Chapter 12
The Afternoon of Saturday, 19th November, 1988
Harry de Groot
Fired Up
I sat on a hard, metal chair in a large, utilitarian room, with the hotel’s head of security, gawking at the CCTV film from last night. So far, I’d already seen a movie star, or two, roam into the hotel lobby and a banker who would soon be nabbed for insider trading. Then, I noticed a woman dressed in an emerald, silk dress wander through the door, rolling a small overnight bag behind her. She held several expensive looking shopping bags, in her other hand, but she managed to move along at a brisk pace. I leaned forward and peered closer, but the sun hat she was wearing, along with the large sunglasses, made it difficult to judge whether this was woman might be June Roze. I continued looking and decided that, yes, the designer, shopping bags would match, but none of this made sense. Where had June Rozze been for the last few months? And why would she abandon her pets and let them starve to death and then simply reappear to do a bit of shopping and stay in a luxury hotel. Unless she was some type of psychopath?
The hotel manager entered and he stood by the door, watching the film of the possible June Roze, as she opened her handbag and offered her credit card to the desk clerk. He fiddled with his immaculate cuffs.
‘There was an alert on that card’, the manager said soberly, with a faint, British accent. ‘And we could have notified the police last night. However, there was a small fire in the kitchens and everything was in disarray. So I must apologise.’
‘Thank you’, I said, surprised by his honesty.
‘And we will, of course, allow you to take this film away for further examination’, he added.
‘Is there any other film showing this woman, perhaps, going into the bar or restaurant or leaving in the morning’, I inquired.
‘No. We checked. ‘However, we thought that she may have exited from the fire door…….but with all the excitement last night, and the coming and going of the fire brigade, and the crush of staff, exiting the kitchen…not that anyone was in danger from the small fire in the toasting oven…well, I’m afraid that the CCTV camera footage is not very clear.’
‘I should like to examine this footage too’, I added
‘Of course’.
The hotel manager then looked at his watch, and said, ‘some of the staff who worked last night will have arrived for work now, if you would care to interview them.’ I turned toward the security manager, who said he would collect together all the relevant CCTV film for me to take away, whilst I conducted the interviews. I nodded at them both, and followed the manager from the room.
My interviews were informal and did not reveal anything of significance. The front, desk clerk, could barely remember the woman in the hat and sunglasses and kept repeating that she had been trained to ‘be discreet and allow guests their privacy’. The hotel porter looked bleary eyed and stunned and kept shaking his head. I shook my head too and went to ask if I could look over the room where the woman, who may or may not be June Roze, had stayed.
The room had the usual stuffy, hotel smell about it, with the usual attempt of camouflage with a synthetic scent. But nothing was out of place or looked like it had even been touched. We had no record of June Roze’s fingerprints, so pursuing that avenue would reveal nothing, unless she was really someone else, who had a criminal record. She was a foreign national so that was a possibility. I pulled out my fingerprint kit.
The maid, a petite, Filipino woman, then knocked, and said, ‘you wanted to see me sir’.
‘Yes, please come in.’
She stepped into the carpeted room looking uncertain, with a wary smile.
‘So you were responsible for cleaning this room, Cherry? I said, reading her name tag.
‘No, sir, I didn’t have to clean the room as it had not been touched. The bed was not used, or the bathroom. It was clean’.
‘Is that usual, Cherry?’
‘It happens’, Cherry replied mysteriously.
I looked at her quizzically and she continued.
‘Sometimes people book a room as a cover, when they plan to stay in another room, with another person.’
‘Like a lover you mean’.
‘Yes’. She smiled in a sad kind of way that told me that she had seen all kinds of behaviour from people in this job. She did not blush, though; she was past that.
I thanked her and she left.
I would have to wait until Monday for those dress shops in the city to reopen, where June Roze’s credit card had been used. But now, I left the hotel and drove out toward Parramatta to drop the CCTV film off at headquarters. I’d take look at the film tomorrow, but I wasn’t expecting much.
An hour later I was heading home to my lonely flat. I stumbled up the stairs and pulled the keys from my pocket. I felt beat. I just wanted to have a cold beer and fall into bed and sleep for at least 8 hours……..But, there, on the step leading to my studio flat, sat Linda, my troublesome ex-wife. I groaned inwardly as she reared up in front of me with her fists clenched.