Steel snapped his eyes open at the banging on his hotel door. He glanced at the clock and couldn’t believe it was after eight. It had been a bloody long time since he’d slept past seven. In fact, he didn’t think he ever had. No wonder Jack was trying to wake him. He threw back the sheet.
“Hold your horses.” If Jack wanted to be so impatient, then Steel wouldn’t bother to put on his trousers. He wished he had the moment he opened the door, though, as two police officers stood in his doorway. But not Lécuyer or Bellerosé.
“Can I help you?” His croaky voice made him sound like he’d been on the piss all night.
“Bonjour Monsieur Steel. We are required to escort Monsieur Rich and yourself to the poste de police again.”
Steel’s scar began to zing and it took all his might not to reach up and scratch it. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
The shorter of the two men placed his hand on the door-frame. “It would be preferable to discuss such matters in privé.”
“Look, fellas. I’m a police officer, so unless you tell me what’s going on, or have a warrant, I don’t have to go anywhere.”
They looked at each other, silently communicating something between them. Then the taller one of the two spoke. “Get dressed, s’il vous plaît. We shall discuss then.”
Steel shut the door, and while he tugged his pants on he tried to ignore his stinging scar as he attempted to work out what the hell was going on. Had Jack gone out and done something stupid last night? As much as he couldn’t picture it, he bloody hoped not. He re-opened the door.
“So what’s the problem?”
“Où est-il. Euh, do you know where Monsieur Rich is?” He said it as an accusation.
“He has his own room. Over there.” Steel pointed at room number fourteen and they moved ahead of him and banged on the door. He hoped like hell the silly bastard was in there.
Jack opened the door and one look at him was enough for Steel to know he was innocent. He was in a T-shirt and shorts. He kept blinking as if trying to wake up his eyes. And he had a deep crease down his cheek, a sure sign he’d just woken up from an innocent man’s sleep.
Jack did a double take when he saw the policemen. “What’s wrong?”
“They want to ask us some more questions.”
“I thought we’d covered everything last night.” Jack and Steel had spent nearly six hours at the police station detailing everything they knew about Tiffany Delacroix, the Melbourne Cup race of 1992, the bank robbery, the subsequent arrests and finally the missing money. Steel felt a huge weight off his shoulders to have shared the entire Tiffany story with them. That was probably why he’d slept so well.
Jack’s eyes bounced from the police officers to Steel. But other than that he didn’t move. His feet were riveted to the floor. Steel could only just imagine what was going through his brain. “Get dressed, we’ll wait for you here.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the station again.”
Jack began to back away and Steel turned to the cops. “Give me a moment, fellas.” Steel stepped into Jack’s room and shut the door.
“What’d you do after I left you last night?” Steel managed his fiercest scowl.
“Nothing.” Jack’s high-pitched voice matched the fear in his eyes.
Steel smiled. “Exactly. I’m only yankin’ your chain. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Get dressed and meet me outside in one minute.”
“You’re a real arsehole, Steel.”
“I know.” Steel stepped back outside.
“He’ll be out in a minute.” He grinned at the two officers but got no response.
Jack took five minutes to emerge, but when he did step out of his room, he no longer looked nervous. Maybe he realised he had nothing to hide, so there was nothing to fear.
Within fifteen minutes they’d commuted from Hotel Alpina to the police station and were sitting in exactly the same chairs they were in the night before.
“Okay,” Steel said as he reached for a chair. “We’ve come voluntarily. How about you tell us what’s going on?”
“Please be comfortable, I’ll let the détectives know you have arrived.” The Frenchmen backed up and exited the door.
Jack and Steel were alone again. “What’s going on?”
Steel shrugged. “More questions, I guess. We bombarded them with a heap of info last night, they’re probably still trying to add everything up.”
“Do you think they’ve arrested Tiffany”—Jack shook his head—“Gemma?”
“Good chance. I’d say she’s sitting in a room just like us right now.”
“Good.” A smile crawled across Jack’s face.
A couple of minutes later Lécuyer and Bellerosé entered the room with coffees.
“Ahh, you remembered.” Steel reached for one of the steaming mugs. “This is some serious deja vu.”
“I guess it is,” Bellerosé said without a smile. “How about you tell us what happened after we left you at the hotel last night.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Their stony faces assured him they weren’t kidding.
“You dropped us at the hotel at half past midnight. We went to our rooms. Next thing I know, there’s a knock on my door at seven this morning. Come on, Bellerosé. Tell us what’s going on.”
She leant forward on her elbows as if trying to eyeball both Steel and Jack at the same time. “Mrs Delacroix is absente, and you gentlemen were the last people to see her.”