Page 61 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“I hope so, but I doubt it.”
“Keep a record of every incident. Note down the date, time, when, where, and what occurred or what was received.”
“I have been.”
“Good.”
“I don’t want to keep this stuff he’s sent.”
“It’s evidence of what he’s been doing.”
“But the used condoms?” Jonty whispered. “Do I have to keep those?”
“Take a photograph. I will too and I’ll include it in my report.”
“You don’t need to do a DNA test?”
“He didn’t deny they were his. He said it was a joke, so no point.”
“You better come in.”
The moment the policeman had gone, Jonty threw the condoms in the bin and had a long, hot shower.
DEVAN DIDN’T GO STRAIGHT BACKafter he’d left Jonty. He decided he might as well check out the other hotel Alan had told him about. Rawlings Resort. He tapped the postcode into his sat nav. The place was twenty miles further south and inland, with its own golf course.
The building was much newer than McAllister’s, the decor more modern and the place was busy. He arranged to inspect one of the rooms and this time, he was escorted by a smartly dressed guy in his fifties. Devan had made up a story about looking for a place to hold a wedding and the man couldn’t have been more helpful, offering him a tour of the facilities. Big swimming pool, children’s soft play area and a spa for the adults.
After the tour, Devan had a coffee in the lounge and made notes. Unlike McAllister’s, this site was outside Northumberland’s AONB, an area of outstanding natural beauty, which would mean renovations, extensions or a new build would be a much simpler process. Though this hotel didn’t need rebuilding. There were no views of the sea, just distant ones of rolling hills on one side, the golf course on the other. Though the sea wasn’t far away and Newcastle was within easy reach.
Even so, the place didn’t excite him. If people came for a golfing holiday close to the sea, wouldn’t they want to play at a links course? Devan weighted up the pros and cons. The bottom line was return on investment. Which site would be more profitable? Or should he recommend neither?
Back at McAllister’s, he worked on his laptop doing an analysis of each hotel, what was needed, what was already offered, how being part of the Shaw group would play out. By the time he went down to the restaurant, he preferred McAllister’s, but it would come down to availability and cost.
Jonty had been right about the chef being good. Devan had chosen a Moroccan dish and it looked as good as it tasted. If McAllister’s ended up as the choice, whether it was a rebuild or renovation, they’d lose the chef. Well, they’d lose all the staff, but maybe Devan could get the chef transferred temporarily to one of their other hotels so they could keep him. But that offer wouldn’t extend to anyone else. Including Jonty.He couldn’t show favouritism. Night managers weren’t hard to find. No staff member who worked there was essential to the future success of the hotel, not even the chef. There was a lot to think about, but he couldn’t walk away from a place because he didn’t want to make one particular member of staff redundant.
One thing he could do was get his private investigator pal to find Jonty’s father in the hope of it leading to his mother. Stan had the room next door to Devan while he’d been at university. He hadn’t given Stan much to go on. Maybe Devan would change his mind about telling Jonty if Standidfind something. It might be some compensation for fucking up his job situation.
God, I don’t want to do that.He had to think of a way to not let that happen.
Chapter Ten
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, DEVAN WASdrinking coffee in the lounge when he was approached by a short guy in a suit. The man had silver hair, a bit of a pot belly and a neat silver beard, and looked like a sophisticated Father Christmas.
“Mr Smith, I’m Hamish McAllister.” He had a strong Scottish accent.
Devan shook his hand. “Thanks for meeting me.”
“Would you like to come to my office?”
Once Devan was inside, McAllister closed the door. “Take a seat. How can I help you?”
Devan slid his business card across the desk before he sat down. “This is the organisation I represent.”
McAllister picked up the card. “The Shaw Hotel Group.” He chuckled. “Come to get a few tips on how to run a hotel?”
Devan smiled. “I’m sure there’s plenty you could teach me.”
“Have you ever operated a hotel yourself?”
