This couldn't be as bad as it sounded. Marcy hurried up in the service elevator with one of the constables, heading up to the honeymoon suite. The maid was in the laundry room, trying to calm down. The last thing the hotel needed was for any of the other guests to get wind of this.
The double doors to the suite were wide open. There were several policemen standing in the hall, just in case any guests or unauthorized personnel came down this way. They allowed Marcy and the officer to pass into the room. The stench of blood hit her nose immediately as she stepped in.
"Oh my God," she uttered, stepping in, covering her nose. The splatter on the walls glistened in the midmorning sun streaming through the windows. There were several clicks and flashes in the room as the crime scene investigators processed the murder scene.
"Excuse me, are you the hotel manager?" A man in his late forties asked, coming from across the room.
"Yes," She replied, hurrying forward to accept his hand. "I'm Marcy Lemon, manager of the Grislow Hotel."
"My name is Inspector Leonard Bradbury, I'm with Scotland Yard." He explained. "I apologize for the disturbance. What can you tell me about the victims? The room is registered to… Mr. and Mrs. Robert McClaren?"
"According to the registry. They were traveling from Scotland. I would assume they were newlyweds, as most couples are when they stay in this room." Her eyes lingered over to the bed behind Inspector Bradbury; the cream colored sheets with the hotel's monogram were messed and tangled, stained in a sea of blood. Marcy had to look away at the sight of the long brunette hair hanging over the side. The bodies hadn't been moved yet.
"I know this is difficult, ma'am," Bradbury said, "But I need your account on how the bodies were discovered."
"Uh…" Marcy seemed unable to speak, trying not to think of the poor woman lying in there. "…I was in my office. I was looking over the inventory forms for the new year. My assistant came in and told me one of the maids was upset. Linda. She's always been a bit flighty, I've been contemplating sacking her to be honest. I went to speak with her… she was very distraught, could barely get a word out. All we could truly understand was that she was coming up to clean the room. I sent Andrew, my assistant, up to see. I couldn't think of what possibly could have frightened her so…"
Bradbury questioned, "When were they set to check out?"
"That's what's odd, sir. When I checked the registry, it said the couple weren't set to check out until today, but had instead left yesterday afternoon." Marcy explained.
"And no one was supposed to come into the room between check out and the next day when the maid service came into clean?" He needed to be sure.
"No," she assured. "Only the maid and maintenance staffs have a master key to every room. That would mean the killer has to work here, doesn't it, sir?"
"Not necessarily, ma'am." He corrected. "For instance, if memory serves, this and the other suites are unlocked with traditional skeleton keys, correct?"
Marcy nodded. "Yes, sir. The owners believed it kept the charm of the original hotel."
"Well, with old world charm comes less security. Anyone with a skeleton key could have unlocked the door without a struggle." Bradbury explained.
It wasn't her fault, but Marcy couldn't help but feel guilty. Ignoring that unneeded emotion, Marcy demanded from the man, "How am I supposed to handle this, Inspector? I can't exactly close down the entire hotel until you solve this case."
"That won't be necessary, ma'am. But this room will have to be closed until we clear the scene." He said. "We'll contact you if we have anymore questions."
Marcy nodded as he stepped away. As fast as her high heeled feet would take her, she speedily rushed to her assistant, grabbing him by the arm.
"I need you to look at the reservations for the suite." She hissed in his ear. "Anything booked for less than a week from now, have it assigned to another room."
"And what do we tell those guests?" He wondered.
"I don't know! We'll decide when the time comes, now go!"
"Yes, ma'am. Straight away, ma'am." Andrew hurried from the room to complete his task. Marcy watched his retreat. Her eyes landed on the blood splatter on the wall before her, wondering what kind of person was capable of such an act.
There was still another two hours to go. The plane was dark, most of the passengers were sleeping. A few lights were on in the cabin. Reid was trying sleep, unable to find a suitable position. A six hour flight was a long time to sit in one seat. He was starting to feel antsy and cramped, needing desperately to stretch his legs.
"Hey, Squirmy," Riley whispered, looking over from the book she was reading, In God We Trust: All Others PayCash by Jean Shepard. "You need to sit still."
"I'm sorry, I can't get comfortable." He moaned, trying desperately to take advantage of the little leg room he had.
"How can you be uncomfortable, it's First Class?" Riley asked.
Reid grumbled, "Because I'm used to lying down when I sleep on a plane."
Riley rolled her eyes. "The FBI has spoiled you."
"I know…" He complained, still trying to find a better position, his legs eventually flying up to kick the back of the chair in front of him. The passenger turned around, an elderly business man. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the young genius. Reid raised his hand apologetically, "Again, I'm sorry."
He continued to frown until finally he turned back. Slightly embarrassed, Reid turned to look at the woman pretending to be interested in her stories, trying to stifle her giggles.
"It's not funny." He hissed.
"It's a little funny," She flashed him a smile. "I know you're feeling cramped and restless, but just… try to relax, we'll be there soon."
She reached over and took his hand, at last turning back to her book. Reid stared at her for a moment. He admired how she immersed herself into the pages, losing herself in the stories. He loved the way she fell in love with books like this.
At the sight of her moistening her lips, he suddenly had to touch her. His hand seemed to move on its own accord, reaching to wrap his arm around her, pulling her as close as possible.
"What are you doing?" She asked, unable to stop the pleased smirk that appeared.
"Just… trying to relax." He said, pressing his lips just below her ear. "This is much more comfortable."
"I'm trying to read." She whispered with a sneer, not giving into him.
"No one's stopping you," He muttered, nibbling on her neck.
The constant kissing on her skin was too distracting. With a conceding sigh, she abandoned the book. Riley adjusted herself, the better to see his face, and held him as close as the seat divider would allow. Her hand brushed away the long tendrils hanging on his face. "I still can't believe I get you all to myself for two whole weeks."
"Me neither," Reid sighed, closing his eyes and enjoyed her fingers stroking his hair. "This is the first real vacation I've ever had."
"Well, it's long overdue." She replied, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.
"Mmm," Was his agreement. "And it's just us. No FBI, no, agenda, no murders… nothing horrible for two weeks. Or a fortnight as our host country says."
The long silence was worrisome. At last, he opened his eyes, noticing the fear on Riley's face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," She replied, her smile obviously fake.
He pulled away from her, sitting up. "Something's wrong." He decided, concerned. "Tell me, what's bothering you?"
"It's… nothing. Don't worry about it." she hissed, wishing there was another grumpy face annoyed by their conversation. Everything had gone smoothly so far, voicing her inhibitions would just curse the rest of the trip.
"If it's upsetting you, it is something." Reid pushed. "Come on, I'm your husband now. I'm supposed to fix your problems and make you feel better."
"You were doing that long before you were even my boyfriend." She noted. "Well… it's just… I don't know, I guess because things have been going so well lately… that never happens for us. I'm just waiting… for something to ruin it again."
"That's not going to happen." Reid assured her, and she could tell he believed it. "All that awful stuff is behind us. This is the happily ever after part. Everything's going to be fine from now on."
"You know… you're kind of annoying when you're optimistic." She teased, grinning.
Reid wasn't fooled, moving close to her again, "Well, somebody has to be the positive one in this marriage."
With a chuckle, she pulled his face to hers and planted a heavy kiss on him. He was right. Riley was nervous for nothing. There was nothing to be scared about in London. Everything would be fine. If she just kept reminding herself that, her fear would go away.
It was 8 am when the made it to the Grislow Hotel, but in their time, it was 2. After a night of no sleep and the added jet lag, Reid and Riley were exhausted as they entered the lobby. It was mostly empty. The old man sitting in the seat Reid spent most of the flight kicking was sitting reading the newspaper, as luck would have it. A few maids were gossiping in whispers in an alcove. They headed to the front desk to check in.
It was unmanned and Reid rang the bell. His arm went around Riley, who leaned on him in her fatigue. A second ring and a young girl rushed over, looking a bit frazzled. "Sorry about that," she said with a fake smile. "Checking in?"
"Yes," Reid replied, reaching into his pocket. The only ID he carried with him anymore was his badge. He handed it over, observing how it was the first time a civilian looked at it without a nervous shadow crossing her face. "Reid for the honeymoon suite. R-E-I-D."
The ID met to her liking and she handed it back without comment. Her fingers moved over the keyboard, bringing up the registration on the screen. "Oh…" she muttered. "Are you sure that's your reservation, sir?"
"Yes, I'm sure," Reid said, and Riley opened her eyes and stood up. "You mean it's not there?"
"Are you positive you didn't book for one of the regular suites?" She asked.
"No, I made that reservation three months ago." Riley said bitterly. "I had it confirmed."
"When did you confirm it?" Reid asked.
"Well, someone confirmed it for me last week." She said, and by the expression, Reid understood. She had Garcia work some magic and made sure all the orders had gone through.
"I am sorry, ma'am, but it's not here." The young girl urged. "There's no one registered for that room for two weeks."
"That's because we have it for two weeks!" Riley snapped. Her exhaustion and lack of caffeine made her cranky and this little mishap didn't help.
Reid stepped in before Riley could unleash real anger on the poor young girl. They had barely been in England an hour, they didn't need to labeled the Ugly Americans already. "Look, I'm sure there is an explanation for this. I know this isn't your fault, but we'd really like to speak to your manager, please."
She looked ready to refuse, as if it were the normal response when such demand came from a guest. But she seemed to respond to Reid's politeness in the matter. Dealing with distraught and hopeless victims and families developed a great skill of appealing to people. Not wanting to tell him off, she replied, "I'll go get him."
"The day manager of the Grislow Hotel is named Marcy Lemon. That is a woman, isn't it?" Reid asked, knowing this girl was about to give them the runaround.
Through gritted teeth, "I'll get her, then." and hurried away, leaving them alone once again.
"I knew it," Riley whispered to herself. The lobby was too quiet for him not to overhear.
Reid was calm, as it usually was between the two of them. Reid slipped his arm around her lower back and pulled her closer. "Hey, if this is the worst thing that happens the entire trip, I think we can live with that. It we don't have the suite, it's not going to change anything. We could sleep in the laundry room for all I care, as long as we're together."
"How did a man with 187 IQ become such a hopeless romantic?" Riley asked. Her eyes were tired, but she was smiling just the same.
"He met the right girl." He replied, kissing her cheek.
A short woman, almost as young as the desk clerk, stepped over. Head to two in a business suit and heels, sending off vibes of both determination and contempt at anyone crossing her path. "I'm Marcy Lemon, I'm the manager of the hotel. I understand you've been asking for me."
Quickly, Reid explained the situation to the girl. He recited all the information on their reservation, including the time of day Riley made it and the entire confirmation number without batting an eye. By the time he'd finished, the manager stared at him in surprise.
"Well…" she replied. "You certainly stated your case, Mr. Reid, but it's not necessary. I am so sorry, but we had to delete your reservation on that room. We've moved it to another suite, but we're only charging you a single room rate for your entire stay. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it can't be avoided."
"Why did you have to change it?" Riley asked.
She hesitated a moment, fixing Riley with a nervous stare. Reid recognized that look, seeing that on suspects during questioning when they were trying to hide something. "There was a robbery last night. The couple lost some… valuable things. Uh, Patricia will finish checking you in, and I will send for a bellhop." She gave them a condescending smile, a bit disturbed by their inquiry. "Enjoy your stay with us, Mr. and Mrs. Reid."
And with that she trotted away. "I think Strauss would like her," Riley whispered in Reid's ear as they turned back to the desk. He responded with a snort.
The bellhop brought them up to their room, carrying their bags. They didn't bring much luggage with them. Reid had learned how to pack a considerable amount of items in a small space. His arm was still around her as they followed the young man, but Riley noticed how distracted he was the entire way up.
Once at the suite, the bellhop unlocked the door and brought their bags inside. "Stay here," Reid ordered, leaving Riley in the hall. She obeyed, wondering why he didn't want her to follow inside yet. After a moment, the young man left with his tip and Reid came back out. Before she could say a word, he pulled her to him, lifting her to carry her over the threshold.
"Hey," she giggled, her arms over his shoulders. "Didn't we do this on the wedding night already?"
"Yes, and I intend to do it again when we get home." He replied, slipping a swift kiss on her lips. "Come on, we only get to be newlyweds once. Something I never planned on experiencing in my life."
"Me neither," She agreed, resting her brow on his as they walked across the suite. For a man so skinny, he had a surprising amount of strength and stamina, carrying her with no problem. "You know… I was nervous about having a real wedding… and you know my fear about London… I don't know why, probably because I'm paranoid about everything now… but I want you to know, Spencer… not once did I have doubts about marrying you or spending my life with you. Not one."
"That's good to know." He said casually, placing a kiss on her jaw line, not expressing just how much those words meant to him.
Carefully, he laid her on the bed, moving to kiss her neck. As good as it felt, though, Riley wasn't enjoying it. She felt ready to sink into the bed and sleep for a whole day. "Spencer… stop." she mumbled.
"What's wrong?" he asked, meeting her brown eyes.
She seemed reluctant to say, rethinking perhaps to just give into him, "Sweetheart, I love you, and I want this, but… I'm exhausted. Would you mind if we just went to sleep instead?"
He didn't respond immediately and Riley thought at first she had offended him, "Oh, thank God," he sighed, falling beside her on his back.
She giggled, rolling on her side to look at him. Her joy faded, however, when she saw his eyes, focused on the ceiling. They had that glint, the one she'd seen as he wrote information feverishly on a white board during a case. "What are you thinking about?" She wondered.
"I was just remembering about what Marcy Lemon said…" he admitted. "She said there was a robbery in the honeymoon suite."
"I know. Just think, a day earlier, it could have been us." Riley said, taking his hand.
Reid shook his head. "That's not what bothers me. She hesitated before she answered and then said it was a robbery."
"So?" Riley may have filled in for JJ during her maternity leave, but three months was hardly enough time to develop an advanced skill of profiling.
"So she told us directly it was a robbery. With the hesitation, it's obvious she was lying." He pointed out.
Riley wasn't quite sure she agreed. "You don't know that. This is another country, Spencer. The people are different here."
"But human behavior is the same no matter where you go." Reid corrected, finally meeting her eye. "She had to think quickly on her feet. A manager like that would be experienced enough on how to do that. A safe answer would be a plumbing or electrical problem. But… perhaps if she were rattled from the situation, she had to think of a cover story and robbery came to mind... she said it before she realized."
"I think you're right," Riley admitted. "Knowledge of a robbery would be bad for business."
"The question is… what's so horrible that happened in that room, they don't mind us thinking it was a robbery." Reid finished.
They needed a change of subject. "You need to relax. I shudder to think what happened in there, and I feel for that couple, whoever they were, but… you're not investigating the case. You're not supposed to work, you're supposed to have fun and enjoy yourself." She leaned over to kiss his cheek.
Reid smiled. "You're right, I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," She snuggled closed to him, her hand running along his abdomen. "It's a habit, one that makes you good at your job. You just need to take it easy. Get some sleep now, and I promise, in a day or two, I will have you totally relaxed."
"I like the sound of that." He growled as he wrapped his arms around her.
The thought of getting changed and under the covers didn't even cross their minds before they were both fast asleep.
