The Wedding Project 💍

'The Sound of Silence' - Detectives' Arrival (@MikeMacColin)

3:40 pm.

They came in a helicopter and arrived on the landing pad behind the main building. Reginald, the concierge, shielded his eyes with one arm from the strong wind as the rotor blades cut noisily through the air, but otherwise waited patiently. He didn't have to wait long. Once the helicopter touched ground, the doors to the side opened and let out two men. They ducked under the whirlwind of the rotor and approached the welcoming committee of Reginald and his head of security, a towering Nigerian named Charles Oubaya. The helicopter already departed again before they had reached the end of the pad and the stairs leading down to the side entrance of the hotel.

"Welcome to Gundersson Island," Reginald welcomed them as the noise of the helicopter had dissipated. "You must be the detectives that they called for."

Both men nodded. The first one was an older fellow, probably in his sixties, with white hair, gray mustache and a bit of a belly. He was carrying a black walking cane, but he had it under his armpit, and it looked more like a status symbol than an actual aid. His hands were wrinkly, but seemed pretty strong, regardless of his age. The other one was considerably younger. His mullet made him look like he had fallen out of time - like the Eighties had never left him. There was no doubt about the strength in his hands or arms - the biceps filled out the short sleeves of his blue shirt like they were ready to burst, and his fingers showed tiny scars and pretty fresh marks as if he had been in a fistfight - or several. Both men looked at Reginald and his coworker through unshielded eyes, showing a keen mind and a constant outlook for the little details.

"Harris McNeill," the older one introduced himself, then made a gesture towards his younger counterpart. "This is my colleague, Gordon Travis."

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Reginald replied as the men shook hands. "But... don't get me wrong, I actually assumed that they would send police officers."

Charles next to him cleared his throat. "This was actually Mr. Gilmour's call," he explained quietly. "He explicitly asked for Mr. McNeill here."

"Mr. St. Claire," Harris raised his voice a bit to gain his attention. "I assure you that Mr. Travis and I are very well versed with cases like this. Both of us had careers in law enforcement, including a decent amount of time in the homicide department. We know how to conduct a murder investigation, and we are well equipped to do so." As confirmation of his words, Gordon raised his left hand holding a steel briefcase.

At the mention of the word "equipped", Reginald's glance went down to the hips of both detectives, and he felt that his palms began to sweat. "Ehm... is it really necessary that you carry your firearms openly like this?" he asked, pointing at the holstered guns both men had strapped to their belts. "It might make some of our guests feel... uneasy."

"Which can be helpful," Gordon responded with a cold tone. Harris gave him a look at the side with a raised eyebrow.

"What my associate is trying to say," Harris tried to calm things down in a diplomatic way, "is that the way people react to us and our investigation might be crucial. Since we are no official part of law enforcement anymore, it might complicate things if our witnesses questioned our authority in that matter. But, as my experience has shown, such questions are hardly raised when the witnesses know we're armed."

This explanation didn't really calm Reginald down, but he sighed and nodded slightly. "Very well. Would you follow me, please..."

The group of men left the landing pad and approached the main building over carefully carved and polished steps made from white stone that were shining in the afternoon sun. The two detectives looked around curiously, noticing the details of the luxury hotel, but keeping any opinion on that matter to themselves. They moved quickly, focused, like true professionals. Harris seemed a bit slower, a bit more cautious, but still wouldn't use his cane. Was he too proud to do so? But he reached the entrance to the hotel without any incident, and prompted by Charles who held the door open, they stepped inside.