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The woman blinked and nodded, then walked them to the door of the Presidential Suite and gave it a gentle tap. The door opened and a young man with sizable sideburns tapering to a point at the corners of his mouth and a narrow face stood in the door.“Your two o’clock, sir,” said Clipboard Girl, and the guy gave a curt nod, then walked away. “Remember, you’ve got twenty minutes,” said the girl, and closed the door behind them.

The suite was impressive. The walls were all velvet wallpaper with a flower motif, and the carpets were even more sumptuous than the ones downstairs in the lobby. The room they were in was only one part of the multi-room suite but it was lavish enough, with a salon that looked both opulent but also cozy. “Please take a seat,” the young man with the funky sideburns said. He gesturedto an overstuffed sofa and took a seat himself. “I hope this won’t take long. I have a busy afternoon, and I need to get ready.”

“I only need a few minutes of your time,” Odelia assured the man.

He gave a serious nod and placed an arm across the back of the sofa and balanced a leg on his knee, showcasing a black patent leather brogue and orange Burlington socks.

“A bold choice,” said Gran, indicating the man’s socks.

He glanced down at the vestimentary fashion statement and displayed a slight smile.“If I have to wear conservative clothes the least I can do to offset them is my choice of socks,” he said. “I have them in every available color. And you are?”

“Vesta Muffin,” said Gran. “I’m Odelia’s grandmother.”

The man’s noble brow furrowed. “Grandmother. I didn’t know you American reporters liked to bring your grandmothers along on your interviews. And who are you?” he asked, addressing Scarlett. “Miss Poole’s aunt, I presume?”

“I’m Vesta’s friend,” said Scarlett. “Though Odelia has always considered me an honorary aunt.”

“Auntie Scarlett,” said Gran with a grin. “Now those were the days.”

“Is it true that you invited a girl up here last night?” asked Scarlett, earning herself a reproachful flash of the eyes from Odelia and blithely ignoring it.

The young man shuffled a little uncomfortably in his seat.“And what if I did?”

“She didn’t come out this morning and the hotel staff is worried something might have happened to her,” said Scarlett, whose definition of ‘quiet as a church mouse’ was a very unorthodox one.

The young man grinned.“They can relax. She didn’t leave. In fact she’s still in my bed, right now, fast asleep. Though we did share breakfast together.”

“Oh,” said Scarlett. “So when the cleaner came in…”

“Oh, God,” said Lord Hilbourne, his eyes raking the ceiling in a look of exasperation. “I should have known she was up to something when she insisted on changing the sheets. Well, she was hiding in the closet at that point, obviously. You see, she snuck in here through the service elevator, courtesy of a very open-minded night receptionist—though I’m inclined not to give him that generous tip I promised now that apparently he’s blabbed all over town about my recent conquest.”

“You do know that she’s a lady of pleasure, don’t you?” asked Gran.

“And I can assure you she earned the moniker.” He turned to Odelia. “What is this? Are you all members of the local League Against Moral Turpitude? If I’d known you were going to make such a big fuss about this I wouldn’t have come to Hampton Cove.”

“I can assure you we don’t care one way or the other what you do in the privacy of your own suite,” said Scarlett. “Though we did wonder what happened to the girl.”

“Do you want proof of life?” asked the young man. “I can give you proof of life.” He swiftly got up.

“That won’t be necessary,” Odelia hastened to say.

“Cody!” Lord Hilbourne bellowed. “Come out here a moment, will you? There’s some people here who think I murdered you and flushed your body parts down the toilet.”

He seemed to think the whole thing was extremely entertaining.

The door to what Odelia presumed was the bedroom opened, and a smallish young woman with an abundance of dark curls stuck her head out. She looked sleepy.“What is it?” she asked. Then, when she caught sight of the three guests seated on the sofa, she uttered a startled cry and immediately retracted her head and closed the door.

“See?” said Lord Hilbourne. “I didn’t kill her. In fact she has assured me she’s enjoying my company to such an extent she would like to stick around a little while longer.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Odelia, feeling mortified now. If her editor found out that this was the way she’d conducted this very important interview, there would be hell to pay.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I should have known that I wouldn’t be able to get away with this. People talk, and especially the staff at small hotels like the Star.” He took a seat again and draped his languid form across the sofa. “Now please tell me you have more questions for me—and not merely a burning desire for me to prove I’m not an ax murderer.”