Chapter 54: Padding the Bill

Chapter 54: Padding the Bill

Cherwood Borough, No. 22 Hope Road, Hat Trick Hotel.

The attendant at the front desk was just about to take a sip of water when she saw a lady enter through the door.

The lady was about 1.65 meters tall, wearing a light-colored long dress with flounces. Her slightly curled brown hair fell loosely down, and a pair of tinted-glass spectacles rested on the bridge of her nose, giving her the relaxed air of someone who had just returned from Desi Bay.

In one hand, she carried a dark-brown leather suitcase, walking toward the front desk at an unhurried pace.

A lady with outstanding temperament… That outfit is really quite nice… I wonder what she looks like with the tinted glasses off…

As a woman herself, the front-desk attendant habitually first examined the other party’s clothing and accessories.

Then she heard the lady speak in a voice carrying a hint of lazy charm.

“One night. Single room.”

“Two soli and eight pence.” The attendant first quoted the room rate for the day, then asked, “Do you have identification documents?”

She was not especially enthusiastic about the identity registration process, because the hotel itself had no real way to confirm whether those documents were genuine.

“Yes.” The lady set down the dark-brown suitcase, took a stack of identity documents from the handbag in her hand, and passed them over.

“Margaret Taylor…” the attendant muttered while registering her. Then she found a string of keys. “Room 2012.”

“Thank you.” The fashionable lady opposite accepted the key, picked up the dark-brown suitcase, and walked toward the stairway.

At that moment, an attendant in a red waistcoat approached and bowed.

“Do you need any help?”

His gaze immediately landed on the dark-brown suitcase she carried.

The lady’s lips curved into a smile. She shook her head.

“No. It is very light.”

After saying that, she did not linger. She walked up the stairs floor by floor and entered Room 2012.

After closing the door and setting down the suitcase, she suddenly raised her right hand, pressed it to her chest, and let out a long breath.

“Why do I feel like some perverted murderer…”

She was none other than Fors in disguise. Inside her suitcase was nothing at all except Mr. X’s head wrapped in newspaper!

Those two attendants definitely couldn’t have imagined that inside a fashionable young woman’s suitcase there were no clothes, no skincare products, no cosmetics—only a dead man’s head, cracked almost into fragments and covered in blood… If it were discovered, everyone in the hotel would be frightened to death… This is material for a detective novel!

Fors calmed her nervous mood, then picked up the suitcase again and opened the room door.

She observed the hallway. Seeing that no one was passing through, she hurried out and came to the front of Room 2016. Bending her finger, she knocked on the wooden door.

Her teacher, Dorian Gray Abraham, was staying in this room he had used last time.

After sensing a gaze examining her from the peephole, Fors heard the sound of the handle turning and the lock operating.

Dorian Gray, wearing a black formal suit, with very broad shoulders, warily swept his gaze left and right. Then he stepped aside, signaling for his student to enter.

“No one noticed you, did they?” he asked cautiously after closing the door.

Fors put down the suitcase and removed the tinted glasses covering the lower half of her face.

“No. I used a false identity.”

As a low-level Beyonder with decent experience in Backlund’s underworld, several sets of fake identification documents were indispensable.

Moreover, she had an expert in that area—Xio—to help her.

The only problem was that a fake was still a fake. It could not withstand comparison checks by the police department.

However, Fors had heard that some channels could produce real identification documents. In other words, they were documents filed and registered within the police department, and the photograph could…