Authors: Garrett Addison
Devlin also watched the evolution of David. Vision of the
bunker and David with unfamiliar faces, presumably other past employees,
gradually progressed, presumably chronologically, to include Lori, then Ikel,
and finally Devlin himself featured. It was also easy to see David’s
confidence decrease and stress increase as time, and the video, continued.
Smiles became fewer, and increasingly erratic outbursts featured more and more
prominently. David was burning out, slowly but surely.
After several minutes, Devlin and the others naturally
came to wonder about the purpose of the video. Glen didn’t seem the
sentimental type, and this was clearly apparent in the movie and Devlin began
to look for Glen’s intent or hidden agenda. It was reasonable that security
was relevant to the movie, based on his preamble and his incessant
pre-occupation with the subject. Gradually, Lori and Ikel both started looking
at each other and to Devlin, which served to confirm that Devlin was not the
only one struggling to understand why Glen considered it so important that they
all watch.
Suddenly, it all became apparent when an unknown face
appeared on the video, re-focussing everyone’s attention. It was a woman, tall
and leggy, and suggestively dressed. The video, clear as ever, showed David
greet the woman at the door, escort her to the kitchen and then proceed to the
lounge. David had broken Glen’s golden rule, inviting a stranger into the
building.
“Fuck!” Ikel said what everyone was thinking. “No wonder
he left!”
“No. Glen would have sacked him on the spot for this,”
Lori added, not prepared to miss a second of the video.
Of course the point was moot. Whether David left of his
own accord when confronted with the video, or Glen summarily terminated his
employment was irrelevant. There was no way he could remain part of LastGasp’,
that much at least Devlin now understood.
The next question raised in watching the video was the
identity and the purpose of the woman, and why David would breach security so
blatantly. It didn’t take long for this question to be answered. Soon the
small-talk between David and the woman progressed to what was clearly foreplay,
but only after cash was exchanged. Only the ceiling based or similarly high mounted
camera position and the lack of a musical soundtrack separated the vision of
David from amateur pornography. Ikel laughed inappropriately, but unavoidably,
testament to his youth and immaturity. Lori and Devlin were silent.
Then the scene in the video changed. Clearly another
night, clearly another woman, clearly the same David. And another. And
another. Commitment to LastGasp’ was not the only reason why David was so
routinely on the night-shift.
Glen timed his return perfectly. No sooner had the video
stopped, that he appeared on one of the CCTV screens, waiting outside the
building, buzzing to be allowed in. “No-one is allowed in here except us, or
people explicitly sanctioned by me,” he re-iterated as soon as he reached the
sitting room. “I want you all to go, now, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter - 32.
The walk back to the hotel was quiet. There was no light
hearted conversation or venting of pent-up frustration or even disappointment
at David. They just walked, fixated on the journey. When they reached the
hotel, Lori broke the silence only to suggest that tonight she’d opt for room
service, forgoing the nightly dinner and drinks ritual. The suggestion was
accepted by Devlin as a great idea, but Ikel protested that he’d adhere to his
routine regardless of whether or not he had company.
Just as Lori turned her back for the stairs, Devlin
remembered the note that David asked him to deliver. He hadn’t forgotten his
errand, at least initially, and not surprisingly it had felt inappropriate to
raise the matter after watching David’s first foray into video pornography.
“Wait!” he called after her. “David asked me to give you this.”
On receipt of the message, Lori read it and thought for a
moment. “Did you read this?” she asked, holding up the note.
“No. Why?”
“When did he give it to you? What state was he in?”
“He was getting pissed. I wanted to talk to him, but by
the time I got to his room he was already draining his bar. He cut short our
chat and told me to deliver the note.”
Lori checked her watch and did a little mental
arithmetic. “So, what, you last saw him about an hour or so ago?”
“Thereabouts. Maybe a little more. What’s the problem?”
“Fuck!” Lori exclaimed. “We need to get to him now!” She
removed her low heeled court shoes and started to run for the lifts. Devlin
followed, inspired by the urgency that warranted her use of an expletive.
The speed of the lifts had not been an issue before, but
now Lori was impatiently shouting in the vain hope that it might make them go
faster. “Come on!” She watched the above door display indicating the current
floor as it progressed slowly to their floor.
Devlin remained distant from Lori’s urgency for a while,
but the entry of other hotel guests to the lift slowed the lift even more and
threatened to force her over the edge. He considered it high time to find out
what was happening, as much to appease his curiosity as to prevent Lori from
openly abusing the new lift occupants for their role in slowing the lift.
“What was on the note?”
Lori looked at Devlin, suddenly appreciating that he was
oblivious to what was so clear to her. “All the note said was that ‘Derrell
had it right’. Of course, that means nothing to you, but Derrell was a reader
like us. He left before even David joined LastGasp’.” Lori paused to allow
the other lift passengers to alight at their floor. As soon as she and Devlin
were alone again she continued. “I never knew him, but I remember the day he
died. I’d not long joined, and one day Glen was emotional. You’ve known Glen
for a little while now, so you can appreciate how out of character that was.
David and I asked him what the matter was, and he told us.”
“Told you what?”
“That Derrell was dead and that he was a reader, but more
than just any reader, apparently, his words. Glen also told us that Derrell
had committed suicide. And that’s what I’m worried about.” On cue, the lift
doors began to open and Lori forced them open still further and faster,
desperate to resume her race to check on David.
David was not answering his door or his phone and Lori’s
concern was obvious. She rang the hotel manager, Morris, requesting that he
arrange for the room to be unlocked. She was sparing with the details, but
keen to impress him with the urgency.
Morris arrived almost immediately with an aide and tried
to open David’s door with a master-key, but failed on account of the internal
latch. This at least seemed to confirm that David was in his room, but did
little to quell Lori’s concern. Morris resigned himself to the necessity to
break in the door, and nodded his approval to his offsider who braced himself,
and shoulder charged the door.
Chapter - 33.
As a child, Devlin had visited a working whaling station
in the days before public pressure or a change in economics saw it become a whaling
museum cum tourist attraction. He remembered the sights and smells of that
experience vividly. He remembered the smell of the blubber being rendered, and
the resultant stench that seemed to remain with them long after leaving the
site and even persisted after several changes of clothes. He also remembered
the sight of the butchery, and the lifeless masses of the queued whales
awaiting their turn for processing. But most of all, Devlin remembered the
blood. Pooled blood on the ground, blood stained equipment, and rivers of
blood draining away into the adjacent ocean.
As soon as Devlin entered David’s room, his first thoughts
were childhood memories of the whaling station.
Devlin was no expert, but first impressions suggested that
David had committed suicide. Not content to just slash his wrists and sit in a
nice warm bath, David appeared to have also hung himself naked from the ceiling
fan. At the speed he was spinning, it was difficult to identify the exact
source of his bleeding. Perhaps there was more than one source, Devlin
couldn’t rightly tell. The fact that the fan was spinning on a fast cycle
while David bled out had meant that centrifugal force had played a pivotal role
in spreading his fluids widely. A substantial proportion of the flooring,
furniture and much of the walls were splattered liberally. Morris would need
to fund substantially more than just a new door frame.
Devlin didn’t bother entering the room as there was
clearly nothing that could be done. He simply closed the door behind Morris
and his assistant and started to comfort Lori.
Chapter - 34.
As ever, Detective Reymond hadn’t waited to be formally
assigned to the suicide call. In truth, he wasn’t in the mood, but he knew
there was little point in denying the inevitable. Suicides were ‘dead’ jobs as
far as any police were concerned, with no upside. There was no chance of a
happy ending, no positive interaction with people, and nothing that might make
a career. As such, anyone with an interest in professional advancement would
always avoid anything resembling a suicide.
Reymond had long since lost interest in the pursuit of
greatness, and by pure virtue of his age, was beyond his prime and he knew it.
Old or not, he’d found a comfortable niche which had allowed him to remain with
the only job he’d known, short of parenting, long beyond what would be
considered typical. The deal was simple; he’d pick up the slack that detracted
from the work of ‘real’ Police officers, and in return he’d be able to continue
in his role for so long as he was able, legally and physically. This left him
all of the un-glamorous jobs but not the mundane administration which would
continue to be done by a civilian, proving that he was still off the bottom peg
in the office hierarchy. Theoretically this meant a variety of work, but
seasonally, particularly at Christmas, he was almost full time dealing with
suicides. The rest of the time he ‘wasted’ at the hospitals and a miscellany
of other tasks, none of them prestigious, none of them career building, but all
of them necessary from the perspective of the mandate of the Police force in
general.
Reymond was in familiar territory when he paced across the
parquet flooring of the hotel foyer. He’d been there before, though the
details of his past visit were somewhat blurred with those of what amounted to
hundreds of similar cases and surrounds. If this was another suicide, as the
hotel manager who’d called had insisted, then it would not be the first where a
poor soul had decided to take his own life in the relatively modest surrounds
of a mid-range hotel. Nor was it likely to be the last. He met the hotel
manager who escorted him to the incident location.
“Did you make the discovery?” Reymond asked.
“Yes. With my assistant and another two hotel guests.
They are both workmates of the … deceased. Is ‘
deceased’
the right
word?”
“If he is, then
deceased
is fine,” Reymond laboured
a smile. He appreciated that this was invariably not a pleasant experience,
despite its almost banality to him, but it was important to keep the dialog
open. “I’ll need to meet with them later, of course. No real rush.”
“Of course.” The hotel manager opened the door to David
Yeardley’s floor from the stairwell and drew Detective Reymond’s attention to
the only room in the corridor with a uniformed staff member loitering at the
door.
“I cut him down from the fan and checked for a pulse. To
do this I had to turn off the fan at the wall and I used the sharpest knife
that was at hand. It was most likely the same blade that he’d used. Other
than that, I’ve done nothing else except post my assistant at the door to keep
other guests away.”
“Thanks Morris. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“Yes, some time ago,” Morris sighed. “It’s one of the
joys of the hospitality industry. There was another incident here some months
back, but I was at head-office, and so the police would have spoken to the duty
manager.”
“Security?” Reymond nodded and raised his eyebrow towards
the domed security camera mounted unobtrusively on the ceiling as he caught his
breath after the near sprint up the stairs. He fought the thought of being too
old to take stairs when there were invariably perfectly operational lifts
available for use. If he was truly too old to take the stairs, then surely he
was too old to be on the job. “Video?”
“Generally yes, but this floor is for less transient,
longer term guests. So we afford them a little more privacy,” Morris answered
the question in a matter-of-fact fashion. “In any case, the only door to the
room was secured from the inside. You’ll see that I had to get Nigel here to
bust the door in.”
A distant bell alerted them to the arrival of the lift at
the floor. The doors opened and a pair of paramedics exited the lift for the
corridor with their gurney. They both smiled and nodded their recognition of
Reymond, and one grunted the room number.
“You guys took your time,” said Reymond.