Chapter 19: The Receipt

Vane walked down the middle of the hall as if it were his own boardroom.

He stopped below the stage, opened his leather folder, and took out a sheaf of photographs.

"The Pier Hotel keeps good records," he said. "I was very patient with them."

He held up the first picture.

It was a grainy still from a corridor camera, time-stamped three in the morning.

A woman in a white hotel robe stood at a door with wet hair.

The door was open.

The man in it was Dashiell Crane.

My mouth went dry.

Nobody in that hall needed to be told who the woman was.

"Registered under his name," said Vane. "Two rooms, one key returned at five."

He turned the next page.

"And a paid month for the lady, with his compliments."

He turned and held the photographs out to the front row.

"This child is the Alpha of Tidewater's."

He let the word go round the hall.

"He has known for weeks. He has hidden her in his tower, behind his own scrubbers, and he has told this coast nothing."

A sound went through the hall, low and angry.

"Is it true, dear?" Winifred said.

She had come down off the stage.

Her face was perfectly pale, and her hand rested on her cardigan, and I almost admired it.

I could have said no.

I could have said a hundred things.

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