Page 32 of Brimstone Bound
I didn’t flinch. ‘That’s his choice.’
The vamp looked me up and down, her confidence growing until a thought occurred to her and she took a step back. ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Are you D’Artagnan?’
I froze. How in hell had she heard that name? ‘How do you know that?’ I demanded.
She paled. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. She lifted her chin. ‘You were asking about Brown. The last time I saw him was Thursday.’
Thursday was a lifetime ago, long before the thought of Supe Squad had occurred to me, but I wasn’t about to ignore her sudden willingness to answer my questions. ‘You’re sure?’
She nodded. ‘He was on Brewer Street. He hangs out there quite a lot.’
My eyes narrowed. ‘Anywhere in particular?’
‘Usually the Pulteney.’
‘That’s a pub?’
‘Yeah.’ The vamp sucked her bottom lip; it made her fangs protrude more than normal. It wasn’t an alluring look. ‘I helped you, right? I answered your questions?’
‘I have one more. How did you know I was called D’Artagnan? Where did you hear that name?’ If she hadn’t seen Tony since Thursday,it certainly hadn’t been from him.
Her eyes flicked nervously from side to side. ‘Everyone knows.’
‘Everyone?’
The vamp stared at me, then her muscles tensed and she sprang away. I blinked. She moved so fast that I didn’t even see where she’d gone. I glowered at the spot where she’d been standing. I had a strong suspicion I knew who’d toldeveryonemy nickname. I also had a strong suspicion that he’d appear out of nowhere again very soon.
***
With no sign of Tallulah on St James’s Street – and not a flicker of a shadow from any other vampires – I wheeled round and headed for the DeVane. It was so close that Tony could conceivably have driven there without getting picked up again by ANPR. If he’d parked there and was now sitting at the bar sipping a champagne cocktail, I’d kill him myself. My fingers tightened around the crossbow. Oh God. I hoped against hope that was exactly what he was doing.
There was something about the façade of the hotel that always made me think of Paris. Not that I’d ever been to Paris, but I’d seen enough of the French capital on television to know that the glitzy DeVane was designed with that intention. I’d never set foot inside it – why would I have? It was the sort of place that’s very existence made someone on my salary feel inadequate.
I didn’t allow that to show on my face; when I approached the steps, I straightened my back and sauntered up them as if I belonged there. It didn’t do me any good. Before I could get within touching distance of the door, I was stopped by the bellman.
Max and his grumpy colleague were well-dressed, but this guy was on another level. I swear I could see my reflection in the gold buttons adorning his long coat. ‘Good evening, ma’am,’ he said, doffing his hat. He didn’t drop his gaze to my crossbow, but I knew he’d clocked it. ‘Are you residing in the hotel?’
Obviously not. I was still dressed in the death garments Laura had given to me, and I definitely didn’t look like I could afford to stay there. I doubted that all the money in my bank account would pay for a cup of tea here.
I flashed him a tight, professional smile. ‘I’m here on police business. I’d like to speak to the hotel manager as soon as possible.’
The bellman didn’t miss a beat and his expression didn’t alter. Man, this guy was good. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘No, but it’s a matter of extreme urgency.’
His training had clearly prepared him for every challenge. The last thing the hotel wanted was an armed woman hanging around the opulent lobby, but neither did they want to antagonise the police. They knew their business – and so did the bellman.
‘Please take the side entrance.’ He gave me brief directions. ‘I’ll ensure that someone meets you there.’ He turned away to greet the next guests in exactly the same manner he’d spoken to me, despite their considerably more expensive clothes and their high-born demeanour. I was impressed.
I murmured my thanks, although I wasn’t sure he heard me, and walked round to the trade entrance. It suited me; now that I was within the relative safety of the hotel, the fewer curious eyes I encountered the better.
I’d just gone inside when a woman wearing a neat suit approached me. Her name tag proclaimed her as one of the assistant managers. I gave her a perfunctory smile and she returned the favour. ‘My name is Wilma Kennard,’ she said. ‘May I see some identification, please?’
I pulled out my trainee’s warrant card and passed it over, aware that this was where things might get dicey. ‘I’m with Supe Squad,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m not yet properly qualified as a detective, but I am a certified member of the Metropolitan police force. My mentor, Detective Constable Brown, has gone missing and his trail leads here. I need to locate him before his disappearance creates a bigger incident.’
Wilma Kennard winced. If there was one thing worse than having a crossbow-bearing police officer wandering through your hotel and scaring your guests, it was having an entire troop of police officers searching your hallways for a missing colleague. Trainee or not, she wanted to deal with me with the least amount of possible fuss; if that meant giving me access, that was what she was prepared to do.
She passed my warrant card back to me. ‘Follow me, Miss Bellamy.’
