CHAPTER 6: STRANGE FACT.

The edifice of Mr Sinclair's mansion had an exceptional look. The flag of the United States of America mounted itself at the center close to a fountain of water that gave the whole place a sense of life. The gates opened and a limousine in the company of four other cars in the order of two in front and two behind found its way into the premises and parked carelessly. Men putting on black suits came down and formed around the limousine as the man in his late fifties walked out of the car.

" Good morning, Sir." A young man greeted Mr Patrick Hudson. " Welcome to—" he was cut short.

" Is Sinclair inside?" Mr Patrick's voice sounded demanding.

" Yes, Sir. But—" before the rest of the words could make it out, Mr Patrick Hudson had already started heading towards the entrance.

" Sir!" He rushed to him and bowed his head.

" Is your boss in or not?! Don't waste my time. "

" He ordered not to let anyone come in. He won't be receiving anyone."

" Get out of my sight before I make you lose your job." Mr Patrick continued his walk. In the next couple of seconds, he was in the living room. On walking in, his heart sank. Mr Sinclair was standing before a large portrait of his deceased son. In his hand was a bottle of dry gin.

" Sinclair. Oh my… Sinclair, since when did you start … give that to me. " He walked to him and snatched the bottle out of his hands. " Forty-eight percent alcohol. I can't believe this."

Mr Sinclair giggled. " It is a Belgian gin distilled three times with a grain bill and then a fourth time with thirteen botanicals added . Does not seem so bad . Does it?"

" How much of this have you been consuming?"

" Come on, Patrick. If you checked well, you would have noticed that the seal has not even been broken yet. " He giggled.

" Why then were you holding this and staring at the portrait?"

" Come on , friend. " He walked to the sofa and sat down. " That gin in your hand was brought into this home by my son." He paused. " My late son."

" Sinclair, I understand how you feel right now. But this is no time to be weak. I just lost my soon to be son-in-law. But that is not the point." He took his seat on the opposite sofa. " There is something terribly wrong. "

" Who would dare come close to my son let alone kill him?"

" That is exactly why I am here. Did you by any means get into a quarrel with someone recently?"

" Are you really asking me that? "

" If it is not a quarrel, did an external body get to find out about the ongoing project?"

Sinclair chuckled. " The project is some kilometers beneath the Earth. And no one on it has made it to the surface of the Earth ever since he or she went down. I want to believe that you are not thinking someone might have found out. "

" I don't know who might be behind this. But it appears this person has made his intention clear. Our union. Not only was your son murdered. The hands of accusation are pointing at my son."

" Jack? What do you mean?"

" Hmm… Captain Luis was at my place. According to him, Jack was the one who called my daughter, Claire, and invited her and her fiance to my rest house. "

" Wait a minute. " Mr Sinclair slowly stood. " If I get you correctly, your son invited them over to get killed. " He giggled. " I was wondering why of all places it had to be at your rest house. "

" Sinclair," he stood too, " are you by any means trying to say that I have a hand in this?"

" We are talking about my son here, Patrick. Why will your son invite him to his death place?"

" You didn't get the point. The last time Jack met with Claire was four days ago. Jack has no hand in this. Come to think of it, your son was murdered . And my son is being framed. My daughter's happiness has been cut off too. You should know that."

" Whoever this bastard is, I will get to him. And when I do, " he gnashed his teeth, " I will slit his throat."

" Meanwhile, how is the project?"

" Soon enough, the both of us will reign supreme. " He paused as if contemplating their move. Then, he picked his phone and dialed.

" Who are you calling?"

With an icy tone, Mr Sinclair replied. " The butcher. Whoever did this to my son will feel pain."

Opposite the Empire hotel, the two detectives leaned on the car with their hands tightly folded to get some warmth.

"Maybe you should call her again." Robert said.

" Why?" Clark responded indifferently.

" Are you serious? We have been here for about seventeen minutes. She should have been out before now. "

" A manager at a hotel as big as this surely has a lot in her hands."

" If this is how she operates all the time, I might decide to fire her."

" Exercise a little patience. " Clark tried to be cool. " Wait a second. " Robert's words resounded through her. " What did you just say ? You might decide to do what? Fire her?" She bursted into laughter.

Robert realizing how foolish he must have made himself seem, he ran short of words.

" You… you will… fire her.." detective Clark said, looking at his face. She stopped laughing. The look in Robert's eyes seemed to say he meant what he said. " Uhm.. detective Robert, I know nothing about you. I don't even know how we ended up being partners. But as my partner, I will give you solid advice. You see what you just said to me,my dear, do not, I repeat, do not open your mouth anywhere else to say gibberish like that again in your life. You are a detective. So, you understand the law. I don't need to remind you that if the management of this hotel should know of this statement of yours, you might spend the remaining days of your life behind bars. You have been acting up. I just hope you get that into your head."

" Here she comes." Robert said, pretending not to have paid attention to his partner.

" I am totally sorry." Flora Jones said as she walked to them. " The delay was not intentional."

" You do know we were on our way somewhere before you called." Robert said.

" Sorry , detective Robert. " Flora Jones said with a smile. " I actually called because I felt you guys would need something this vital."

" Vital." Clark repeated. " Does this have anything to do with the murder case? Meanwhile, what did you find?"

" Hmm." Flora Jones breathed tiredly. " After you guys left, I tried to wrap my hands around a possible clue. Of course, I had to do it because my hotel is involved. I went through the items served to them by the butler. In summary, I found this." She retrieved a tiny object from her pocket and gave it to Clark.

" A chip?" Robert asked.

" Yes. This is a sort of recorder. I am beginning to think that maybe the person behind the death actually wants the public to know something. "

" Which is?" Clark asked with a rising curiosity.

" That Kelvin Jones is not really the owner of the Empire hotel."

" What are you trying to say?" Robert asked.

" Until now, I never had an idea of the fact that Mr Patrick Hudson and Mr Sinclair are the real owners of the Empire hotel."

" Is this some kind of joke?" Clark asked.

" The chip I just gave to you is enough proof of what I am saying. I heard it from the mouth of Claire and her now late fiance. As surprising as it is, it could be true. I mean, considering the circumstance , it has to be true. "

" Uhm. Thank you for this information. " Clark said. " I really appreciate your efforts. I mean, we do appreciate your efforts. "

" I am doing all of this to ensure the name of this hotel is not dragged to the mud."

" If you really wanted that," Robert said," you should have buried this information."

" Pardon?" Flora Jones asked, confused.

" Never mind." Robert replied.

" Sorry about that. '' Clark pleaded. " In case you come across any other information you feel could be relevant, don't hesitate to pass it across."

" I will do that. I will be off now. "

Clark stared at her as she left for a while before glaring at her partner.

" What kind of detective are you?" She queried.

No response came. Robert walked round the car and settled in. Clark frustratingly did the same. Robert eyed her and those words came to his mind...

" Detective Robert, I know nothing about you. I don't even know how we ended up being partners."

Yes. She knew nothing about him. If only she did, she would not have made jest of him for saying what he could do with time. Clark hit the ignition and they drove off.