The Missing Guest - An Archer Stanley Mystery

Again apologies the audio doesn't start until about 16 seconds in.

The room stank of last night’s room service and B.O.  I looked around, I could see the source of the smells; there were the remains of a club sandwich and fries on the desk while a smart, but well used, suit jacket hung on the chair. The bedclothes were tussled suggesting someone had slept here last night. Recently polished shoes were neatly placed by the door. I went into the bathroom, there were flecks of debris in the sink suggesting he was a mouthwash user. But the sink was dry and the toothbrush was dry, the towel ever so slightly damp.

‘So he should have checked out by twelve you say?’ I looked at the hotel manager who was lingering in the doorway.

He nodded.

‘And no one saw him this morning?’ This time he shook his head. ‘And he didn’t come for breakfast?’

‘No one remembers seeing him, Mr Archer.’

‘It’s Mr Stanley’ I corrected him. ‘Why did you call me, not the police?’ I said.

‘I did call the police Mr Stanley but they just filed a missing persons report. I want my money and you’re the one to get it for me.’

I nodded slowly, looking around the main room again. There was everything you’d expect from an occupied hotel room, except the occupier.   

‘What time do the morning shift take over Mr …?’   I’d forgotten his name and he wasn’t about to prompt me.

‘7.’ He said tersely.

I looked at my watch, it was 3.30p.m. That tallied with my thought that the dryness in the bathroom suggested he’d checked out about 6.30am, probably when the night porter was just making one last cup of tea.

‘He’s long gone,’ I said to the manager. '9 hours gone. He could be anywhere by now. ‘You’ll pay me more trying to find him, than he owes for the room.’

‘I don’t care, Mr Stanley’ he said, a menace in his voice. ‘You just find him, you understand. No one stiffs my hotel.’  

I nodded. ‘Have you informed the family?’

‘I spoke to the wife this morning.’ The manager said.

‘The wife?’ I said somewhat surprised. There was gay porn on this man’s bill and enough tissues around his bed to suggest he’d enjoyed it.

‘Leave it with me,’ I said. ‘I’ll have your money by the morning.’

Coco’s was the gayest club in town and Stevie G well he was the hardest gay doorman I knew. I showed him the hazy photo I had of my missing man. He shook his head.

‘Try Rocky’s’ he said. ‘That’s where all the new ones go, we’re too hardcore for newbies.’

‘Archer Stanley I knew you’d come over to the dark side sooner or later.’  Rocky Sidoli, the eponymous owner of Rocky’s was smiling his gold-toothed smile at me. ‘Finally a real man for good old Rocky,’ he said.

‘Today’s not your lucky day. This is business not pleasure.’ I said sternly and then more playfully  ‘And even if it was, what makes you think I’d fancy you, I know where you’ve been.’

I showed Rocky the photograph and he nodded towards a sad looking dude in the corner.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ The guy’s eyes lit up but then dampened down as his gaydar told him to hold fire.

‘You Clifford Erickson?’ I asked. He nodded.

‘You know why I’m here?’

He nodded agan.

‘Look guy I don’t care, what you are or who you are or what you decide to do with your life, but I do know there’s a nice pair of shoes at a hotel near here and a hotel owner who wants his money. So what say we go back there, you collect your things and settle your bill and then try to find another way to tell your wife you’re gay?’

He nodded, I felt sorry for this guy, he was obviously living a lie and didn’t know how to escape it, but this wasn’t the way. I knew I was sending him back to purgatory but hey I have to make my money somehow.

You can find previous Archer stories here, here and here