The Poellenberg Inheritance
“A tall man, white haired and distinguished, wearing tinted glasses against the hot glare outside, stood in front of him.
The receptionist had a sharply tuned sense of a guest’s social status; he could scent wealth and titles, even in the most unobtrusive.
The man was well dressed in a lightweight grey suit, a plain silk shirt and a dark tie; he held himself like a soldier, and before he spoke the receptionist reckoned that he was a German. It was something about the cut of the hair, and the set of the shoulders.
‘Good afternoon. I wish to book a suite.’ He spoke in French.
The man behind the desk shook his head.
‘I regret, monsieur, there aren’t any suities available. We are fully booked. I can offer you – one moment, please.’ He opened his register and looked quickly through. ‘I can offer you a double room and the usual private bathroom. But not until the day after tomorrow.’ ‘I wanted the suite on the first floor,’ the tall man said. ‘I am not interested in a room.
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