Official Police Business
Coming out of the gloomy Melbourne night into the Hotel Sapphire’s lobby he looks like a B grade movie gangster and as he strides towards the reception desk I know he is trouble. He could be police but most coppers don’t wear expensive shirts with cut away collars. He is tall and broad and the clothes don’t fit. The shirt’s sleeves are too short but his pant cuffs pile on his shoes like folds of batter. You notice these things when you are behind a Hotel reception desk, especially at a hotel like The Sapphire.
He flashes something that might be ID before introducing himself as Detective Sergeant Cremorne. He waits for me to ask the obligatory “How can I help you detective?”
I know my role so I ask.
Thankfully without too much of a flourish he produces a photo from his jacket pocket and places it on the polished wood of the counter.
“I was hoping you could help me. We believe this man is staying in the hotel.”
I look at the photo. His intel is spot on but no real achievement. The man is staying in the hotel. His name is Roland Fowler and he plus assorted hangers on are occupying the penthouse and sub penthouses of The Sapphire. There is not a person in Melbourne who doesn’t know this because right now Fowler is the biggest movie star in the world. In the pre-dawn dark beyond the Hotel Sapphire’s imposing doors, a few damp, desperate fans are loitering hoping to see their idol.
“I am sorry Officer, do you mind if I see your badge again? As you can appreciate I do need to be sure before I give out details about our guests.”
Without hesitation he lays the badge and accompanying ID beside the photo and my fears are realised. The ID and badge are like his clothes, not quite right.
What to do, what to do?
I play along. Sighing, I gesture to the photo.
“Detective Cremorne, we both know who this is. Everyone in the state knows Mr Fowler is staying here. After all, where would he stay but the Sapphire? But I doubt you are here officially so is there something else I can help you with?”
That’s when he suddenly makes a break for the elevators. He has a head start so a lift’s doors are open before I can catch up and crash tackle him. Our momentum carries us forward and wrestling on the floor we both slide into the open lift. The doors close.
Cremorne suddenly knocks on the floor three times in a hard, soft, hard rhythm. Then he stops wrestling, relaxes and roars with laughter. I pretend to do the same but it’s becoming difficult. This is the third time in two days and I have bruises. Apparently despite the luxury and adulation, movie promotional tours can be boring and at the Sapphire we do almost anything for our guests. At least it stops them from trashing the rooms.
