He thought about getting another drink from the minibar and stood up. The few supplies that clearly had been forgotten in the small fridge would not last for long. There were two juices left, past their best-before date, a diet cola and then spirits.

Tiago left the minibar door open and brought his small travel case into its light. An old-fashioned box with a brown snakeskin design that he’d inherited from his father. It dated from a time when suitcases with extendable handles and wheels were derided as women’s gear.

Real men carry their load, was his father’s view. A view that he’d passed on to him together with the suitcase. Tiago opened it. The side compartment was full of drinks. Before switching cabins he took the wise precaution of emptying the minibar in the old one. To avoid anyone noticing his disappearance and possibly reporting him missing he’d have to return to it occasionally – at least once a day – to rumple the bedclothes, chuck a few towels in the shower and leave the usual tip on the pillow.

But the question was: when?

Now, in the middle of the night, when the corridors were empty? Or perhaps in a few hours, around nine, during peak breakfast time, when he’d be protected by the bustle and when someone could come to his assistance in case of an attack?

At a loss, he stared at a can of tonic water as if this might be able to make the decision for him. Then his gaze fell on the envelope which he’d taken by mistake from Lisa Stiller’s cabin. It was lying on top of his clothes.

Tiago picked it up.

Until now he’d held himself back. He might be a thief, but he wasn’t a voyeur. He didn’t stick his nose into other people’s private business for fun, and as the envelope didn’t have any money in it (a quick glance had established that) he wasn’t interested in the contents of the letter.

On the other hand…

Might it be an important document? The envelope, after all, looked classy and highly official. What if Lisa needed the letter? If it was a doctor’s certificate, for example, detailing the dosage of essential medicines?

Tiago couldn’t help smiling at himself. It was more likely that the envelope contained a lottery ticket with a guaranteed win in the next draw. He searched for an excuse to satisfy his curiosity, which reminded him of one of his father’s sayings: When a woman strokes a head, sometimes she just wants to know its secrets.

Tiago stroked the seal of the envelope, unable to resist any longer.

He pulled out the two-page letter. A whiff of lavender tickled his nostrils as he unfolded the first page.

Probably a letter to her first boyfriend, he thought, amazed by the almost artistic-looking handwriting.