Author: Sidney Sheldon
Category: Thriller
Go to read content：https://readnovelfree.com/p/38519_63
Armed with a printout of the picture from Lisa’s computer, Matt had visited every hotel in town, from the scummy Pensione Casa Guillermo to the palatial Hotel San Pietro.
“All reservations are confidential,” said the snooty receptionist at the San Pietro. “We don’t give out information on our guests, past or present.”
“Never seen her,” said the bored desk clerk at the Casa Guillermo.
“Don’t think so. But fifty euros might jog my memory,” said the fat manager of the Britannia Guesthouse, rubbing his hands together hopefully. Matt demurred. It was clear the greasy-vested idiot didn’t recognize Lisa. Besides which, Matt could not imagine Lisa ever checking in to a dive like the Britannia, no matter how broke she was.
Carefully wrapping the last of the bread in a plastic bag and stuffing it into his backpack, Matt headed back into the old town. He had one last contact to see. If that came to nothing, he would leave Positano, perhaps go back to Hong Kong and see what he could dig up there.
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The contact had come from a maid at the San Pietro. Witnessing Matt’s curt dismissal by the reception staff, she’d taken pity on him and followed him out to his car.
“If it’s gossip about the guests you’re looking for, you ought to talk to Michele,” she told him. “Michele saw everything. Heard all the secrets.”
Michele, it transpired, had worked as a barman at Positano’s grandest hotel until late last year when he’d been fired for petty theft. Unemployed since, he had a serious drinking problem and a major grudge against the San Pietro’s management, neither of which made him a very reliable source of information. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and at this point Matt Daley was definitely a beggar, both figuratively and literally.
Michele lived in town in a run-down apartment above a fishmonger. Matt found the place easily. Even without the San Pietro maid’s directions he could probably have smelled his way there. The stench of mackerel and sardines, mingled with sweat and human piss from the alleyway running alongside the building, was bad enough to make him gag.
“Come in. Valeria told me you were coming.”
The man who opened the door was younger than Matt expected, and considerably more attractive. He’d been expecting a middle-aged, drunken slob, but other than a five o’clock shadow of stubble and faintly bloodshot eyes, Michele Danieli seemed to be in good shape.
“I hear you’re looking for someone.”
“Yes.” Inside the apartment, evidence of a life in disarray became more apparent. Take-out boxes littered the floor, along with empty beer bottles and old newspapers. A half-empty bottle of Scotch was plainly visible next to the kitchen sink. How did a fit, handsome kid like this get so down on his luck? Matt found himself feeling sorry for Michele.
He handed him the printout of Lisa’s photograph. The barman’s reaction was instantaneous.
“Yes, I know them. They stayed for five days or so.”
“When?” Matt asked breathlessly.
“Late summer, two years ago.”
The summer before she married Miles Baring.
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely,” said Michele. He pulled a cigarette out of a pack on the coffee table and lit it, blowing smoke in Matt’s face. “I never forget a lover.”
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Matt inhaled sharply. He felt like he’d been hit over the head with a baseball bat.
“A lover? You slept together?”
Michele nodded. “Just once.”
Clearly, there was much about Lisa’s past that Matt didn’t know. He’d accepted that fact long ago. But the idea that she would go on vacation to Italy with one man, then jump into bed with the first good-looking barman who asked her…that hurt. It wasn’t the Lisa he remembered.
“The guy was a total asshole,” Michele continued. “Violent, depraved. I was bruised so bad the next day, I couldn’t go to work.”
It took a few seconds for his words to sink in.
“You mean…the man was your lover?”
Michele laughed. “Of course! I don’t do women, sweetheart. Can’t you tell?” He winked at Matt flirtatiously, but a few seconds later his mood darkened. “I’m sure it was him who complained to the hotel about the missing cuff links. Like I’d want to touch his stinking jewelry after the way he treated me.”
“Just to be clear. You’re saying the man in the picture was gay?”