but Federico brought him up right. He's not a killer.'
Rita said nothing.
'Matteo's not a killer. He can't be,' Alfonso repeated, with much less confidence. He looked pale. Rita put a hand on his arm. 'He can't. Surely.'
They approached the underground stop, which was set in the middle of the pavement near a row of pubs and cafes. Rita glanced at her handbag and suddenly realised she had put the Jack the Ripper book into it by mistake. She supposed she should have handed it in but if a book was found in a public place it couldn't be seen as theft.
And going back to that hotel was the last thing Rita wanted to do. Her stomach twisted as Erica's body appeared in her mental vision again.
Alfonso glanced at the underground and shook his head. 'There's a Metropolis Hotel near where my brother lives in Plumstead. The place doesn't get many tourists so we're unlikely to run into anyone from the convention. Let's go there, and then make a decision.'
'Let's get something to eat first,' Rita said.