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flashed a grin at Victoria and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, guiding her back to the table. ‘Now, sweetheart, how about you tell us what number is going to win?’
    As Victoria debated where to set her wager, Masters leaned forwards to lay a chip on black number 6. In that instant, his trouser pocket gaped open and I caught sight of his wallet. I felt my hand twitch, and before very long, I’d reached out and made magic with his billfold.
    So all right, I lied about having a good reason for ripping the guy off. But then, what did you expect? I told you I was a thief.

FIVE
    All of which brings us back to that pesky bathroom door.
    You’ll recall that I’d coaxed the handle down and nudged the thing open, being careful to do so as soundlessly as possible. You’ll also remember how unnecessary it had been for me to check on the bathroom in the first place. I’d given the matter a good deal of thought and I’d concluded, not unreasonably, that it would be ludicrous to think there could be anyone inside.
    In support of my logic, the door hadn’t been locked. Now, if there really had been someone in there, and if they were hiding from me, they would have bolted the door. But I’d eased down the handle and it had opened without any resistance. So all things being equal, I was as certain as I could be that the bathroom would be empty.
    But of course it wasn’t.
    It was very large, in keeping with the rest of the suite, and it was stylish and expensive-looking. The floors and the walls were done out in grey marble tiles and there were two circular sinks, with gold-plated taps, set into a slab of black granite that was adorned with fluffy white towels and monogrammed toiletries. There was a toilet, a walk-in shower cubicle large enough to accommodate an NFL team, a flat-screen television, and a bath (or a tub as our American friends like to call it) that was perhaps a little smaller than your average swimming pool. The bath was square-shaped and very deep and it was dotted with plastic Jacuzzi nozzles. It was also filled close to the brim with water. Oh, and there was a naked woman inside it.
    Now, as this isn’t a piece of erotica, allow me to add that while she was slim and petite and nubile, she was also face down in the water and she wasn’t moving in the slightest. Her arms and her legs were floating out from her torso, just below the waterline, and her head was fully submerged. Her flame-red hair was congealed on the surface in sodden knots and tangles, like some extraordinary plant from the South China Sea. The bathwater was as still as her body, and she looked as though she might have been floating there for many hours or even days.
    Just then, I caught my reflection in the mirror behind the double sinks. I looked fairly shocked, which wasn’t altogether surprising, but I also looked kind of shifty, poking my head through the gap in the door like that. Even so, in the seconds that followed, I was really quite stunned to see my reflection moving through the door and approaching the bath.
    One thing I absolutely wasn’t going to do was to check for a pulse. I’d touched a dead woman before, not so very long ago, and I’m not ashamed to admit that it was one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life. The sensation of her cold, lifeless skin was still very real to me, and I didn’t doubt that it would linger for a long time to come.
    By way of compromise, I removed my left glove and slid my index finger into the water at the end of the bath, as far from her toes as I could get. The water was cold. If she’d drowned while taking a bath, the temperature suggested that it had been quite some time ago and there wasn’t a hope of saving her. And if she’d been killed by someone else, well, then they would have made sure that she was dead in the first place. And to be blunt, I wasn’t all that keen to take my involvement any further. What could I do, after all? Telephone hotel security and explain that