“Hadn’t Sutherland said he was on holiday? He handed Martin his key, barely looking up from the Evening News that was spread out on the cheap veneer of the reception counter. A cigarette teetered precariously from the edge of his lip.“Do you remember me?” Martin asked. “Do you know who I am?”The night porter tore himself away from the newspaper, an inch of ash dropped from his cigarette. He glanced up at Martin and then, as if seeing nothing of interest, returned to his paper. “Yeah,” he said, t...urning over a page, “you’re that dead guy, aren’t you?”“Yes,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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