The Carnival Master

7.

The Hotel Linden was only a few minutes from where Cologne’s Hansaring joined the Konrad-Adenauer Ufer which ran along the Rhine’s edge. It somehow gave Fabel hope to sense something of the old Maria in her choice: the Linden’s situation gave her as central a base as possible without being conspicuous. He told the taxi driver to wait for him and trotted up the steps into the hotel’s small lobby. A pretty dark-haired girl smiled at him from behind the reception desk. Her smile gave way to a frown when he showed her his Polizei Hamburg ID card.

‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ he reassured her. ‘I’m just trying to trace someone.’

Fabel showed the receptionist a photograph of Maria. ‘Ring any bells?’

Her frown deepened. ‘I can’t say that it does… but I’ve been off the last week. Let me get the duty manager.’

She disappeared into the office and returned with a man who was too young to wear such a serious expression. There was a hint of suspicion in the way he eyed Fabel.

‘What’s this all about, Herr…?’

‘Principal Chief Commissar Fabel.’ Fabel smiled and held out his ID again. ‘I’m down from Hamburg looking for this woman…’ He paused while the pretty receptionist handed the photograph to the manager. ‘Her name is Maria Klee. Our information suggests that she stayed in this hotel. But she might have used another name.’

‘What has she done?’

‘I don’t see that has anything to do with your answer to my question.’ Fabel leaned forward on the reception desk. ‘Have you seen her or not?’

The duty manager examined the photograph. ‘Yes, I have. But she doesn’t look like that now.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She checked out of here a couple of weeks ago.’ He typed something into the reception computer. ‘Yes, here it is, the twenty-sixth. But when she checked out her hair was cut really short and dyed black. The other thing was her clothes.’

‘What about them?’

‘They were always different. I don’t mean just a change of outfit

… I mean completely different styles of clothes. One day really expensive, the next scruffy and cheap.’

Surveillance, thought Fabel. She had a lead and was following it. ‘Anything else? Did she ever meet with anyone here?’

‘Not that I’m aware of. But she did park her car in the hotel car park without registering its licence number with us. We nearly had it towed away, but one of the porters recognised her as a guest. I was going to have a word with her about it but she checked out before I had a chance.’

‘Did you get the number?’

‘Of course…’ The prematurely pompous duty manager again referred to the hotel computer. He scribbled something down on a pad and handed it to Fabel.

‘But this is a “K” plate… a Cologne licence.’ Fabel looked at the number again. ‘What kind of car was it?’

‘Cheap and old. I think it was a Citroen.’

‘Would you have any idea where she was going from here?’

The duty manager shrugged. Fabel scribbled his cellphone number on the back of a Polizei Hamburg business card.

‘If you see her again, I need you to phone me on this number. Immediately. It is very important.’

Back in the taxi Fabel examined his list of Cologne hotels. He had to try to think like Maria. He guessed that she had left this hotel because she had checked in under her own name. She would seek out somewhere even less conspicuous. He leaned over and handed the list to the taxi driver.

‘Which of these would be the best if you wanted to book in somewhere under a fake name and pay cash without too many questions asked?’

The taxi driver pursed his lips in consideration for a moment, then took his pen and circled three names.

‘These would be your best bet, I reckon.’

‘Okay…’ Fabel leaned back in his seat. ‘Let’s start with the nearest.’