‘You didn’t go to the party.’

‘No. But I was invited! I was so happy for Cecily and for Mr MacNeil.’ It was interesting that Cecily seemed to be the only person in the hotel he referred to by their first name. ‘I thought they were a perfect match. And it was lovely to see her so happy. Do you know where she is?’

‘I’m hoping to find out.’

‘I hope nothing’s happened to her. She’s one of the kindest people. Nothing is ever too much trouble. She’s always been very good to me.’

‘Can you tell me what happened on the night Mr Parris was killed?’ I asked.

‘Not really.’ Despite his protestation, Derek had surely rehearsed all this. He drew a breath then plunged in. ‘I was behind my desk – here – at ten o’clock. That was about the time the staff party finished. Everyone sounded as if they’d had a good time. They were all very happy.

‘Mr Parris went up to his room about five minutes after I arrived, so that would have been about five past ten. After that, I saw quite a few of the guests go past; some of them were members of the public and some of them were here for the wedding. But anyway, at midnight I was on my own – which is fine. I like this job because I don’t mind being by myself. Mother makes me a sandwich and I’ve got something to read and sometimes I listen to the radio. Cecily said I should watch films on the computer but I don’t like to do that because I think it’s my job to stay alert.’

‘So did you hear or see anything that night?’

‘I’m just coming to that!’ He took another breath. ‘A little bit after midnight, Bear suddenly cried out.’

‘Bear? The dog?’

‘Cecily’s dog. Most of the time he sleeps in the house but sometimes he spends the night over here on the first floor and that was where he was, in his basket.’ Derek pointed up towards the circular opening, the gallery on the first floor. It was impossible to see the basket from where he was sitting, but any sound would have carried down. ‘They didn’t want him with them because of the wedding and everything else going on,’ he continued, ‘so he’d gone to bed up there.’

‘And he cried out.’

‘I thought someone must have stepped on his tail or something so I went up the stairs. But there was no one there. Bear was lying in his basket, absolutely fine. He must have just had a bad dream. I knelt down and gave him a stroke and it was while I was there that someone went past.’

‘Went past where?’

‘Along the corridor. Going from the new lift towards Moonflower Wing.’

I’ve already described Branlow Hall as being built in the shape of a letter H. When Derek was crouching beside the dog, he would have been about midway along the crossbar with a corridor at each end. Whoever had travelled towards room twelve must have come from the front of the building.

‘Could they have come from outside the hotel?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know.’

‘But the front door. Was it locked?’

Derek shook his head. ‘We never locked the doors. Not in those days. There wasn’t any need.’ He grimaced and added portentously: ‘We do now.’

‘And you didn’t see who it was.’ I almost had no need to ask. The figure, flitting along the corridor, would have been in his line of vision for less than a second.

‘I thought it was Stefan,’ Derek admitted. The next words tumbled out quickly, in anguish. ‘I didn’t want to get anyone into trouble. I only told the police what I saw. He was carrying a toolbox. It was Stefan’s toolbox. I’d seen it lots of times. And he was wearing a knitted hat.’ He put his hands on his head to show me what he meant.

‘You mean … a beanie?’

‘Yes. Stefan often wore a beanie. But the lights were on low and it was so quick. I told the police I couldn’t be sure.’

‘So what did you do next?’ I asked. ‘After you saw the man with the toolbox?’

‘I went to the main corridor to see who it was – but by the time I got there it was too late. He’d gone.’

‘He’d gone into one of the rooms.’

‘He must have.’ Derek looked miserable, as if the whole thing was somehow his fault. ‘The police said he’d gone into room twelve.’

Room twelve was only five or six paces away from the point where the landing met the corridor and it was on the near side of the fire door. If Derek had walked forward straight away, the intruder must have disappeared in a matter of seconds.

‘Did you hear him knock?’

‘No.’

‘Did anyone say anything?’

‘No.’

‘So what did you think?’

‘I didn’t think anything. I mean, I thought maybe Stefan had gone into one of the rooms to mend something – a toilet or something – although that didn’t make any sense because if anyone had needed him they’d have had to call me. But everything was quiet. There wasn’t any noise or anything. So after a bit I just went back to my desk and that was the end of it.’

‘You didn’t hear anything else?’

‘No.’ He shook his head.

‘Derek … ’ How could I put this gently? ‘Frank Parris was attacked with a hammer. He must have cried out. I can’t believe you didn’t hear him.’

‘I didn’t hear anything!’ His voice rose. ‘I was all the way back downstairs and I was listening to music on the radio … ’

‘All right.’ I waited for him to calm down. ‘Who discovered the body?’ I asked.

‘That was Natasha. She was one of the maids. I think she was Russian or something.’ His eyes widened as he remembered what had happened. ‘She found it when she went in to clean the room. They say she screamed and screamed.’

‘But that wasn’t until much later … the next day.’

‘Yes.’ Derek leaned forward and almost whispered, ‘Someone had put a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door of number twelve!’ he told me. ‘They did it on purpose. So no one would know.’

‘So why did Natasha go in, then?’

‘Because someone took it off again.’

‘Who took it off?’

‘I don’t know. They never found out.’

He had nothing more to say. I could see that. He looked exhausted.

‘Thank you, Derek,’ I said.

‘I wish it had never happened. The hotel has never been the same since then. There’s always been an atmosphere … I’ve said it often enough to my mum. It’s as if there’s something evil here. And now Cecily going missing. I knew something was wrong when she made that phone call. She was so upset. It’s all part of the same thing and I don’t think it’s ever going to end.’

‘Do you have any idea who killed Frank Parris?’

He was surprised by my question, as if nobody had ever asked him what he thought. ‘It wasn’t Stefan,’ he said. ‘Even if it was Stefan I saw going along the corridor, I’m sure it wasn’t him. He seemed such a nice sort of guy. He was very quiet. I know Miss Treherne – Lisa, I mean – didn’t like him very much and she said he was dishonest, but he seemed all right to me. Do you think they’ll find her?’

‘Cecily Treherne?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sure they will. I’m sure she’ll turn up safe and sound.’

That was what I said, but in my heart I knew I was lying. I hadn’t even been in the hotel for one full day but something there had reached out to me. Maybe it was the sense of evil that Derek had been talking about. But I was quite sure that Cecily was already dead.

FaceTime

Was I getting old?

I was examining myself on the computer screen as I tried to connect with Crete and although it’s true that the camera on a MacBook Air never does anyone any favours, I wasn’t too happy with what I saw. I looked tired. Two years of Cretan sun and cigarette smoke had not done great things for my skin. After I’d left London I’d stopped putting any colour in my hair and I wasn’t sure if the result was delightfully natural or plain drab. I’ve never been very fashion-conscious. Kicking around alone in my flat in Crouch End, I used to go for oversized T-shirts and leggings. Of course I’d dress up for work, but with forced retirement I’d found myself liberated from the three S’s – suits, stockings and stilettos – and in the Greek sunshine I’d dressed in anything that was light and loose-fitting. Andreas had always said that he loved me as I was and that there was no need to impress him, but looking at myself, I wondered if I wasn’t letting myself go – a horrible phrase that brought to mind debauchery and decay.

There was a zing and my image was pushed into the corner where it belonged and in its place Andreas’s face filled the screen. I had been afraid that he would be out or – worse – that he would be in and wouldn’t answer. But there he was, sitting on our terrace. As he leaned back, I could see the shutters behind him and the tubs full of sage and oregano that I had planted myself. His computer was on the glass table with the crack in it, the one we had said we must replace but never would.

‘Yassou, agapiti mou!’ he said. It was a joke between us that every morning, from the first day I had arrived at the hotel, he would greet me in Greek, but I wondered now if he wasn’t taunting me, reminding me that I was so far away from him.

‘How are you?’ I asked.

‘I’m missing you.’