The man turned to look at him. ‘Yeah, like I said. Is he around?’

‘No,’ said Dan.

‘I booked a room. Russ Bannam?’ He looked at Bea again. ‘Was it you I spoke with, a while back, on the phone?’

Bea remembered. She had taken his name. At first she felt relief, but then she realized he’d called just after Alex died.

‘Beatrice? You’re Beatrice, right?’

‘Look, we’re not really open,’ said Dan.

‘You’re not –?’

‘The hotel isn’t open,’ said Dan. ‘I’m sorry. Alex was in an accident. He died.’

‘He died?’ said the man. ‘He’s dead? What kind of an accident?’

‘In his car.’

He frowned. He nodded, gazing into the middle distance. Then he looked at Bea directly. ‘That’s awful. My God. I am so sorry for your loss.’

‘Thank you.’

‘My God,’ he said again.

‘I shouldn’t have taken your booking. It was just after it happened. I wasn’t thinking.’

‘Sure.’

He looked around the hall, and up the stairs, and ran his hand over his shaved head, back and forth, nodding slowly.

‘Shit,’ he said. ‘Shit. I can’t believe it.’

Neither Dan nor Bea spoke.

‘Huh.’ He rolled his head and stretched his neck. ‘Could I get a drink?’

Neither of them answered. He looked from one to the other.

‘I can get a drink, right? Is that OK?’

There was a pause. It felt impossible to refuse him.

‘Sure,’ said Dan. ‘Come through.’

The man picked up his backpack and followed Dan into the sitting room.

Bea stayed exactly where she was. She found Vincent’s number on her phone, and called it, staring at the shiny blue BMW through the window. The phone went to voicemail.

‘This is Beatrice. A man has come to the hotel. He says he knew Alex. His name is Russ Bannam.’

Walking to the window she read out the number plate on the car, then hung up and went to join them.

29

29

They sat on the terrace at one of the hexagonal tables. Moths gathered around the three lamps on the back wall. Russ sat with his foot hitched up on his knee, his whisky glass resting in his palm.

‘I’m not surprised this place isn’t exactly as advertised. But it’s a nice place, right? Kind of how I pictured it, give or take.’

‘Alex never mentioned you,’ said Dan.

‘He didn’t even mention my name? Russ? No?’

‘No,’ said Dan.

Russ looked at Bea.

‘No,’ she said.

‘Huh,’ he shrugged, and went back to his whisky.

‘How did you know him?’ asked Dan.

‘We met in Paris, a few months back.’

‘How?’

‘Listen, can I get another drink?’

Dan pushed the bottle towards him.

‘Thanks. Join me?’

‘No, thanks. So how did you meet Alex?’

Russ rolled tobacco in Rizla paper, slipping the tight cigarette quickly in and out of his mouth.