Deliver Us From Evil (A. Shaw 2)

“He didn’t check out. At least not while I’ve been on duty.”

“Can you examine the register from before you came on duty?”

The man sighed but did so. “He didn’t check out.”

“Then can you go to his room?”

“Why?”

“To see if he’s okay. He might be ill or he might’ve fallen.”

“I seriously doubt that—”

“He’s an American. They sue over everything. If he’s sick or hurt and you don’t check even though I asked you to it could open the hotel to enormous liability.”

Her words had their intended effect. The man grabbed a key and headed up the stairs. Reggie started to follow.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“I have training in medicine. If he’s hurt I can help.”

They hurried up the stairs. The clerk knocked, then called out, and then knocked again.

“Unlock the door!” Reggie urged.

“This is very much against hotel policy.”

“Oh for God’s sake.” She grabbed the key, shoved him out of the way, and unlocked the door. She stepped inside with the clerk right behind. It only took her a minute to see that the room was empty, yet all of Shaw’s things were still there.

“The bed hasn’t been slept in,” she said, as she looked accusingly at the clerk.

“It is not my responsibility to determine that all guests are in and accounted for,” he added with indignation.

Reggie thought quickly. The man had come on at midnight and Bill had left her home around eleven. It was a five-minute walk-up. What if he had never made it? But she’d made certain Waller’s man heard that he was leaving town. He would have no reason to—

“Excuse me?” said the clerk.

Jolted from these thoughts, Reggie saw that he had his hand out for the key. She gave it to him.

“You should report this to the police,” she advised.

“I do not think so. He might not have come back to the hotel last night because he had something better to do.” He gave her a knowing look. “This is Provence after all.”

“Can I search his room, then, for a clue to where he might have gone?”

“If you attempt that, rest assured that I will call the police.”

Exasperated, Reggie pushed past him and raced back down the stairs.

She left the building and was hurrying back to her villa when she heard the screech of tires behind her. She turned and saw the car stop in front of the hotel. She flitted into the shadows and watched as three men, one wearing an old-fashioned hat, jumped out of the vehicle and raced into the hotel. She didn’t venture closer because she could see that the driver was still in the car.

A few minutes later the men came out again, only now one of them was carrying something. Reggie instantly recognized it as the suitcase that was in Bill Young’s room. As the car flew past where she was hiding she saw the man wearing the hat through the car’s passenger window. He was on the phone, talking fast, and he didn’t look happy at all.

Reggie hurried back to the hotel. The clerk sat mutely behind his desk.

“I saw the men come,” Reggie began.

“This is the worst morning of my life,” moaned the older man.