Black Daffodil (Trevor Joseph Detective series) (2 page)

Kelly tensed when Damian and Lloyd swaggered out onto the balcony and joined them. They couldn’t have been more unlike. Damian was blond with cruel good looks and the over-muscled physique of a personal trainer. Lloyd was short and squat, with nondescript brown eyes and mousy hair that was already thinning even though, like Jake, Mike and Damian, he was in his early twenties.

Damian raised his voice. ‘You owe me that paper on special effects …’

‘You’ll get it tomorrow, Damian,’ Lloyd promised, trying to appease him.

‘Tonight. I need time to read it before I hand it in …’ Damian slurred. He staggered and grabbed the balcony rail.

‘I want to go through it one last time. I haven’t even printed it off …’

‘Darlings, it’s party, not work, time.’ Jake pulled a couple of vodka tubes and spliffs from Mike’s shirt pocket and pushed a spliff into Damian’s mouth. Jake wasn’t gay but for some peculiar reason Damian found it amusing whenever he adopted a gay persona. Like all Damian’s flatmates, Jake had discovered the easiest way of deflecting an argument, before Damian resorted to using his fists, was distracting him.

Annoyed, but too wary of Damian to show it, Mike retrieved the second spliff before Jake could use it. He pushed it into his mouth but was careful to light Damian’s before his own.

Damian drew the smoke into his lungs. ‘Lucy?’ He shouted to one of the girls inside. ‘We need a tray of tubes out here, now!’

‘Want another of my special presents?’ Mike slobbered over Kelly’s neck.

‘Thanks, but no thanks, Mike. One a night is enough.’

‘Your loss, my gain.’ Offended by her rebuff, he moved away from her.

‘There are friendlier tarts on offer,’ Lloyd moved towards Lucy.

‘Not for people who are working off a favour to me,’ Damian snarled.

‘You’ll get it first thing in the morning, Damian,’ Lloyd pleaded.

‘It had better be good …’

‘It’ll be perfect.’

‘Straight A?’

‘Guaranteed,’ Lloyd said emphatically.

Damian grabbed the well-endowed muscular girl who emerged from the living room with a tray of gleaming blue and red vodka-filled test tubes. He took the tray from her, and handed one to Kelly. ‘Drink it,’ he ordered when Kelly shook her head. ‘This is a party not a bloody funeral.’

Kelly upended it in her mouth and made a face as she swallowed.

‘Who said you could go?’ Damian thrust the girl who had brought the tubes at Lloyd. ‘Lloyd, if you’re not straight A grateful in the morning, you’ll be out on your arse tomorrow afternoon.’

‘I’ll be grateful, Damian.’

Damian grabbed Lucy’s breast through her transparent blouse and tweaked her nipple before sliding his hand under her mini-skirt and pushing it up to her waist. He slapped her bare buttocks. ‘You, Lloyd here, bouncy bouncy. Make it special, but not too special. He’s got a hard morning’s work ahead of him.’

‘For you, Damian darling, anything.’

Jake noted Lucy’s subservience and insincere tone. From the deference accorded Damian by all the working girls who frequented his parties, he’d suspected for months that Damian had more than a casual interest in the local parlours. Darrow senior was rumoured to be a billionaire. He certainly didn’t deny his only son anything, but, apart from his casinos, Eric Darrow was cagey about his business ventures.

Damian had a big mouth but, whether from ignorance, or fear of offending his father, he never spoke about his father’s affairs. The only business Jake had heard Damian discuss was the meteoric film career that awaited him when he graduated from film school and the embryonic agency he had started a few months ago, to ‘help’ budding musicians and actresses at their school. It wasn’t lost on their tutors or fellow students that the only people on Damian’s books were female. And he wasn’t the only one of Damian’s friends who was wary of asking questions. If half the rumours in circulation about the Darrows were true, father and son had the same respect for the law as they had for their enemies; and, according to legend, a few of those had found their way to the bottom of the Bay in concrete boots.

Lloyd pushed Lucy inside. He stopped to watch Cynara and Mira. Stark naked, both were undressing volunteers from the rugby teams.

‘What you doing, misery guts?’ Damian demanded of Kelly.

‘Taking a beer break,’ she said, defensively holding up her can.

‘You’re not here to take a break. You’re here to entertain the guests.’

‘Which she’s just fully and nobly done, my liege.’ Jake gave a full Shakespearean bow.

Kelly wished Jake hadn’t lied. It was the first she’d seen of him at the party and she sensed Damian knew it.

‘Glad you’re satisfied, Jake. I’m not.’ Damian closed his fist over Kelly’s wrist. A ‘bang’ resounded from the living room. Lloyd and Lucy had disappeared and the tail end of the nude conga Cynara had formed had knocked over a bin of empty wine bottles. The conga dissolved in a heap of naked limbs.

Kelly eyed the prospective dancers. The men were laughing but those whose eyes weren’t already glazed by alcohol were hyper, high on testosterone and the chemical cocktails she had seen being handed around. She knew from experience they would take their pleasure viciously – like Damian.

‘Do we know how to party, or do we know how to party?’ Alec Hodges, Damian’s fourth flatmate, danced on to the balcony and threw his arms around Damian’s neck.

‘Damian certainly does,’ Jake steadied Alec when Damian pushed him away.

‘And I’m enjoying it, boy.’ Alec’s eyes rolled alarmingly in their sockets, his entire body was shaking. But not in time to the music that started up again, booming out from the living room.

‘What you on?’ Mike eyed Alec warily.

‘Specials.’ Alec lifted his finger to his lips. ‘Sssh.’ He collapsed in a fit of giggles. ‘Wanno box?’ He lobbed a punch at Damian that connected with his jaw.

‘You stupid bastard!’ Damian raised his fist.

‘Wimp!’ Alec threw another punch but Damian got in first. Alec staggered, lost his balance and would have fallen over the balcony rail if Jake hadn’t grabbed him.

‘Should have let the stupid bugger go,’ Damian growled.

‘You want the coppers to come calling?’ Jake helped himself to a vodka tube.

‘I’d tell them to go to buggery. My father owns the locals.’ Damian pushed Kelly at Alec. ‘Here. Expend his energy to some purpose.’

Alec peered at Kelly through bloodshot eyes before grabbing her skimpy top and yanking it down over her Lycra mini-skirt. ‘Nice boobs.’ He lifted her skirt and exposed her naked buttocks. ‘Nice arse.’ He slapped her hard, raising a welt.

‘Give him a good time, Kelly, and I might give you a go myself later.’ Damian helped himself to another tube of vodka.

Alec closed his hand around the back of Kelly’s neck and squeezed. Kelly winced but didn’t attempt to fight him off. He was a foot taller than her and twice her weight.

‘Alec’s out of it. He could hurt her,’ Jake remonstrated.

‘Know your trouble,’ Damian pushed his face close to Jake’s. ‘You’re bloody soft. Whores are like dogs. They need to be trained to know their place.’

‘I want seconds.’ Jake prised Alec’s arm from Kelly’s neck. To his amazement, she shoved him away and used the lie he’d told Damian earlier. ‘You’ve had your share.’

‘It wasn’t enough.’ Jake propped up Alec who was swaying on his feet. Alec fell and Damian kicked him.

‘Get the silly bugger to bed, Mike.’ Damian clicked his fingers at Cynara. Still naked and very aware of the effect she was having on the men around her, she sauntered, hand on hip, towards him.

Damian wrapped his arm around her and turned to Jake. ‘You can have seconds from Kelly, in exchange for that short you’re working on.’

‘Half the school has seen me filming it,’ Jake protested. Living expenses were cheap for Damian’s lodgers, but they were expected to supplement their payment in kind. Lloyd wrote Damian’s essays and end-of-term thesis. Alec was his ‘heavy’, chauffeur and gofer.

He had only gained admittance into Damian’s inner circle after winning a trophy for producing the best animated short in his first term in film school. And, since moving into Damian’s penthouse six months before, he’d put in hours of graphic and modelling studio work that Damian had taken credit for.

‘Then you come up with something new. Something as good as ‘Long Shots, Short Breaks’.’

The fact that Damian remembered the title of Jake’s award-winning animation said it all. Damian wanted a trophy, and he wanted it soon.

‘We’ll go through some ideas tomorrow.’ Jake grabbed Kelly’s arm.

Damian dismissed them with a wave of his hand. ‘Cynara, it’s time you and the girls put on the floor show.’

Cynara beckoned Mira forward and kissed her full on the lips.

‘Atta girl, go for it,’ Mike shouted.

‘Why don’t you watch the show?’ Kelly said earnestly to Jake.

‘If you’re free, they’ll make you perform.’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time.’

‘We could both do with some peace and quiet.’ He pulled her into the corridor that led to the bedrooms. Noises echoed towards them, low soft moans of pleasure, interspersed with hysterical shrieks and a single, blood curdling scream.

‘That’s Ally, she’s a screamer,’ Kelly said when she saw Jake staring at the row of doors.

‘It sounded as if she was being murdered.’

‘You get used to it. I work in the room next to hers in the parlour.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Let’s go back to the party.’

‘Why? We could both do with a break.’

‘I know you’re trying to be kind, but if I’m caught slacking I’ll lose my job.’

Jake opened his bedroom door, but, even as he dragged Kelly inside, he sensed her reluctance. He had to physically move her aside to close the door. A light burned on the side table casting shadows. His bed was rumpled and an unpleasant, fishy aroma of sex, expensive cologne and sweat filled the room. Damian’s guests never respected his lodgers’ privacy. ‘Who’s going to know if you’re slacking or not?’

‘People listen,’ Kelly said nervously. ‘We just did.’

‘I can moan but I won’t promise to make as much noise as your friend,’ Jake joked.

‘Ally’s not my friend.’ Kelly sat on the bed, kicked off her shoes and pulled off her top.

‘Keep your clothes on. I only brought you in here to chill out. You’re not sixteen, are you?’

She picked up her top and slipped her shoes back on. ‘Yes, I am.’ She left the bed and went to the door.

‘What you doing?’

‘I’m here to work. If you don’t want me, you should be out there enjoying yourself.’

He laid his hand on hers on the door handle. ‘Kelly, it doesn’t have to be this way for you …’

‘Don’t be nice. I can’t stand nice …’

The door slammed back on its hinges with a force that sent Kelly flying across the room. Before Jake had time to turn, hands clamped over his eyes and nose. He tried to shout but when he opened his mouth something coarse, dry and rough was pushed into it, preventing him from breathing. He choked, fought and struggled for breath.

Hands clamped around his waist, lifting him from his feet. His belt was unbuckled; his jeans unzipped and pulled down around his ankles. Terrified of rape, he struggled with every ounce of strength he possessed. Breath hissed from his lungs, loosening the rag in his mouth as he was thrown face down on to the floor. Something hard and bony … a knee? … thrust painfully into the small of his back.

Hands pressed his head face down on to the wooden floor and fumbled at the back of his legs. Kelly’s sobs filled the air. They died abruptly after a harsh slap clipped through the air.

A sharp pain penetrated the back of Jake’s leg. He felt something wet and warm trickling down his calf. A fuzzy feeling stole upwards through his veins, paralysing his senses. He didn’t need to be told what was happening. He knew he’d been injected with something even before the voice hissed in his ear.

‘This is on the house.’

The warmth intensified until it flared into a furnace. His head jerked back, his spine cracked.

‘I would say we’ll contact you before you need more. But this is a one-time special – Mr. Policeman.’

Fire tore through his body, searing, burning, asphyxiating. Hands lifted him up into the air again. A cold breeze cooled his skin and he sensed he’d been carried on to his balcony. He struggled to open his eyes.

Lights wavered far below. He opened his mouth and screamed and didn’t stop screaming until he hurtled downwards into darkness.

Kelly was yanked upright in the corner of the room where she’d huddled, head in hands.

Fists propelled her out into the corridor. Alec was stumbling, zig-zagging from one wall to another. He squinted at her.

‘Kelly? I’m so – o – o tired …’

‘You need to get your head down somewhere quiet, Alec.’

Ally left one of the rooms and pulled her skirt down over the top of her thighs. ‘Give me a hand, Kelly.’

Kelly stared at the door that had closed behind her.

‘Kelly?’ Ally repeated.

Slowly, as though she was sleepwalking, Kelly moved to the other side of Alec. Ally opened the door to Jake’s room and pushed him in. She closed the door without looking inside.

‘Smile, sunshine!’ Ally ordered as she walked away. ‘That’s if you don’t want to end up like your sisters. You don’t need me to tell you it’s a short slide down in this business. And this is a lot easier than being pawed by sweaty old men for hours on end in the parlour.’

Chapter Two

Inspector Trevor Joseph tossed the report Superintendent Bill Mulcahy had given him onto his desk. ‘It’s a well-known ploy, sir. When a dealer wants to expand his market, to increase profits or cover the escalating cost of a habit, he targets potential punters and offers them freebies. If they refuse they’re pinned down and given large enough shots of whatever he’s selling to make them want more. A month later the dealer has recovered the cost of the freebie a hundred times over. It’s rumoured to have started in prisons …’

‘I don’t need a lecture on how it started or why they assaulted Jake Phillips and Alec Hodges and pumped them full of this stuff,’ Bill answered shortly. ‘“Make an addict parties” are a bloody nightmare. Especially in cases like this where scores of people develop amnesia when questioned about the identity of their fellow guests. What I want to know is, was Jake Phillips thrown off that balcony to hide a screw-up, or was it a cold-blooded and deliberate attempt at murder?’

‘He was lucky to have landed on that awning …’

‘If you read on, you’ll see he’s in a coma and not expected to recover.’

Trevor retrieved the file and flicked through it again. ‘It’s attempted murder or GBH if he does recover. Murder or manslaughter if he doesn’t. But devastating as this is for the victim and his family, it’s not enough reason for us to dig into our budget to help out a Welsh force. It’s their problem, not ours.’

‘Ordinarily, I’d agree with you.’ Bill sat in the chair in front of Trevor’s desk, pressed his fingertips together and gazed thoughtfully at his nails.

Trevor knew what the gesture meant. He had seen his superior do it many times, and always before the superintendent was about to ask him to volunteer for something above and beyond the call of duty.

‘There are two reasons why we should make this case our business.’ Bill removed a red file marked
Classified
from a folder and handed it to Trevor. ‘Professor Robbins’s report.’

‘Norman Robbins?’ Trevor asked in surprise. ‘I thought he’d retired.’

‘He did – is. But as he knows more about the chemical composition of drugs and their effect on the brain than anyone else we can call on, we sent him the results of the blood tests on our coma victim, Jake Phillips and Phillips’s flat-mate Alec Hodges, and also the pills we found in Hodges’ pocket.’

‘Was Hodges at the party?’

‘He was in the penthouse along with 106 others when the locals arrived in response to a call from a passer-by who saw Jake Phillips being thrown from the balcony.’

‘Then Hodges is a suspect?’

‘He’s about the only one there who isn’t. He was comatose and incapable of standing upright when the officers arrived within ten minutes of the witness seeing Phillips being thrown. The officers assumed Hodges was drunk. When they tried to wake him, he went crazy. He’s been in a psychiatric ward ever since. Look at Hodges’ symptoms as listed by his psychiatrist.’

Trevor scanned the report compiled by the psychiatrist who had examined Alec Hodges the morning after he had been admitted to a secure ward. ‘Manic behaviour – grandiose delusions – hallucinations – loss of inhibitions – enhanced strength – hyper-activity – loss of all sense of guilt and morality –’ he glanced at Bill. ‘Some form of hallucinatory. Ecstasy or peyote, possibly combined with crack cocaine, heroin or crystal meth?’

Mulcahy leaned back in the chair. ‘Robbins broke down the chemical composition of the pills we found on Hodges. It’s our worst nightmare. A synthetic drug that can be created for pence by any teenage chemistry student who has the formula. And all he’d have to do to assemble the ingredients is take a trip to the local supermarket. Every one of them can be found in proprietary brands of cleaning agents.’

‘You think Alec Hodges made it and gave it to Jake Phillips?’

‘No. Both had been injected in the back of their knees with a fluid in which pills had been dissolved. There were bruises on their backs and residue was found on their skin. Blood tests revealed dangerously high doses in both their bodies. We have to consider the possibility that whoever administered the drug was trying to kill one or both of them.’

‘They could have injected one another.’

‘It’s possible but if they were willing, why the bruises? Why not just take the pills?’

‘Greater and more instant effect,’ Trevor closed the report. ‘If one of them was the manufacturer …’

‘They are film, not science, students.’

‘Alec Hodges has been questioned?’ Trevor checked.

‘He was out of it when he was taken into the psychiatric ward, and he’s still out of it. The doctors came up with the usual, ‘the patient is too ill to be interviewed crap’ for three days. Never mind that this is a potential murder case and a particularly nasty one that could have repercussions for the community. No one was allowed to go near our man until we got a court order the day before yesterday, and even then there were problems with the hospital authorities. It doesn’t help that Daddy Hodges is a judge who knows how to work the system.’

‘Did Alec Hodges say anything useful?’ Trevor asked.

‘No.’

‘Is he permanently damaged?’

‘When he first came round, he was hyper. The doctors sedated him. According to his consultant and the officers who have tried to interview him he hasn’t said one sensible word since. Scans indicate his brain cells are turning to soup.’

‘Is the damage permanent?’

‘Professor Robbins studied Alec Hodges’ medical notes. In his opinion the damage is irreversible. But, until yesterday, Hodges was the only one we knew of who had taken the drug so we had no one to compare him with.’

Trevor dropped the report into his in-tray. ‘What happened yesterday?’

‘Disturbance in a tower block flat on a no-go Welsh council estate a few miles from that penthouse on the Bay, and at the opposite end of the economic spectrum. Three dead and four in the same state and on the same psychiatric ward as Alec Hodges. No sign of force being used on any of them. Evidence points to the dead injecting themselves.’ Bill pulled a sheet of paper from the front of the file marked
Classified
. ‘Pills were found on one of them and blood tests on all seven confirm the same cocktail as Hodges and Phillips, but the pills were of a higher concentration than the ones found in Hodges’ pocket.’

‘Did the victims die from the effect of the drug?’

‘One jumped from an eighth-floor window, shouting he could fly. Another was knifed in the heart. The third – who we think did the knifing – drank two pints of bleach.’

‘Any idea where they acquired the pills?’ Trevor asked.

‘No survivor’s in a fit state to give any useful information. But it has to be more than a coincidence that the drug has travelled from a millionaire’s penthouse down to the nearest council estate in a few days.’

‘What about the other people who were at the party in the penthouse with Phillips and Hodges? Someone must have seen something.’

‘You’d think so. But everyone the locals interviewed appear to have been blind and deaf, or engrossed in an orgy in one of the bedrooms.’

‘They must have friends, acquaintances. Anyone hazard a guess as to where Alec got hold of the junk you found in his pocket?’

‘Alec Hodges and Jake Phillips share the penthouse with two other film students. They and all of Hodges’ and Phillips’s friends and acquaintances have been questioned. Some were at that party, some weren’t. Locals are checking out their stories. But it will take time.’

‘Lucky students,’ Trevor mused. ‘I was under the impression that all most of them could afford these days was a cardboard box.’

‘One of the students, Damian Darrow, owns the penthouse. His father gave it to him. You’ve come across him, Eric Darrow.’

‘The Darrow who owns casinos and nightclubs?’ Trevor raised an eyebrow.

Bill smiled grimly. ‘Didn’t you and Collins investigate him ten years back?’

‘We went undercover in his clubs but all we succeeded in doing was arresting a couple of personal users and one small-time dealer.’

‘Upstairs is concerned about this one. We’ve three dead, one in a coma and four walking lunatics. Can you imagine what will happen if one of the gangs gets hold of this formula and starts mass marketing it? That’s if they haven’t already. Professor Robbins estimates that four dozen pills like the ones we found on Alec Hodges could be produced for under a pound. Trials suggest sniffer dogs would be useless at tracking it down. They’re light, easily transportable. Flood the international market and we’d get …’

‘Murders, mayhem and a generation of thrill-seekers with pea soup for brains.’

‘Exactly,’ Bill concurred.

‘I understand why the locals cried “Help”.’

‘They’re running the usual investigation, but upstairs want our people out there right away. We need to find out who is manufacturing and marketing this stuff and stop it before it does any more damage.’

‘Any ideas?’

‘Too many,’ Bill complained. ‘The Bay is
the
executive and desirable place to live now; but it’s an old dock area, you name it, they’re there. Chinese Triads, Somalis, Yardies, South Americans, Kurds, Asians, Eastern Europeans, and that’s without the Italians. They’ve had businesses in South Wales for a century and more.’

‘Mafia?’

‘Most of their businesses are legit these days but we’re not ruling out anything,’ Bill said tersely. ‘We’re putting out as many ethnic undercover operatives as manpower will allow.’

‘You’ve forgotten someone.’

‘Who?’ Bill looked at Trevor through narrowed eyes.

‘The Welsh locals.’

‘No, we haven’t. That’s where you and Collins come in.’

‘Me? I left the drug squad two years ago. I’m serious crimes.’

‘Three dead
is
serious crimes, Joseph,’ Bill snapped.

‘We’re all entitled to a personal life. Lyn is due to give birth in five weeks. I’ve booked leave …’

‘All the more reason to wrap this case up quickly.’

Trevor had been bullied into giving up leave dozens of times by Bill, but this was different. It wasn’t just his social life but his family life that would suffer. And there was absolutely no way he was going to miss the birth of his baby, no matter how important the case. ‘No. Absolutely not. No! Besides I haven’t a Welsh accent. Not even an implausible one.’

‘Haven’t you heard, boyo, Wales and especially the Bay is the new European international hotspot. They even allow the English in there now. You and Collins are the best undercover operatives I have – or have seen in any force.’

‘Flattery won’t win me over, and your Welsh accent is the phoniest I’ve heard.’

Bill became serious. ‘What kind of a world do you think your baby is going to come into if this crap hits the streets big time? No one will be safe. Not you. Not me. Not the young mother shopping in the supermarket alongside the chemist buying new supplies. And don’t forget the crazed junkie who doesn’t know what he’s doing and doesn’t care as long as he gets his next fix.’

‘You sound like a recruiting poster, Bill.’

‘I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate. How about a compromise? You go undercover for one month? That will give you a week back here before you’ve booked your leave and, if the baby comes a couple of days early, I won’t quibble if you disappear into domesticity.’

‘You know as well as I do that undercover – and babies – can’t be timetabled.’

‘Operatives can be pulled out. Say the word and I’ll do just that,’ Bill promised.

Trevor remained unconvinced. ‘Try Dan.’

Bill took a deep breath. ‘That brings me to the other reason why we should get involved. Jake Phillips wasn’t a film student. He’s one of us.’

‘Undercover drugs?’

Bill shook his head. ‘People trafficking and money laundering. The Darrows run a string of massage parlours and brothels as well as casinos. The locals were looking for proof of Damian Darrow’s involvement after his father signed over half a dozen companies to him a year ago. Jake Phillips had been undercover for almost a year. He did well, made friends with Damian Darrow and moved into his flat after two months.’

‘Did Jake get too close and raise the Darrows’ suspicions?’

‘Not according to the reports he made. But he could have stumbled onto something that night and attracted the attention of the wrong people.’

‘Does Dan Evans know about this case?’ Trevor referred to his colleague and immediate superior.

‘Jake is Dan’s nephew.’

‘The one he persuaded to join the force?’ The look on Bill’s face answered Trevor’s question. Dan Evans had engineered Trevor’s transfer into the serious crimes squad and, although Dan had never admitted it, Trevor suspected it was Dan’s recommendation that had secured his promotion to inspector.

‘Will Dan be working on this?’

Bill shook his head. ‘You know as well as I do, he can’t.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘Upstairs has cleared him to operate on the sidelines and co-ordinate the investigation. He wanted more but, besides the personal aspect, they told him he’s too noticeable and well-known for undercover work.’

‘People do tend to remember someone his size,’ Trevor conceded. Dan was over six feet four and admitted to eighteen stone, although he looked at least four stone heavier to Trevor’s practised eye.

‘The team’s assembling here tomorrow for a briefing. The hope is it’s too far from the Bay to get noticed. Back stories and IDs are being created. Including two for you and Collins. He may be an insubordinate bastard but, as I’ve already said, he’s one of the best undercover coppers on this or any other force. You’ll work with him again?’

‘Do I have a choice?’ Trevor resigned himself to the inevitable.

‘I can’t force anyone on this one. But I’d rather not think about what would happen if we fail to stop this stuff from hitting the streets big time.’

Trevor thought of Jake Phillips and the guilt Dan was undoubtedly feeling. Would he dissuade his own child from joining the Force if the question ever arose?

Bill left his chair. ‘Six hundred hours tomorrow. Incident room. You won’t be going home afterwards. You’ll be heading for the high life. Designer suits, fast cars and five-star hotels.’