Page 36 of Better off Dead

“That was a secret. Even from me.”

“When was Michael planning to leave?”

“Tomorrow. Which makes it even stranger that Michael’s dropped off the radar now.”

“Where does Dendoncker keep the equipment Michael was using? The raw materials?”

“I have no idea. Why are you so obsessed with this? Dendoncker isn’t holding Michael. That would make no sense.”

“You said Michael has a room here. Do you know the number?”

Sonia nodded to the wall behind me. “It’s next door.”

“We should take a look.”

“There’s no need. I already did.”

“When?”

“A couple of days ago.” Sonia looked at the floor. “I wasn’t snooping. I’m not a bunny boiler. Michael didn’t call me when he said he would. I was worried.”

“What did you find?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. His bed was made. His toiletries were in the bathroom. His clothes were hanging in the wardrobe. His duffel was there. So was his go-bag. Nothing was missing. Not as far as I could tell.”

“Does Michael have a car?”

“He has two. A personal vehicle. And an old Jeep issued by Dendoncker. They’re both still outside. Both as clean as whistles.”

I said nothing.

“Now do you see why I’m worried? If Michael left under his own steam he must have felt some major heat coming down not to take any of his stuff or his car. In which case why wouldn’t he call me? Let me know he’s OK? Or warn me if I was in danger, too?”

“We should take another look in his room.”

“Why? I told you what’s there.”

“A fresh pair of eyes never hurts. And we’re not going to find Michael by sticking around here talking.”

Chapter26

Sonia sighed and rolled hereyes. She scooped up her purse from the floor and tucked the gun inside. “Fine. Come on.”

She locked the door to her own room with a big solid key. It was on a heavy brass fob that was shaped like a teardrop. She dropped it into her purse, started down the corridor, and took out another key. This one was made of thin shiny metal, and it was on a flimsy plastic fob stamped with the name of a local drugstore. She used it to unlock the next door we came to. She pushed the door all the way open, took one step inside, and stopped in her tracks. She clamped her hand over her mouth, but she didn’t make a sound. I moved up alongside her and stopped still, too. The room was a mirror image of hers. It was an efficient use of space. The bathrooms were half depth, so they fitted neatly next to each other, and kept the plumbing sounds away from the beds. But while Sonia’s room was immaculate, this one looked like a tornado had ripped through it. The bed was on its side. The mattress was torn open in a dozen places and clumps of gray fibrous material were hanging out. The wardrobe was facedown on the floor. Shredded clothes were heaped up next to it. The chair was on its side. Its cushion was ripped. The curtain pole had been wrenched off the wall. The curtains had been sliced and left in ribbons on the floor.

Sonia said, “Who did this? What were they looking for? I don’t understand.”

“Does Renée have a room here?” I asked.

“Yes. At the other end of the corridor. You don’t think…?”

“I don’t know. But we should find out.”

Sonia closed Michael’s door and led the way to room 201. She tried the handle and shook her head.

She said, “It’s locked. Wait here. I’ll go down to reception. Borrow a passkey.”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to involve anyone else. Have you got a knife in your bag? Or tweezers?”

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